Because I am wife of the year, I bought tickets for hubby to a Van Halen concert last weekend. I was pleasantly surprised by how much room I had in my seat at the concert venue. Not only were the arm rests not digging into my hips, there was room enough to sit a bag next to me. A bag containing a $55 Van Halen concert t-shirt because, once again… wife of the year.
The seats on either side of us were empty which in my pre-Tiny Tummy days would have been a huge relief. I haven’t been in a concert arena, theater, ball park, stadium or airplane in years that I wasn’t praying to the gods that the ONE empty seat in whatever venue was the one next to me so that I didn’t have to worry about my fat thighs spilling over onto a complete stranger.
About halfway through the opening act, however, a larger woman and her husband came and sat down next to us – her next to me, her husband on the aisle. I immediately started to worry about how the both of us were going to fit next to each other without tumbling on to each other.
“At least we’re in this together,” I thought to myself.
I said something later to Mr. Adams about it and how I was surprised that, in actuality, we never even touched.
“You realize that woman was like 400 pounds and twice your size, right?” he asked me.
Size has always been such a bizarre concept to me. Truth is, I have ever been able to differentiate between a woman my size and a woman not my size – I just always assumed I was bigger. Except now I’m not. And sometimes I feel thinner now because I can definitely do things with my body – like climb a flight of stairs without dying – that I couldn’t do before. But sometimes I feel exactly the same because there are rolls and fat and it’s all not perfect and, hence, I must be a fatty-fat-fatty, right?
The day after the concert I went shopping. I don’t have a single skirt or pair of dress pants that fit any longer and I am attending a Board meeting on Thursday so I really need some fancy office-type duds. Prior to weight loss surgery I was a size 26. When I got into a size 22 comfortably in May I was really pleased. I decided last week that the one pair of size 20 jeans I own are getting way too baggy and it was time to try and tug on the one pair of size 18s I own – only I didn’t have to tug much at all. They fit just fine. Then, on Saturday, I bought a pair of size 16 pants. They are a little tight in the waist because it hasn’t dropped as quickly as the rest of me, but they fit well everywhere else.
Size 16, my precious snowflakes.
Size 16 as in... one more size down and I have completely sized out of the plus size shops. Size 16 as in... I can actually start shopping just about any damn where I want to. Size 16 as in... almost the American average of size 12 – 14.
Holy hell this all has me so confused. I haven’t lost a pound in nearly two months, but I’ve dropped from a size 22 to a size 16/18? This body remains such a mystery to me.