I’ve long struggled with the question of, “When is the right time to blog about the fact that I’ve lost a lot of weight?” The long goal has been at 100 pounds lost — but I’m only at 84 now. I’ve debated waiting until I’ve achieved my goals and reflecting on the act as a whole. I’m not very far off now1, but the closer I get to that, the more I want to unload about it.
I’ve got a half-written draft about the serious, intelligent, emotionally confusing aspects of a significant change in one’s body. How it’s scary to confess to something as personally heavy as “I’m actively losing weight,” even though I’ve hit a point where the cat is out of the bag: most people distant from me have noticed, and most people close to me have been listening to me talk about it for a long time. I have a lot of feelings about how the decision to drastically change my body ties into my struggles with depression and anxiety, my self-esteem, and my overall beliefs related to body positivity and health at every size.
But fuck all that. I’m writing a blog post about my bodice.
So, I Got a Bodice in 2009
Andy’s mother purchased my wedding dress at the Kansas City Renaissance Festival. It was a lovely dress, but I could never tie is as cleanly as the women we bought it from did. The end result (both at my wedding and in later events) has always been a bit sloppy.
I tried it on later, about six months before I started actively started trying to lose weight. It took, like, a mile of cord and all the upper-body strength in the universe to get it tied. It never closed all the way. It always warped weird. (It is actually bent at a weird angle even off of my body.) It didn’t look quite right on me.
So the thing got relegated to the backs of closets, too nice for me to get rid of (even when I was throwing away everything related to my marriage in a fit), but not worth trying to wear. It got dirty, somehow. Eventually Miles discovered it and said, “Mom, look, I found my armor!” I didn’t bother to dispute that.
Then this afternoon, I woke up from a nap. I rolled over, looked at this ribbon sitting on my bookshelf, and thought, “Hey, I wonder how my bodice fits now.”
What once took all the cord in the universe now tied easily with a ribbon. It’s actually sort of loose; I can wiggle it around and get my hands under it. It doesn’t even hoist my breasts right — in the picture below, I actually had to position them like that.
Losing weight comes with weird peaks and valleys of intense pride and almost insurmountable frustration. I’d been having one of those weeks where it was more frustration than pride. (With a fair helping of fear.)2
Moments like this help me feel like it’s going to be okay. That of all the things in the world that are insurmountable and unchangeable, my body is not one of them. My body and I are not two things at odds.
I’ve lost a bunch of weight, and had another visual reminder this afternoon. On the left is the picture of me wearing my bodice circa June 2012. On the right is the picture of me wearing it in November 2014.
I’m going to go make cream cheese whipped frosting now.
1. My goals are fluid, so it’s hard to explain exactly how far I am. But not far.
2. I know that I’m making all this sound a bit negative. I promise it’s actually been a largely positive experience.