So, I weighed myself. I was supposed to do it on March 1st, but a day early is fine. The number did not surprise me, as I had accidentally seen the number last week at the specialist. I was down -.4. It’s so depressing, that it made me laugh. It’s hilarious actually.
A work colleague whom I saw on Friday and then again on Monday asked if I had dropped a lot of weight over the weekend. So funny how that doesn’t show up on the scale. It doesn’t show that my pants are literally falling off of me.
Have I ever told you how scared I get about my clothes not fitting? When I’ve gained weight and they are too tight, I just get mad. When I’ve lost weight, and they are too loose, I get incredibly anxious and scared. Even when I was in diet mentality, after losing 60 pounds, I remember sobbing in the therapist’s office because none of my clothes fit. Just terrifying.
No Change in weight really.
But, I’m not on this journey to lose weight. I’m on this journey to understand me, to understand my relationships with food & this physical body of mine. Losing weight might be a side effect, but it might not.
This month no change in weight, but change in how my clothes fit, change in the healthy patterns I’m continuing, living my life without dieting, living free, and not perfectly. Perfection is not sustainable.
Change in knowing what my Wounded Self needs. Change in acknowledging feeling parts that I’ve exiled for so long.