Snapshot

We laid there, on the couch — him on top of me, head resting on my chest.  I ran my fingers through his hair, then suddenly I just had to ask him a question.

“Can I ask you a rather offbeat question?”

“Sure.  Have at it,” B offered.

“When we’re laying here like this, with your head on my chest, what does this feel like to you?”

“You mean, you want me to put a feeling to it?” he asked.

“Well, yeah.  Like — how do I phrase this? — how does this make you feel?  Because for me, it makes me feel as though no matter what else is going on in my world right now, with me in your arms, I feel protected.  Like there’s this big, strong guy who won’t let anything hurt me,” I offered.

“I see.  Well, for me, it’s actually kind of the complete opposite.  This makes me feel like I don’t have to be this big, strong guy.  Like I can let my guard down and just relax.  Because you’re here with me.”

I practically melted. 

“Awww, I like that.  But I love you even more.”

This engagement/marriage business?  It’s all smooth sailing from here, folks.

For me, and only me.

Saturday I had a date with myself.  I needed to go shopping desperately because ever since I changed my eating habits, I’ve lost a lot of weight.  I only had one pair of pants I could wear to work, and they had gotten a little too loose.  (The downside of losing a lot of weight?  Let me rephrase that…The only downside to losing a lot of weight?  It costs a lot to keep yourself clothed properly!)  When I weighed myself Saturday morning, I noticed I was down 36 pounds since New Year’s Day.  It’s all very exciting, but I’m used to losing weight by now, so I just smiled to myself and hopped in the shower.  It wasn’t until later on, in the dressing room of a store, that it really hit me.

I grabbed a few things to try on — a denim skirt, some dress pants, and a few tops.  I grabbed things in my current size and one size smaller, just in case.  MIraculously, all the tops I tried on were too big, and I had to grab a smaller size.  This has not happened — not in years.  I just kind of shrugged my shoulders and kept moving through the huge pile of clothes.  I put on the denim skirt in my current size and it slid down my hips, noticeably too big for me.  I unbuttoned the one in a size smaller, turned away from the mirror, and closed my eyes.  When I pulled it up from my ankles, above my knees, to my waist, and buttoned it, I nearly burst into tears.  It fit perfectly.   When I turned around to look in the mirror at the image staring back at me, I could hardly believe it.  I was standing in a dressing room, wearing the same size I wore as a freshman and sophomore in high school.  From there, it was all a blur.  I tried on everything I had brought in with me, making piles of “way too big” and “perfect” on the bench.  After I finished trying all of those on, I grabbed bikinis.  BIKINIS!  Who am I?! 

All in all, I bought four new pairs of pants for work.  I went the sensible route — I bought only things I needed right now, since the money situation is kinda tight, and pants for work are a priority.  But it felt SO! Damn! Amazing! to put on skirts and shorts and dresses that are TWO SIZES SMALLER than I was on New Year’s Day!!!!!!!!!!!  I felt so proud of myself, like I had climbed this huge mountain all by myself, had done it the right way, and I was reaching the summit.  Because you see, I’m not finished yet.

I’ve never been “small.”  I will never be a size 2 or a 4.  That is just not possible.  When I was in 7th grade, I wore a size 7/8, and my dad called me “skinny minny.”  He would say “you have chicken legs, but I love you.”  By the time I got to high school, I was in a 9/10, but I was active and I felt pretty.  I was a cheerleader and I had no extra “jiggle.”  It was just the way my body was built — muscular, strong, with a curvy body shape and hips.  Hips for days.  But it never bothered me.  Junior year, I inched my way into 11/12s and I was getting worried.  But I told myself “you’re growing up and you’re turning into a woman.”  Then, in college, I started to be more proactive about it.  Freshman year I worked out like a maniac and lived off of salads.  I didn’t weigh myself, but looking back, I’d say I probably dropped about 15 pounds or so.  My 11/12s were too big on me, but I just wore a belt and sucked it up.  I was too broke back then to buy new clothes (Ed. note:  I was too busy putting myself through school and paying for everything all by myself).  But then, after I joined a sorority and started going out more often and “socializing” (Ed. Note: ahem, drinking!) I gained weight pretty quickly.  I avoided scales at all costs, but it didn’t take a genius to know that I’d crossed the threshold from “curvy” to “plus-size”.  I was officially into a 13/14 and that was not okay. 

After graduation, I joined a gym and worked out like a fiend.  Everyone said that I looked like I had lost a lot of weight, but I refused to weigh myself.  Facing the number on the scale seemed like an insurmountable task that I couldn’t bear to attempt.  I took spin classes, dance classes, lifted weights, and did millions of sit-ups.  But nothing that I did was able to get me into smaller pants.  Nothing.  It was daunting.  Now, looking back, I realize I just wasn’t eating right to go along with the working out.  Back then, I figured this was just my body type, that I was just a plus-sized girl and there was nothing I could do about it.  I stopped being comfortable having sex with the lights on.  I didn’t want B to see me naked in full view.  I’m sure it was frustrating for him, but he was wonderful about it, and he would just say “baby, you’re so beautiful and I love you the way you are…all of you.”  I would smile, but really, I knew deep down I needed to lose some weight.  For me, and only me.

What did it for me?  I went on the South Beach Diet.  It totally kicked my ass in the first two weeks, but it was worth it.  My blood chemistry is better, my blood pressure is phenomenal, and well, there’s the whole issue of how I’ve lost 36 pounds, two sizes, and 5 inches from my waist.  My face and arms are much thinner, and actually, my hair is stronger.  I guess all the nutrients I’ve substituted for the empty calories in my diet have paid off!  I feel stronger, and I’m able to do more.  I’m finally back into a size 10, and not to toot my own horn too much, but I look great!  The South Beach Diet will always be a part of my life, because it has taught me the proper way to eat.  I eat whole grain bread instead of white; brown rice instead of white; fruit instead of crackers/cookies; splenda instead of sugar.  It’s really simple and easy to follow.  And, I never feel hungry.

Looking back on New Year’s Day, when I finally had the nerve to hop on a scale, I think I knew it was time.  It was almost as if someone was in my head telling me to stop being scared and start doing something about it.  I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to do it at first.  I thought I’d lose 15 pounds at the most.  But because of a lot of hard work, a lot of self-determination, and with the support of B, I’ve lost 36 pounds and I still have a little ways to go.

My ultimate goal is to lose another 12.  At that point, I’ll be down 48 pounds and possibly 3 sizes.  I did this for myself, but it’s pretty great that B said to me last night “You know, ever since you started losing all this weight, I really can’t take my eyes off of you!”

And, we had sex last night…with all the lights in the house on.

Discovered

I had a weekend completely to myself.  On Friday afternoon, B called to say he would be going out of town for the weekend to visit some family.  Bummed out, I wondered “What am I going to do with all this time alone?”  I started thinking of ways to entertain myself, and stressing out about being in our house alone.  We live in a neighborhood that’s beautiful, but to be honest, quite freaky at night.  There aren’t a lot of street lights, and it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop in your neighbor’s house.  I tend to close all the blinds and turn on all the lights when I’m there alone, and well, it’s a little more than unsettling.

But I found that when left to my own devices for 2 nights and 2 days, I’m actually quite happy.  Oh, of course I missed B.  That’s a given.  But it was good to stay quiet, not talking very much, and spend time with my dogs and cats in peace and quiet.  I watched movies.  I sang to the radio.  I cleaned the house.  I did all the laundry I could find then put it all away (which, let’s be honest, is about as rare as me working out, haha).  I cooked meals for myself, with only my needs in mind.  I curled up on the couch with my blanket and a book and read until it was finished.  I snuggled and played with my puppy.  I took B’s dog for a long walk.  I slept in and went to bed late.  I layed in the middle of the bed.  I checked the mail and sorted all of the paperwork that was waiting to be filed.  I gave myself a pedicure.  I curled my hair and put on makeup for no real reason.  I gave myself a facial and shaved my legs.  I did all this for me.  And you know what?

It felt fantastic.

Don’t get me wrong, I was definitely glad to have B come home…and those shaved legs were useful for the fun we had on Sunday evening. And though it might seem small to others, to me, it was a huge success.  Normally I’m so stressed out worrying about things that could happen to me when I’m alone (break-in, rape, torture, you know) that I forget to enjoy the quiet.  (Anxiety much?)  But this time, I took time to stop and smell the roses.  Metaphorically speaking.

I kinda can’t wait until this happens again!

6:30 a.m.

It is early morning, the sky is dark and heavy.  I drag myself out of bed and to the front door to let my pup outside.  I watch her scamper through the leaves, sniffing to find the perfect spot to relieve herself.  I turn to see B standing behind me, smiling.  Just as I open the door to let the pup back in, he wraps his arms around me and kisses my ear, whispers “I love you” and heads off to work.

Begrudgingly, I head for the bathroom where my morning ritual commences.  I’ve been feeling particularly hard on myself these past few days.  Unsure.  Not confident.  Angry for no reason. 

In my mirror I see…dark circles under lidded green eyes.  B says my eyes sparkle when the light hits them just right.  …remnants of a days worth of mascara, clinging to my too-short lashes.  Too tired to wash off my make up last night.  …crazy bed head, flyaways poking out from every direction.  …perfectly straight teeth, thanks to 18 months of braces.  …a new pimple, sprouting up on my chin.  I am a teenager all over again.

Undressing, I glance at the newcomer to my bathroom.  A scale.  What used to be something I avoided with a passion, I have lately embraced.  Naked, I step onto the scale, shut my eyes and take a deep breath.  Looking down at the numbers, I smile.  The weight is coming off.

Stepping into the shower, I embrace the steam and the chance to clear my mind.  In my head, I go over the day before.  Work.  Doctor.  Good news from my sister.  Driving home.  The phone calls and text messages I avoided to have a minute to myself.  Feeling bad, I make a mental note to get back to everyone this evening. 

Staring down at my body, I know I have a lot to learn.  How to accept myself.  How to love myself.  How to take better care of myself.  But I’m proud — because I’ve started.  It took me all the way to 24 years old to finally get it.  I’m not perfect.  I will never be a size 2.  My hair will always be this weird shade — not blonde, but not quite brown.  My teeth will never be celebrity-white.  My nose will never resemble the perfect complement of slope and angle.  But this is me. 

There is only one me, and I have to make the most of her.

I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt.  I am a friend, a shoulder to cry on, a friendly ear.  I am a girlfriend, a best friend, a hero.  I am a college graduate, an honors graduate, a first generation graduate.  I am a dreamer, a believer, a wisher. 

My life is a rollercoaster, a heartbreak, a whirlwind.  My life is a success, a surprise, an achievement. 

My life is mine.  There is only one life I have to live.  And I will make the most out of it.