I should have known
This past weekend, I did something that was long overdue. I went shopping for clothes. By myself. At a new mall. I spent a ton of time in one of the anchor stores and actually bought 2 pair of pants. I was thrilled. See, in February, I was a size 12 going on 14. Then I started Weight Watchers. I have since dropped 25 pounds and am a size 4. The best part about the shopping trip is that I found a store that carries pants that fit me. Narrow waist and breeding hips. I bought 2 pairs and returned the first 2. I was soooooo thrilled.
Now, I just need to work on keeping it off. I refuse to go back to being frumpy. On the other hand, I don't want to be the mom who tries too hard. I think I am balancing it, but as the extent of Caleb's fashion sense is that he would prefer to wear sweats 365 days a year, he doesn't really say much. (Yes, he would like to wear them when it is 95 degrees out. Yep, it drives me batty to see him all flushed insisting that he is cold. I want to know who out there thought 3 year olds are easier than 2 year olds. Filthy rotten liar.)
The oddest part about it all is how slowly my self-image changes. No matter how heavy I was, I always pictured myself as a size 8. Now, I look in the mirror and all I see is the cellulite under the clothes. I like eating too much to ever end up with an eating disorder, but I have been thinking a lot about what it means that I still picture myself heavier than I really am. Is this a product of the media and our fascination with girl/women with long lean legs and not a spec of body fat? Or is a normal psychological phenomenon and in a few months my self-image and my actual body will be in closer alignment?