When my close girlfriends ask me how much I weigh and I tell them 88 kilos, they exclaim...no way!!! You don't look that heavy!!! Now these are my 3 most beloved gf's and they have the right to ask. Same with my mom. She asked me how much I weigh these days last Saturday, and I told her around 88, and she said, around 88?! You don't look a kilo more than 80 to me! And Angelos, whose shirts now fit me loosely, though his jeans don't fit me at all!, told me other day that he would have guessed we are the same weight now (bastard is 1.84 and 80 kilos...grgrgrg ;o)
So I discovered that deep inside me I believed them.
A few facts about me say the following: My body is very well proportioned. I have a very well defined waist, and that makes for a lot of tricks. A nicely cut pair of trousers and a fitted shirt make me look thinner. A nicely cut A shaped skirt with the fitted blouse will make me look good. Really, after having lost 43 kilos, there are times when I wear clothes I never thought I'd ever be able to wear again, like a simple pair of jeans with a simple white t-shirt and sneakers, and look "presentable" , that I feel I look like a million euros!
Then, I have a good sense of style. I know how to mix and match. I can play with colours. I can even wear white trousers and white shirts and have the same effect as if I was wearing black. I have a gorgeous dress maker that alters clothes to flatter me more, or makes me clothes that I design for her and make me look thinner.
Plus there is therapy. During the last year and a half, among other things, we have been working a lot with my self image. It was when I realised how slim I used to be and how irrationally fat I was seeing myself to be. As my soul was cleansing from the negative stuff, as I was going closer to a more positive image, as I was getting accustomed with my sexuality all over again, I think I went to the other point. Insead of underestimating my apperance and overestimating my weight, I think I have reached a point of doing the exact opposite. Overestimating my appearance and underestimating my weight.
You know that this has happened when people tell you you look less kilos than you really are and you think to yourself...they may be right.
You know that this has happened when you catch a glimpse of yourself in a window and you are pleasantly surpised with how you look.
You know that this has happened when you think you will fit in a medium in Zara (you guys know Zara clothes? their XL is a normal 14!)
But then there is always a wake up call. And mine has come a bit rough. The weather is warming up pretty quick lately. And you know what that means. All the girls now wear less and less. The accidents' season, my friend Vangelis calls it. It's when the young girls wear short blouses leaving their bellies out, short skirts, sleeveless tops, small flowery dresses, strappy heels. Then the men drivers do not watch the street but the pavements and accidents occur ;o)
On Friday afternoon I saw my mom's doctor whom I haven't seen since Christmas. He is my parents family doctor and knows me for 5 years now or so. So he complimented me on having lost weight since Christmas. I was flying in the sky with my mom's results, and though we still wait for some biopsies, his reassurance that cancer is out of the question had me deliriously happy. Then I went to see a friend of mine who has a jewellry shop, since I went owntown to get Angelos present, and she complimented me on how good I looked with my 3/4 jeans and white shirt.
Then I came home, all pumped up with the good results and the nice compliments, and took off my clothes to put on pj's . Thus the brutal wake up call! Flab. Cellulite. Excess skin. Strech marks. Fat. Huge thighs. Chicken wiongs for arms. Not pretty. Not sexy. Not smartly covered by the right cut of clothes. Thus, suddenly feeling disgusted. Thus calling Deny's and ordering pitta gyros. Waking up the next morning still full. Eating home cooked mexican on saturday night. Waking up on Sunday to a house full of plates and glasses and left overs, and munching on nachos with melted cheddar while I was making coffee. Having a bad lunch. Having choclate icecream in our friends house, then chips, then more icecream, then doritos, then more icecream. Waking up on Monday with a heart burn. Bad stomach all day long. Constipated too!
For all the people I have known the last 4 years, who have seen me going from 130 kilos to 88, I look good. I look slim. But this is not the reality. The reality is that most women when they reach 80 kilos they start going on diet.
The reality is that summer is coming and I will again feel sad for not being able to wear singlets with pride because no matter what I do, besides surgery, my arms will always have so much excess skin it will hurt. I think I have reached a point where I feel comfortable with my body and yet I feel that if I go on loosing more, all that will happen is me ending up with so much more excess skin. You know when you have a whole lot of weight to loose and you never believe you will loose 40 kilos, and then one day you reach this point to feel that even if you loose the remaining weight, you will never be a normal person? That all the gyming and special creams in the world will never make the skin go away.
I ate too much during the weekend because my stress caught up with me. But it is not as simple. Stress makes us eat more when there are other things underneath too. Or else, why my skinny girlfriend cannot even drink water when she goes under lots of stress? What is the different thing that ties up her stomach while it opens up mine?
This is not a murmuring post. It is just my reality. I don't want you to tell me that I am silly and I am so much better with the loose skin that I was with the 43 kilos more. I know this very well. Mind you, I am proud for my accomplishment. I am still astonished with my achievement. I still pat myself in the shoulder and tell me "well done baby". But there is a part of me that is sad. There is a part of me that remembers what it felt like to wear my shirt tied up in the front, leaving my stomach naked, there is this part of me that remembers dancing a flamengo on the table with a skirt tied up in the middle of my thigh and men fainting on my legs. There is a part of me who remembers wearing a small bikini top and a pair of jeans out clubbing. And this part of me is mourning. Cos at 36, and with twice loosing and regaining loads of weight, this is never going to happen again. I am closer to 40 than I am to 30 you know. And my skin is not as elastic as I would have hoped it to be.
Yet, this new affair I am having is too precious to let go. I am having an affair with myself. I really am. And its fresh, and its good, and its fullfiling too. And I am determined to keep my new love happy. And she will be happy really when she gets on the friggin scales and see the 69. What if she got on the scales today to see a dreadful 91.5 again. While it was last week when she saw the sweet 87.5. She and I know the following:
At least 2.5 out of these 4 kilos are still in her bowels.
She woke up earlier this morning and used the treadmill for 40 minutes after ages!
She ate well yesterday and she will eat well today and tomorrow and the day after tomorrow too!
She has another marathon in therapy this weekend. This means little time to think about food, therefore this will be a safe weekend.
She bets her ass that by next Tuesday, her weight will be back at 87.5. What if she is seriously considering laxatives? A girl has to do what a girl has to do!!!
And I am taking her shopping for anti-cellulite creams today!!!