I read a lot of diet blogs. These people are all going through the same things I am, and it helps to know that we're all in the same boat, and to touch base with everyone's struggles and triumphs. I love looking at progress pictures and seeing someone shrink before my very eyes as the months go by and the pounds fade away. Following someone else's journey makes me feel less alone.

Lately in the diet blogging world I've noticed that you're not supposed to say that you wanted to lose weight so you could fit into cute new clothes. It's not as cool to be excited about wearing a pair of size four pants as it is to be able to run farther and faster or to lift more. We're all just supposed to be in for the sake of being healthy and loving ourselves and wanting a great glowing sense of fitness or something.

And while I understand and admire that sentiment, I really do, I have to admit, that even though I love the fact that I can run five miles without stopping, I would be lying if I said I didn't also care about the size 4 pants I've got hanging in my closet that actually fit me. A lot.

For me, it's like this. The other day, I tried on an outfit I wore to a fancy Christmas party years ago. When I was at my largest, I KNEW I would never wear that outfit again. It might as well have been hanging on a distant shelf marked "Not For You, Fatty" instead of in the back of my closet. The only reason I kept it because it was really expensive, and I just couldn't justify getting rid of it. And also because I think I wanted to hold on the feeling of being the girl who put on that outfit and wore the hell out of it and just felt FABULOUS. Even if I didn't have that feeling anymore, ever, maybe that Christmas dress reminded me that once, I had known what it felt like to look GOOD, and to feel great. It reminded of what it was like to really love how I looked.

And now, that same outfit is too big. And I'm not sure what to think about that fact. It makes me proud of how far I have come, but it makes me sad that I was so firmly convinced I couldn't do something, when obviously I could. I did. And it makes me feel a little disoriented, to be honest. I feel like I missed out.
The damn dress still doesn't fit, but now it's too big, and I still can't let it go.

If only I could somehow get that girl back, the one who felt beautiful, no matter what size, maybe I could let the dress go.