Every person that loses a lot of weight (especially quickly) goes through a “culture shock” of sorts. Our clothes hang from our bodies and we find ourselves lost in the fashions we once used to help people understand who we are. Granted, for the most part, anyone plus size (or even over the size 16) gets stuck in mostly granny fashions or mumu’s, but there are those of us that made do with what we had. I personally took the clothes I found and made my clothes fit my personality. I wear a lot of dark clothes, not necessarily because they’re slimming; though that really is a fantastic side effect. I wear dark clothes because that’s my preference. I like how porcelain my skin looks, how it makes my hair pop. It draws attention to my face and my head.
It draws attention AWAY from my lower body. This includes my chest. I hate my chest. I hate my hips. I am like most women where I stand in the mirror and I see these things that I would carve off my body in an instant. Those two features being the first place I’d start. Anyway, I digress.
A few weeks ago, I had a business meeting with a band I was signing for the music festival I was involved with. You see, I’m a talent director for a production company. This means there is a lot of times where dressing decently and meeting clients is mandatory. So here I am, prepping for the meeting. Hair straightened, makeup done, jewelry picked out. I’m wandering my house in my bra and panties (as I usually do, to be honest. I rather go naked than wear clothes) and I kneel at my laundry bucket to pick out clothes. Laundry had just been done, and I hadn’t had time to fold. Shame on me! Thankfully, musicians usually don’t care if they see a wrinkle or two. It gives me more ‘street ‘cred’- hah! I peel through my whole bucket. Clothes flying out behind me as though a tornado was forming from my hands. I’m left with a v-neck shirt that looks like I got it from affliction (but it was $70 less than most affliction stuff) and a pair of jeans.
Great! Time to get dressed.
Shirt on…… Shirt is hanging off me in all the wrong places. This shirt fit me like a glove two weeks ago. Now, it’s dangling from my breasts and making my stomach look 3 sizes bigger. What. The. Hell.
Okay… Maybe I can fake it. I put my jeans on. These are my super sexy jeans. They cling to my ass like cellophane…..well…..they did.
I stand in my bathroom staring at the mirror. My head up looks hot as hell. My collar bone down looks like I am a skinny gal that decided to dip into the fat section of Macy’s. What happened?
I tore back through my laundry bucket and the tears came. Torrential downpour of tears as I begged to find something that fit even remotely close to what they used to. Nothing. Zero. I sat on the floor and cried like I was a child, and contemplated on re-scheduling my meeting. Hormones be damned.I was so terribly self conscious and painfully aware of every inch of my skin that I felt like I was going to bomb the meeting, even though I’d done this a million times.
I have lost just around 180lbs since I graduated high school in 2000. Since then, I’ve fluctuated in weight, but been more on the losing side. Now that my thyroid medication is pretty well regulated, my weight keeps going down. I don’t have time to know who I am now that the clothes that I used to identify myself don’t fit. The weight is coming off too quickly to keep shopping, so what is a girl to do? I dye my hair enough as it is, and my makeup changes constantly. Who the hell am I? No, really. Who the hell am I?
There is so much that we use on the outside that “defines” who we are. When we lose a lot of weight, what do we have left? We lose our place in society, and have to reinvent ourselves. While evolution is great, what happens when you change so quickly that reinvention no longer becomes an option-at least not an option as many times as you’d like it to be. Honestly, I wish I had the answer for this. I wish I had advice for all of you, as well as myself. I still have this issue, almost daily. I hate my clothes now. Nothing makes me feel sexy or attractive, except when I’m naked. I could be 400lbs (which i was at one point) and I would STILL love being naked–it’s just who’s around that’s sometimes the problem!
I hear that over time this goes away. I hear that once your body changes and you start hitting your target or your goal, that you learn to love to shop. That you learn to love clothes. I truly hope so, because at this point-shopping is a sheer nightmare.
I can’t wait to love my clothes again. I can’t wait to realize who I am, without needing the clothes to prove it. I can’t wait to just be ME again.