All my clothes are too big. You’d think that would be a fantastic problem to have, in fact I’ve been looking forward to this problem for quite some time. As I’ve moved steadily towards my 30 pounds lost benchmark, my clothing has grown increasingly larger, leaving me stuck in my closet trying to figure out what to wear, piling discarded clothing on my bedroom floor.
It’s actually really depressing. Although I’ve lost 30 pounds, I have a diminished closet of clothes that actually fit and so the self-loathing has only increased as I stand looking in the mirror at my body clad in shapeless, loose fabric. I can’t even get slender right. It sucks.
And I know that all this means I get to go shopping, but I am so grossed out by the sight of my own body that the prospect only makes me nervous. I’m making myself go after work today.
I’ve lost more weight, I know, but I’ve been avoiding the scale. I’m not sure why. I’ve also had a couple grey-outs recently, due in part to the heat I’m sure, but I know that my calories are creeping down as well. I’m not tracking as much, but it’s not because I’m not paying attention, it’s because I only eat my safe foods and I know their calories by heart.
And today I’m just mopey. My dear work-friend Michelle is leaving for another healthcare facility, and it’s really bumming me out. She has been such a positive, good influence for me and is leaving me surrounded with old, fat women who are bitter and boring. I’m applying to some exciting positions within the same hospital, and have my fingers crossed for good luck!
