This entry talks about my experience becoming a less fat fatty after illness, resulting in a 60kg weight loss. If it’s likely that talk of weight loss and insecurity are likely to trigger shitty feelings for you, this is your cue to spin on. I don’t plan on making a habit of talking about this topic, so don’t fret that it’s become one of “those” blogs. -P

I feel as vain as Warren Beaty uploading a video of me to my blog. Shameless self promotion has always been my bag, but the last few months I’d felt really drained of the bravado I can normally generate. I know photos of me have never been in short supply at any point during the time I’ve maintained this site, that’s because I was always confident about what I had. But now, a lot of what I had is gone, literally. I’ve gone from a size 24 to a 14. And what I do have, is new and unfamiliar and I’m still getting comfortable in this body.

Society would have me believe that as weight drops, happiness soars. That’s the promise I’d been fed my whole life, pardon the pun. Sure there were days where I’d look in the mirror and curse my anatomy to hell, but most days, I looked in the mirror and just saw me and well, I liked me. I had no reason not to like me, only reasons society told me not to like myself. So while I cursed my fat arse in the dressing room, I never felt inherently bad about my fat arse. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say I’ve liked it on more than several occasions. It’s safe to take from this that I’ve never really been that fussed about changing my body, but there’s a certain pressure to have the desire to ‘do something about it’. I got the occasional twinge of ‘if only’, but mostly I didn’t think about it. That’s not to say other people didn’t think about it- I’ve never known life as one of those people who’s weight wasn’t something that people noticed. When you belong to outer limits of either end of the weight spectrum, people feel entitled to comment on your body at will and to your face. People let you know they notice.

It still gets noticed now, just for a different reason. At first, it overwhelmed me and made me feel incredibly self conscious. It still does at times. I feel naked without the rest of me. It’s like wearing an outfit every day for 27 years, then one day, you change it up and everyone says ‘Oh thank god! You looked terrible! You look so much better now!” I’m only starting to now accept it without over analysing it. Sometimes it catches me off guard, and all of a sudden I’m back in this memory of when I was twelve years old, and I can’t take part in the fashion show because the other girls don’t have any clothes that will fit me. It’s the ‘go to’ moment when I think of the saddest emotion my weight ever caused me. Sounds innocuous enough, but to a pre teen fat girl, it was the most embarrassing moment in the world.

I have mixed feelings about the way I feel about the body I currently reside in. I would be lying if I said that there weren’t moments I’m grateful I got sick, and I lost weight. Just typing that seems like a fucked up thing to say, when I think about how sick I was, but now I live in a body that falls within the spectrum of what society deems acceptable, I’m finding out just how much easier it is on this side of the plus size postcode. I am now allowed the simple pleasure of laying in a hammock because I fit under the weight restriction. All of these things that people celebrate as milestones in their weight loss journey, just pissed me off. I was pissed off that now I could hang leisurely in the sun for twelve bucks, but 6 months before, I’d have needed to pay through the roof to afford a hammock to accommodate to my more-fat self. I was angry I had to wait so damn long to get someone to pay attention to me when I was clothes shopping. Nowadays, clothes that I like are more accessible and affordable and people are happy to ask if I need help, without giving me that “What are you doing in here?” look. While it’s satisfying to feel validated, the conflict I have inside me about societies benchmark for ‘acceptability’ is palpable.

I have wrestled with guilt, self doubt and the fear of what will happen if I were to gain back the weight.  I won’t lie, I don’t want to put it back on, nor do I plan on losing any more. I’m very happy with my body at this size for a number of reasons, one of which is the fact that my Period has returned after being MIA for some years, and as someone who will struggle with fertility anyway, it makes good sense for me to maintain this physical state of health . To be honest, when I look in the mirror, 90% of the time I don’t see any thing different to the image I saw reflected back at me 2 years ago. I just see me, you know? I don’t notice the difference until I see a photo, and even then, sometimes I need to look at them side by side.

As you can tell, I’ve had a lot of stuff swirling around in my head throughout this period of transition. It would be remiss of me to overlook and underplay the significance of the changes this year has brought with it. Also, a few people had asked recently about it on the Formspring, so I figured I’d attempt to convey my uniquely personal and over processed thoughts on the topic. This entry was really difficult to write, because I have struggled with a way to properly articulate how the whole experience has made me feel. I worried about who’d I’d hurt, who’d I’d piss off or offend, but it’s taken me all this time to realise that the opinions of others can’t invalidate my experience and how it’s affected me. I’m just telling like it is, for me.

I don’t know what the future holds, but whatever it is, I want to approach it with happiness and pink flamingos. I’m still learning how to accept the cards the Universe deals and make the best of the hand I’m dealt, but fuck, I’m going to have an awesome time playing the game.