It�s nice to be normal. I�m not completely normal yet, but I�m getting close. I�m at least close enough to normal that I don�t stand out in a crowd (except for my amazing beauty). There are so many things I used to think about, thoughts that used to fill my head, that now are just not there. Because they�re gone, I almost can�t remember what it was like to be filled with them. I did say almost.
Walking into a room, feeling all eyes staring at me. Someone in the corner is whispering, they must be talking about me, wondering how I even dare to set foot in public, how could I possibly be wearing THAT, how the hell did I even fit in a car? Then I start to wonder where I�ll sit, how I�ll move about. I need to go to the other side of the room and I�m searching for a safe way to navigate, a way to get from here to there without my big ass knocking down the furniture. Someone�s laughing, they must be laughing at me. I�m hungry but afraid to eat, someone will surely comment on how I don�t need any more food, or at the very least, they are questioning my choices, why I�m picking the cake instead of the carrots. Once I sit down, I feel better, like less eyes are staring at me, almost inconspicuous. But then I don�t want to get up. I feel the need to use the restroom but I don�t want to draw attention to myself. It is easier to just sit here. I can�t engage in conversation. The world is my enemy, no one understands me, they just judge me. And in my head I�m still thinking, do I look okay, are my clothes too tight, do I look strange in this outfit, should I be wearing this, god, I�m the fattest person in the room. Next time, I�ll just stay home.
There was a constant body awareness. There had to be, because I didn�t fit in this world. Literally. Car seat belts. Airline seats. Certain chairs. Clothes. Restaurant booths. Turnstiles. School desks. Amusement park rides. Bathtubs. Public restrooms. Belts. Shoes. Socks. Doorways. Aisles. Jewelry. Movie theater seats. I was so aware that I was living in a world that was 4 sizes too small. So I was always aware of how big I was. Every moment, I was calculating distance, space taken up, trying to figure out if I would fit through those two people on my way to the bathroom. Looking around a room and trying to figure out which chair would hold me. Hoping that nothing embarrassing would happen. Hoping that nothing would happen to draw attention to me. I avoided things for the most part, just so I wouldn�t have to experience the humiliation of being too big. I remember being kicked off two amusement park rides because I didn�t fit. After that, I stopped going. Then there was the business lunch at the restaurant with the chairs with arms. The embarrassment of having to find a different chair since I didn�t fit in that chair. Asking for the seat belt extender on the airplane.
I didn�t go to malls. There was almost no point. Nothing there would fit me. I had outgrown even Lane Bryant. I was a size 30/32. Lane Bryant went up to size 28. Department store women�s sections went up to 24, maybe 26. Clothing choices were minimal. Cute clothing choices almost non-existent. Clothes that made me feel beautiful and sexy? That was just a pipe dream. In my wardrobe, I had 2 pairs of pants that fit (that I hated), 2 pairs of jeans that fit (that I also hated) and 1 denim skirt (that I actually did like, but you can�t wear the same skirt every day). Tops I had a little more choice, but not much. I had other clothes. Clothes that USED to fit. Clothes I carried around from apartment to apartment hoping they would fit again. But I wasn�t getting any smaller. I just kept getting bigger. Clothes that were once loose, suddenly fit perfectly. Then seemingly overnight, they were too small. Every day, just getting dressed was a challenge because I hated my clothes. I was happiest in my comfy sweats or pajamas. Happier still hiding in my bed, my room, not letting anyone see me.
Getting out of bed was painful in more ways than one. It wasn�t just the emotional toll of carrying all that weight, there was a physical cost as well. My joints cried out to me endlessly. Standing up after sitting for a while, I was never sure my knees were actually going to hold me. I walked bent over. I winced at each step. Tossing and turning during the night was just part of the package of trying to sleep. Just the pressure of my body on the bed hurt my hips, my shoulders. Even my ankles and wrists hurt. There was no part of my body immune to the pain. And the fatigue. Energy, what was that? I didn�t have any.
It was over 2 years ago that I finally reached my limit. When I woke up and said �what the hell? And how do I fix this?� It was 2 years ago today when I finally did fix it.
So that�s what this is all about. It�s about remembering where I was. And trying to make sure I don�t go back there again. It�s about feeling normal for the first time. Living in a world where I fit. Walking into a restaurant and not worrying about where to sit. Not wondering if people are talking about me, whispering about me, laughing about me. It�s about shopping in the regular section of the store. Buying pants and shirts in the same department. Finding clothes that fit and look good on me. Walking 50 yards without running out of breath. Walking faster than my friends. Being happy in my own skin.
Normal is good. I like being normal.
