Down fifty

As my regular readers may have noticed, I live in metric country. But blogging about condensing myself gets me to convert my measurements to US pounds rather regularly.
This morning, I had the expected visit from the whoosh fairy: down two pounds from yesterday. When I converted my total loss to pounds, I saw...fifty! Fifty pounds gone off my top weight.
Kilogram-wise, it´s 23 down, 17 to go till goal, which means that I am more than halfway there. I haven´t weighed that much- rather, so little- since 2002, before my last big gain..
So, any further loss is taking me into unfamiliar territory. I have to find out what to clothe a body of that size with, how to move it, how to define myself.
For way too long, I´d been defining myself as "the fat one", the one who was glad if she found anything that fit her at all. I lived in a uniform of stretched-out jeans, elastic-waist skirts and baggy t-shirts, which in winter were replaced by equally baggy turtlenecks, topped off with jackets whose only saving grace was that I was able to put them on at all.
I have, over the last months, started to replace my wardrobe piece by piece with things that fit me now.
But, when browsing the clothes stores, I still find myself pulling out the plus sizes out of habit, only to put them back tut-tutting because these are way too big by now.
The rapid losses of the last few weeks are begetting a problem I never thought I´d have. Blouses and even jackets and coats may be somewhat oversized and still look good. But jeans? They are still my favourite kind of pants, and I like them tight-fitting. The part of me that seems to be changing the most right now is my posterior. Now, I don´t really grieve losing some inches off my backside, after all, I have always had a bit too much...abundance...there, but the smaller behind makes the seat of my jeans droop down in a bunch of superfluous material. I don´t feel good in jeans that don´t fit properly, but then again, I haven´t even worn out the ones I bought this spring, and I´d be crazy to go shopping for new ones when I know they´d be drooping, too, within mere months (I hope). So, I´ll have to stick with what I have for now. Perhaps I´ll be able to take them in a bit on the weekend, although I´m not so certain of my talents as a seamstress. And I´ll have to do another wardrobe raid to evict the ones that have, by now, become positively unwearable. To me, too-big clothes are like a grown-out haircut. One day I wake up and find that I need a haircut now, and don´t feel good until I had it. I have the same kind of itch when I find my pants are getting too big, but I have decided to wait at least until Christmas (and hopefully another coupla kilos and another size down) to scratch it.
And until then, I´ll try to rejoice in what the droopy bottoms mean: another part of me recondensed.


Julia