Ahh, I remembered!
Last night, I switched clothes out of my closet. No, not winter for spring but rather the fat for the less fat. I dumped some of my old clothes that I have shrunk out of and replaced them with old friends that have been sequestered in the back of my closet for, um, many years.
Like many women, I have multiple wardrobes. I think most women have three wardrobes: skinny, medium and feelin’ Rubenesque.
Well, I think I have five wardrobes...
1. Really skinny – that was when I was in grad school (round one) and weighed in the 120s. And was in shape. Jogging five miles up and down hills was not a problem for me. So that’s 120-something pounds of muscle. I had pants that were sizes 2, 4 and 6. Nothing larger. I was hot. That was a long time ago. I don’t think I have a shot in hell of ever fitting into those clothes again.Right now, I’m somewhere between Feelin’ Rubenesque and Average. The Tubby pants just got traded out of my wardrobe last night because they look ridiculous on me. I can’t wear them. Not only do I need a belt to keep them from completely sliding off of me, but the legs have so much extra material that they looked like jodhpurs. Out they went (okay, not thrown out, but put away). No point in having them there for me to fit back into.
2. The new skinny (a.k.a. “thin”) – that’s what I was when I was a few years older and carried a few extra pounds above “really skinny” but was still thin. Not in as good shape as when I was younger, but basically fit. I think I wore mostly 6s then. I have reverted back to this size several times in my life (although, admittedly, not recently), so I have hopes that I can get back to the new skinny, even at 40. Not holding my breath, but it’s my goal.
3. Average – this wardrobe is harder to define in terms of when I was this size, but it’s basically the transition from thin to putting on the pounds. I think size 8 describes this period. I don’t have too too many size 8 pants, so that just shows you that I blew through “average” on my way to “feelin’ Rubenesque” pretty quickly.
4. Feelin’ Rubenesque – size 10. A true size 10 (as in, walk into any store and know that a size 10 will fit), as opposed to all of those cuts and brands which are vanity-sized. And also that size 10 dresses will fit as well. My top half and my bottom are off by at least one size, so when I gain weight, my upper body outpaces my lower body. I put the weight on across my back, chest and my stomach. Not my butt or thighs. Yes, I am one of those women who looks like a wooden block walking on toothpicks. Solid as a linebacker up top but nice legs. It means that when I gain weight, I can fit into pants longer than I can shirts. It also means I look quite top-heavy and kinda lumpy.
5. Tubby – when I have to buy the “modern” or “low rise” cut pants to ensure that the waist is large enough to fit. Because I have no ass and my legs are thin, this kind of cut fits me well. I can’t just go up a size to get the larger waist because then the butt will just balloon around me. At this size, I am also wearing XL shirts and size 12 or 14 jackets. And I truly look like a linebacker, carrying weight down my back and arms and across my chest. This is a very unhappy size. This is the wardrobe I escaped on this diet. I’ve only been here once before in my life, and I will not be back here again.
I also dug up some old jackets, suits, dresses and pants and tried them on. I could easily get into many of them; others, not so easily. And some fit poorly. Still need to take off a few inches to have them fit well. But the good news is that I can fit into some clothes that haven’t been out of the back closet in years. I brought them up to my closet and will start incorporating them into my daily wear. I can put on my interview suits again, but they are a bit snug across the chest (jackets don’t button nicely).
So, that’s real, tangible progress. The fat pants are out. So are the fat jackets. Why feel and look frumpy when I have all sorts of long-neglected clothes waiting in the wings? Yes, I still need to lose more weight, but I’m getting there. Aside from the number on the scale, the wardrobe switcheroo is a tangible benchmark which demonstrates how much I’ve shrunk in girth.