102 pounds. It's been almost a week since I've discovered that number, and it still feels strange on my tongue. That is a hell of a lot of weight off my shoulders--literally.
On one hand, it feels good to say it. On another, it's shameful--in that I used to weigh well over 300 pounds, in that it's only a portion of what still needs to come off, in that I used to be someone so different from who I am now.
It's a huge accomplishment, no doubt, and I'm thrilled to pieces that I've gotten here. But it's still hard for me to acknowledge it and fully take pride in what I've worked so hard for.
I've been struggling this week see what so many other people see when they look at me. It's so strange knowing that I see myself in such a very different way; when I look in the mirror, I see the Tracy from June 2007. I see the rolls and the lumps and bumps that still remain rather than the transformation from what was. When people see me and say, "you're so skinny!" I almost have to laugh as I think, "Are you kidding me?"
At some point, I will have to acknowledge the fact that physically I am not who I used to be. No longer am I the girl who can't cross her legs. No longer am I the girl who has to cringe at the idea of someone sitting next to me in a theater or on the train, knowing that because of my size, we'd both be uncomfortable. No longer do I need to look automatically to the biggest size in the store (unless I'm looking in a non-plus-size store, which I'm slowly starting to do--haven't bought anything yet, but I'll keep you posted on how it goes...) My brain and my eyes can't keep up with my body, and neither has realized that my body is no longer what it used to be.
Even my singing hasn't come to terms with my body as it is now. I'm running into problems with my singing posture because of the weight that is no longer there. My frame and muscles, which have been conditioned to carry a lot more weight than they are now, don't realize all that weight is gone. My posture is drooping and prevents my diaphragm from filling with enough air, which causes all kinds of new issues with my singing. The solid foundation to the tone that the weight used to give me is leaving me with every pound I lose. My voice teacher recommended I study Alexander Technique or Feldenkreis, both of which I'm looking into even though I don't actually understand what either of them does or how they work. We'll see what happens.
My entire body is changing, and slightly freaking out about it.
My head is torn in two right now, one half fully realizing my new, good habits and the other, not able to see or accept where these good habits have brought me.
It's a weird place to be in.
Fully aware of my accomplishments, but wondering if I've ever be able to embrace them the way I want to.
Wondering if my eyes will ever agree with what I know in my soul--that my body is a beautiful thing on the inside and out.
How I wish my eyes would see already.
You know the old adage, "Be careful what you wish for, 'cause it might come true?" It makes a lot of sense, considering that the farther I go on this journey and the more weight I lose, the more knots I end up needing to untangle. I guess that's par for the course, and hopefully untangling these knots now means I'll never have to untangle them ever again. Maybe it's untangling the knots that leads us on the road to full and complete recovery from any additiction or bad habit. Or maybe it helps us build character and strengthen our hands and minds. Or maybe it just makes for a lot of good conversations between ourselves and God.
All I know is that I continue to be amazed, in both good and bad ways, by the amount of tzurris that comes with getting exactly what you've always dreamed of.