Oh, wait. I got rid of all the fat pants. And for good reason. I got rid of them so that when I reached this point it would be significant. I can't just comfortably fall back into a pair of baggy clothes that allow me to expand further. I either have to spend money on bigger clothes, lose a few pounds, or have nothing to put on. Not a fun place to be, but I am there and have a choice to make.
OK, so here it is, the truth...I have gained 20 pounds back. I have had people say to me, "You are still down 80," "You still look good," "Maybe this is a better weight for you." I do recognize I am still down significantly, how I look is subjective and somewhat irrelevant, and I reject that this might be a better weight. Why? Because I know what I have eaten to get me here and it includes eating too much, and foods that I know are not good for me. I have fallen in to behaviors that characterize the old me. I have snuck chocolate out of the freezer and not wanted anyone to know. I have eaten whatever was convenient instead of eating what I know was good for me. I have begun to see food again as a comfort instead of a necessity for health. I also am growing uncomfortable in my own skin. I am tired and achy. I have a hard time getting dressed because nothing feels good or comfortable. I have even had a hard time shopping for a few needed things. I have felt the old feeling of choosing what looks least bad, instead of what I like. I hate that feeling and don't want to be there. It steals my confidence and my time.
So where are my fat pants? At Goodwill, where they belong. Where are a pair of pants that fit? In my drawer waiting for me to fit in to them again. How do I get there? Via the gym. (I could use some cheering and so forth here.) I'll not let this be the first 20.
