Size Matters

Or does it?…..

matters-of-size

What a joy it was to re-launch the blog last week. I really had forgotten how much I enjoy pecking away at the computer and posting my mental ramblings for all to read!

I funny thought crossed my mind this week regarding my memory…

When it comes to my ability to remember things…eh…I give myself a C. I suffer from can’t remember what I had for breakfast and can’t remember why I walked in the kitchen syndrome. My mental notes should be renamed “you’re going to forget it in 5 minutes so write it down now” notes.

I’m the queen of forgetting I have clothes in the dryer (Ugh…I hate washing the same load twice because I forget!) and the master at heating something up in the microwave only to find it two days later because I open the door to heat something else up.

However…aside from my lackluster ability to recall most things in my daily life with perfect recollection, there are 2 things that I have no issue forgetting…

1)    I have the psycho ability to recall numbers and numerical data like Rain Man…my first phone number was 845-1424…the Wifi password to the first Wifi card I ever had (circa 2006) was 833846904…My high school locker combination was 17-28-13.  Want to know my address as a 3rd grader? I can tell you that too. Want to know my great grandmother’s phone number? I’ve also got that stored in my noggin. When it comes to numbers, I’m weird.

2)    If I think about a time in my life or an age I was, I can tell you EXACTLY what size clothing I was wearing.  No…I’m not exaggerating. And not only do I remember what size I was wearing, I can tell you outfits I had during those years that were those sizes.

Yes, of course I can recall the details of many events in my life or periods of time. I recall the emotions and the experience, but the very first thought I have when I need to recall a certain time period is my size. It’s like a weird robotic, involuntary reflex….

“So Hannah…tell me something about…”

  • 6th Grade…Shirt size was Large…Went to space camp on a class trip.
  • 8th Grade…Shirt size was Large…Did a dance to ‘Sugarpie Honey Bunch’ in front of my homeroom with 3 other friends. (Ummm….)
  • The day I graduated from high school…Size 14…What a fun party that was.
  • Beginning of sophomore year of college…Size 12…oh that school kickoff party!
  • End of sophomore year of college…Size 18…My gallbladder hurt and I was so lost.
  • Junior year of college…Size 20…What a sad person I had started to become.
  • January 2011…Size 20, XXL…Start to this blog thing.
  • Thanksgiving 2011…Size 18…Started to feel different, but why did I still look so swollen?!
  • March 2012…Size 12…Glad I can now comfortably shop without having to worry about whether or not the store carries plus sizes.
  • The day I got engaged…Size 10…Most incredible day of my life thus far.
  • April 2013…Size 12, Large…Failure. Have to buy a larger size pants because my 10’s don’t fit anymore.
  • November 2013…Size 8…Whoa. Smallest I’ve been in my adult life.

Why?! What the hell is that thought process about?!

I am saddened that I have had such a warped way of reviewing and reflecting on my life. Why are the moments in my life so defined by the number on the label in my freaking pants?

Why is the first thing that comes to mind when I think about the day I graduated from HS the size of the black ruffled dress I was wearing and not what a great accomplishment it was to walk across that stage with honors and the 6th highest GPA in my class?

I don’t want my sizes (past and present) to define me. Size shouldn’t be important. My life and the way I’m living it should be what matters. Thus we have uncovered my current struggle…

I’d love to say that size no longer matters…but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t. Especially when I started to creep back up the sizing scale earlier this year. I’m still struggling with feeling like I look exactly the same in an 8 as I did in 16.

I have this weird meltdown when I buy things that fit because in my warped mind, fit means that they’re tight and tight means that I’m fat.  My brain thinks that loose equals skinny despite the fact that there’s twice as much material. Away from the mirror, I logically know that clothing that fits means that it sits close to my body (as it should!) versus rocking the saggy, diaper booty that I seem to sport when I wear pants a size or two too large, and that if the size is smaller, I’m obviously smaller. But, thus my backwards brain thinks otherwise.

Is it my psyche? The media? Photoshop? What has made size so important? Will the focus stop when I reach my destination? I guess only time will tell….

I am now 1 size…1 flipping size!!!…from the goal I set for myself when I weighed 248 pounds. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted the scale to say…but I did say that my ultimate stretch goal was to be in a size 6.  What do I do if when I get there?

Speaking of goals… I am 12…yes you read that correctly, 12 pounds from having lost 100 pounds. 100. 1-0-0.

 IMG_1277

I have a feeling this will be the slowest, most drawn out 12 pounds EVER….especially with Thanksgiving around the corner. I can do it…I can do it…I can do it…I can…who am I kidding…I’ve already done it!

A triple digit loss is just gravy on the accomplishment train…a very healthy, vibrant, beautiful (low cal) gravy…

Have a great weekend, all!

“Happiness is not a goal; it is a by-product.” ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

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