at last

Some of you have been calling round here for ages now.

You may remember a decision. A target was set. A seemingly unrealistic, totally bonkers, good for a laugh type target. The start of  a long process- one step forward, two back. I discovered that, once there had been initial success, motivation was lacking. And anyway, that target meant nothing. I can’t take much exercise. I like wine too much. I’m easily led astray.

Despite the pizza, wine and crisps, I discovered the joy of needing smaller clothes, and being able to buy garments in a previously impossible size. I persevered.

Many months later, and 42 lbs less, I reached the target today.

I did a little dance on the scales.

There is only one problem- I have to stick with it. That 42 lbs could be rediscovered very easily.

the unfatted calf

I’m of average height.

I’m a healthy weight.

Thanks to 18 months sort of following a weight watching plan, there is less of me than there used to be, but I’ll never be of a slender build.

I’m sort of sturdy; a fine lump.

I’m mostly pear shaped, with short, strong legs. I envy people with long legs even more than I envy people with cheekbones.

The world is full of people this shape, people who look longingly in shoe shop windows at knee length boots. And then move on.

Away from the boots. Away from the humiliation of not being able to get the boots past their ankles. Away from the bruises caused by squashed calves. Away from bulging knees.

People, I have news!

Exciting for me news! Confidence boosting news! News that makes all the weeks of ‘on a bit, off a bit, on a bit’ weight changes worthwhile.

I walked into a shoe shop. I tried on a pair of boots*. They zipped up. I could walk. My legs looked less dumpy and scruffy. That’s never happened before in my whole adult life.

Reader, I bought them.

.

*yes, I do mean wide fitting boots with elastic at the back; I’m taking what I can get here!

the oddest thing

Something very odd happened at the weekend.

I looked in the mirror and thought ‘I could wear that tunic as it is’, ie: with no cardigan or leggings.

Then I realised what I’d done. I had looked at my legs and considered exposing them to the world. Only on a beach, obviously, but still.

That’s me, Speccy McSpec, and my own legs.

The white ones that wobble.

I didn’t see enormous, scary items. I saw regular legs. The like of which we all see on the street any day.

My legs looked like normal legs.

Did a gremlin come along and flip a switch in my head?

Did my shock at Girl2′s leg predicament mean that I actually started looking at my own body realistically, instead of just pretending to. Does ‘fake it til you make it’ work? Have I begun to accept the healthy messages?

I’m smaller than I used to be, but I’ll never be skinny. I’m regular, with padding. Normally I only see the padding.

This weekend I saw the regular, and the world shifted a little bit on its axis.

restorative shopping

I was a bit panicky. I was anxious. There was no obvious reason, just a mood that took on a life of its own.

The regular reader and I agreed that I needed to simply look after myself a bit. I backed away from expectations and went on a mosey round town. I went to the new arts centre, and was underwhelmed. I need to go back another day, when I’m ready to be enthused by concrete and lack of direction.

Instead I went shopping. Isn’t my subconcious remarkably unsubtle?

Yes, people, when I needed to look after myself I bought cushions. Soft, supportive, cuddly cushions.

When I’ve been thinking of my parents a lot, I buy something with a huge red phone box on it- a cipher for their work, how much of my childhood was shaped by the family business.

I bought some boring, predictable t-shirts and the ultimate comfort garment, a cardigan.

I bought a bag. Well, of course I bought a bag. I probably didn’t even need to tell you that.

Weight Watchers crackers: I’m trying not to comfort eat like crazy.

Cheapy cups and bowls. When in doubt, buy crockery- or at least plastic outdoorsy versions.

After all that, my subconcious took me off for big coffee and lunch of a cheese and ham panini.

I looked at my plate and at my shopping, and laughed at the predictability of it all. Mind you, comfort shopping- or maybe it’s the ability to laugh at myself- works.

The anxiety is easing, for now.