So here's the thing about a really heavy person losing weight -- not a chubby person who could stand to lose a few pounds -- a really heavy person: there are many many many little changes that take place that no one in the world would notice. A roll becomes a crease which becomes smooth -- the size -- from outside -- through clothes -- doesn't change a bit, but the body does. It is wonderful, but privately so.
I experience these private victories and revel in them -- but it does make me sad that my progress isn't evident from the outside. I remind myself constantly that I am doing this for myself and that the opinions of others shouldn't matter.
But, dammit, I want to look good to to others.
That is vain and stupid and shallow and I need to get over it. I don't think it is going to happen. And it shouldn't matter.
Another observation: when I went home for Christmas -- 50 pounds lighter but still, admittedly, significantly overweight -- no one seemed to notice. Friends I haven't seen in months notice, but family and friends from home did not. I think -- and this is pure speculation -- that that may be because my local friends have never known me as anything other than very very fat -- so the change from very very fat to very fat was noticeable. People who have known me all my life -- who knew me in my teens and 20's when I was not even kinda fat, much less very or very very fat just didn't notice what -- in the grand scheme of things -- was a relatively small outward change.
It was a reminder that -- while I've been patting myself on the back and feeling like I'm all fierce -- I'm still a fat middle-aged woman.
But a less fat middle-aged woman than I was 9 months ago.
I'm off to the gym.
It's what I do.
I go to the gym and I eat super-low carb.
I behave like people who look a helluva a lot better than me. I look like people who behave a helluva lot worse than me. It's not fair, but it is what it is. I'll keep doing these things that are good for me because I feel better.
Today, though, I feel more lumpy than fierce.
But maybe tomorrow...