Adios, "Fat Clothes"

Yesterday was a first for me. I took all of my “fat clothes” (the stuff that no longer fits), folded each  ite  and placed everything in Hefty bags for pickup by the Salvation Army. It was a bit like a funeral. And a bit like a rebirth.

Oh, yeah, I’ve lost weight before. And in the past, I threw my clothes into the trash the second they got too big … only to be sorry a few years later when I inevitably gained the weight back. But this time, I kept the clothes for a while. I’ve lost about 60 pounds, and they’re definitely hanging on me. For some reason, though, it took time to feel ready to relinquish them.

Why did I throw out my fat clothes so fast before? Disgust.  Shame. Self-loathing. Oversized clothing represented my oversized body, and I wanted them  gone, gone, gone — I couldn’t get rid of the clothes (or the weight) fast enough. And, unfortunately, it seemed like they couldn’t come back fast enough, either. Yup, I’m a yo-yo veteran.

How many times have I lost weight? Almost more than I can count. In fact, I’ve lost the equivalent of several human beings (big ones!). But this time feels different:

• This time, I feel more connected to my body. Exercise plays a huge role here — more so even than diet. I feel more aware of my body — and what it means to “lose it.” Because it is a loss, in more ways than one. For me, it’s a  little bit like a death. I’m losing my image of myself, and  of the way I think (want?) others to think of me. I’m losing my  protection. And I’m losing my mother again; even though she died when I was a teen, eating (really, overeating) has helped to keep her alive, because my mother represented nurturing and caring and love. So did her cooking. But I’m also losing something that keeps me unhappy, unhealthy, unwhole.
• This time, I’m  more compassionate toward myself. As I folded those clothes, I felt a sadness for the woman who uses food to filter her feelings. Who feels safer when she’s heavier. Who feels less afraid when she’s got bigger, fleshier armor. And a respect for what she’s accomplished.
• This time, I’m more conscious. The fact that I could spend time folding and putting away those clothes is nigh-on miraculous. The act was deliberate. It was self-aware. It was how I want and need to live.

This is heavy stuff (pardon the pun). I didn’t plan to get quite so intense in my inaugural blog! But these are … well, weighty issues. And I know I’m not alone with them. I hope you’ll share your experiences with me.