I originally posted this on my Weight Watchers blog. It seems important, and worth sharing outside of a world that's become pretty important to me - with the rest of you. It's a significant discussion for all sorts of reasons - for me, and way beyond my own personal journey. So I'm sharing it here, slightly edited from the WW version, which has all sorts of WW acronymns. Seriously, the plan is almost as bad as the federal government. I know. I do both.
I also fully recognize the irony - though we can talk later about whether it really is irony - about me posting both a Dining in Style and a Health Style within hours of one another. Discuss.
A Weight Watchers Online friend posted an informal poll on her blog about whether the scale number or the clothing number are more important to you in your "weight loss journey." I'll start by saying I'm grateful she asked the question.
It got me thinking after I read it - and apparently got a lot of others thinking, too. There was a whole lot of discussion, maybe even some hurt feelings, as is wont to happen in online forums, and, around it all, a lot of thought. And then I promptly forgot it in the craziness of yesterday.
Then I tried on some clothes in the process of getting my post-gym bag ready for this morning. Every night before a workout, I put my bag together (less excuses, and less opportunity for The Beans to "catch" me before I leave the house). I couldn't figure out what to wear today, so I tried on a few clothes I'd pulled out of the pre-Bean-No.-2 box in the basement, hoping. They've been sitting in our room, basically collecting dust, for weeks.
This morning I'm wearing a pair of size 12 KORS by Michael Kors trousers I last wore in July of 2009. I know this because the drycleaning tag still on said pants said 7/13/2009. I'd bought them when I'd lost weight post-Bean No. 1.
These pants not only fit, but are a little loose.
I tried on others from the basement last night, and found some fit, some didn't. Some will have to go in the "donate" pile, either because I should have tried them on 2 weeks ago, apparently (a different pair of size 12s looks like they're hanging off of me), or because my shape's changed enough, weight aside, that they just won't flatter my body any longer.
All in all, it was an inspiring 15 minutes of trying on clothes and parading out to the living room to show H, where he sometimes noticed, sometimes didn't. "Big Bang Theory" was on, you know.
And it got me thinking about my online friend's question again.
Clearly, the label number can't mean that much - 2 pair of pants with the same number fit me so differently. And I know that the size 8 dress of my mom's (from her college days) that I wish I still had (it had the coolest print and brass buttons) would never, ever, ever fit me again. It last fit me in early high school. Even though, at this point, a 2012 size 8 feels attainable.
But I'm not sure it should.
I also love that number dropping on the scale. I've been peeking this week, and can't wait for tomorrow morning, when I do my official once-weekly weigh-in. I'm sure I'll feel differently in a week that isn't moving as quickly, but I love that number going down.
I also love the numbers on the tape measure going down as I take my own hip, waist, bust, thigh, and arm measurements weekly. When I easily pull it tighter than I know it was last week, then enter said number in the online tracker, and the graph line drops, I love that visual. (Seriously, WW online has the best graph tools. I love graphs. Geek.) Happy dances all around.
But what I love most, I think I've figured out, is:
I feel better.
I feel healthier.
I look better.
It hit me this weekend, and it hit me again yesterday morning as I worked out with TrainerJen. She had me on that bouncy step platform thingy, and I was facing the mirror. I was watching myself, watching my form as I stepped up and down, and watching how my body was moving.
2 weeks ago, even, I would have angled myself away from the mirror so I didn't have to watch me as I worked out.
I'm not talking about vanity, here, though that's certainly at play. I must've turned myself every which way to check me out in the office bathroom 20 times yesterday. What I'm talking about is that I'm not afraid to see me right now. I feel better, so I like me better. It is, I'm sure, deeper than that, even, and all tied up with all sorts of self-type issues.
This morning, in my inadvertent private yoga class, we were working on some areas that I need to work. It wasn't working. Something was keeping me from pushing up into up dog. I couldn't do it. TrainerJen commented that there's something emotional at play, some change in my life that I'm not able to release yet. She had me pause and do lion breaths. They're fun. And productive. I laughed when we were done. And then I started to tear up.
I'm fairly sure it's the old me leaking away, in lots of ways.
If you're not already following me on Twitter, please do. @DCCeline. If you want to see where I am on my get-healthy goals, look for #healthyme on Twitter and healthyme or healthy style on this blog. If you happen to be a fellow Weight Watchers devotee, I'm also over there, blogging about getting healthy again.