A New Normal

This piece is dedicated to the always-lovely Rebecca, who so honestly shared with her readers about her own pants-dilemma.

In the dressing room today, wearing pants that fit

If you’ve ever watched the popular TLC show “What Not to Wear”, I’m sure you’ve heard Clinton and Stacy advise their fashion-challenged objects of prey to dress the bodies they have -- not the bodies they once had, neither yet the bodies they wish they had, but the ones they have now.

This is, more often than not, most unwelcome news to the show’s participants. Many of them get looks on their faces that would make you think that someone just shot the family dog.

I’ve been in a similar state of denial about this and for quite the opposite reason that most of the show’s victims assert so vociferously. One woman will swear up and down that she will one day fit into the jeans she wore in high school, and another adamantly claim that those three-sizes-too-small pants are just the incentive she needs to lose the extra baby weight. My protest has been, I will gain some weight back!

About three weeks off the modified elimination diet and I tell you –- I gained about four pounds back at a week and a half, which I promptly lost again by the end of the following week (meaning I am back at my 30-lb weight loss number, but holding steady). I won’t be adding anything else back in to my diet, so I have to assume that this is my new normal.

Consequently, I am yet another fashion victim (and I sincerely hope there is no secret footage of me that is on its way to TLC). As I stood in front of my closet this morning, I selected a pair of casual olive-colored slacks (freshly washed and dried), a favorite of mine. Once upon a time, these pants fit perfectly; they gently hugged my hips without pinching and I was able to fill out the derriere quite beautifully, if I don’t say so myself. Today it was hard to tell if I had one at all.

I learned early on this morning that I risked finding these pants in a puddle around my ankles every time I stood up from my desk. Just for kicks and giggles, I tried a little experiment in the restroom stall: I could pull them up and down quite easily while fully buttoned and zipped. This is sick! There is room for at least one more ample bottom in there and when I turned to the side, not only did I think What is Nicole Ritchie doing in my apartment?, I could see that my once-favorite pair of pants looked like the “fat pants” people wear in the before pictures of ads for diet shakes and fat-burning pills.

I know, I know. Most women would chide me in tones dripping with sarcasm, Gee what an awful problem to have!

But this means I had to go shopping, which I truly loathe. Yes, it is true. I am a woman who does not enjoy shopping. I enjoy having new clothes, I just don’t like the process of acquiring them.

So I braved the mall after work today. I picked up two pairs of rather cute capris in a size smaller than what I was wearing at the time (I am deliberately withholding that number). They fit perfectly, they did not pinch or create the dreaded illusion of “back fat”. When I turned around in the dressing room, I could tell that I had a rear-end in there. How glorious! And better yet, they weren’t falling off. I would not risk accidentally mooning anyone in these pants.

And while I was there, why not pick up a couple of the rather inexpensive brightly-colored tank tops and that cute t-shirt on clearance? But of course!

All joking aside, I am learning something valuable even in this. This is my new normal. I am healthy and well again; I have energy that I haven’t known since I was a child. I may need to acquire a new wardrobe over time, but the way I look at it, it is not so much about the weight loss or the size of the pants I purchased today. My body has shed its illness and its junk; it has rid itself of disease and taken on good health.

And no matter what the number on the tag says, that is what I celebrate.