Well, kids, I'm living it. So let's talk.
As of today, I'm down 161.6 lbs from my heaviest weight. I weighed 201.4 lbs this morning. I'm getting to the point where I like the way my body looks in clothes. My shoulders are looking really nice. My ass is bangin. I wear leggings as pants because I want to catch glimpses of my own booty in mirrors and windows. It's that good.
But.
BUT.
Nakey...yowza. My body pretty much looks like a melted ice cream cone. My belly and boobs have deflated like a week-old circus balloon animal. Even my thighs and upper arms have some extra skin. Nobody tells you when you start losing weight...things don't shrink, they deflate. If I bend over and flex my abs, it looks like I have an extra set of jugs from how much belly skin is there. I'm not even joking...my husband and I laughed about it for like an hour the other day. This isn't a slam on myself, it's a straight up fact, and I like to lighten it with humor in an effort to be less ashamed of it. Extra skin is a fact of weight loss life. But it's not pretty.
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| Buffalo Bill would love me right now. Is that joke not funny? |
Am I prepared to show you a photo of my extra skin? No.
Will I ever be prepared to show you a photo of my extra skin? Probably no.
If you ask me nicely in person, will I show you? No, in fact I'll probably cut you.
If you really want to see extra skin that bad, just do a google search. I guarantee one of the thousands of images looks similar to me.
But anyway...
Imagine that you (literally) work your ass off for weeks, months, years, to get healthy and feel beautiful or get stronger or get off meds or whatever your personal motivations are to lose weight. And your body can do some amazing stuff that it couldn't do before. It looks better in clothes than ever before. It's stronger than it's ever been before. But that extra skin is still lurking there and reminding you of your former self, the damage you did to your body, and how worthless and unattractive you used to feel. Nothing will make you feel less sexy and pretty and successful in your efforts than people commenting on it.
I've been asked, repeatedly, by well-meaning friends, if I will ever have skin removal surgery. At this point, I don't really have enough to necessitate a surgical procedure. Plus, the extremely few people who see me nakey either don't care and love me anyways and can laugh about it with me (the huzzband) and/or can go fuck themselves if they don't like what they see (random locker room people, I guess?). Also...I don't have $20,000 extra dollars to spend on an elective surgery, soooooo...I'll reconsider if it ever causes me health problems.
I'm trying to use my saggy belly and newly unfortunate breasts and elephant skin wrinkly legs as motivation and a reminder of how far I've come. I'm trying to see it as evidence of my accomplishments. I'm trying to see it as beautiful, but this is one of the biggest mental hurdles I've had to face/cross/jump over/whatever during this process. It's a challenge and it may never happen.
But.
BUT.
I did a 5k in May. Yes, I walked like 85% of it. But two years ago, there is no friggin way I could have even walked a mile without wanting to die, let alone a 5k.
I hiked an average of 25-40 miles a week with friends this summer. Could or would I ever have done this before? I would have wanted to, but there's no way I could have.
I discovered a love for yoga. I never would have even tried a class before, because I was too embarrassed about my body and lack of flexibility. I hate to sound cliche, but this has put me in tune with my body and what it wants and needs better than anything else I've ever done. It's taught me to breathe through pain (mental and physical) and that I can tough out uncomfortable things, and the end result is worth the discomfort and work. It has taught me to take up the space I need and to be present in my body and mind. Holy crap, am I grateful for yoga.
I PRed an assload of lifts this year. Are my numbers impressive? Hahahaha no. Does it matter? No, because I lifted heavier shit than I ever have before. And I can lift way more now than I could when I was heavier (which is counter intuitive to me, but whatevs).
I can shop for clothes in almost any store I want to. It's hard to get used to this. I'm used to purchasing whatever garments I can find in my size regardless of whether I liked them or whether they were comfortable or flattering, because my options have been so limited in the past.
Ok, so my body looks weird naked. Yes, I still feel a lot of body shame and frankly, I feel way sexier with my clothes on than off. But would I go back to being 363 lbs, not able to do most of the things I want to do, not able to fit in an airplane seat without a seatbelt extender and a prayer, only able to order ugly old ladyish clothes online, get short of breath walking up a flight of stairs, not be able to give my dog the exercise he needs, not be able to hike and see beautiful places, not be able to feel comfortable doing yoga, have to take blood pressure medications, not be brave enough to tell street harassers to fuck off, and be sad?
Would I have spent my entire life being thin, and thus not had to worry about extra skin at all? Perhaps. But I know how strong I am because I've had to work for every pound off my body and on the bar. Every extra rep, every extra second in an uncomfortable yoga asana, every extra jogged step...I know that every single choice I make every single day has the power to bring me closer to or further from my goals. I feel like others who may have had easier lives physically or been appreciated aesthetically or been considered conventionally attractive for their entire lives don't necessarily appreciate what they have and how easy they have it in some ways.
So what's the moral of the story?
THE EXTRA SKIN IS WORTH IT.
