I feel incredibly, incredibly anxious this morning, and it helps when I write to you guys, so that’s why I’m here.
See, between the Christmas holiday and my 22nd birthday, I received quite a bit of cash and a gift card or two meant to be used for clothes shopping. My friends and family pulled together this year and tried to show me their support by gifting me with things that would make my weight loss journey better and easier and more exciting. They all assumed that I’d be thrilled to suddenly have the means to go on a shopping spree—that I’d be ecstatic to be able to just haphazardly spend money on things that would make my weight loss even more noticeable.
And when I first received the money and the gift cards, I definitely was excited and touched by the gesture.
I honestly don’t understand what’s wrong with me. I have been planning for the last week to go shopping, but now I’m just incredibly upset. I’ve put off this process for as long as possible, but the time has finally come.
I need new clothes.
I have to go shopping now.
I’m down 39 lbs. so far, and I don’t have any clothes left that fit me. My t shirts hang off of me, and they don’t look good anymore (not that I think they ever really looked good — plus size women’s clothes are not exactly up-to-speed with the latest trends, ya know). My jeans are baggy, and these days, they seem to have morphed into high-waisted, incredibly unflattering pants.
I know all of this. I see it when I look in the mirror. I feel it when I put my clothes on… Yet here I sit, drowning in anxiety, virtually paralyzed with fear about the shopping trip I planned for today. My stomach is in knots, and I’m not going to lie to you… There were tears this morning. There are tears right now as I’m writing this.
I hate shopping for clothes. Hate it. For the past 10 years, I’ve shopped at one store and one store only to buy clothing because I know that going there to shop is a sure thing. I know that there’s always things I can fit into there. Since I was a pre-teen, this store has been a faithful friend, a place where I didn’t have to feel completely out of place because the size I’ve needed has always been middle of the road—there were plenty of sizes both above and below me, so I didn’t feel anxious about trying stuff on.
But several months ago, they closed the branch of this particular store that was nearest to me. Now I’ll have to drive close to 45 minutes to get to another one, and today, that’s a last resort. I’ll only drive that far if I have to.
See, the girls at my Weight Watchers meeting have been telling me to shop for new clothes for weeks.
“You have to do this for yourself, Rachael. It’s part of the process.”
“You’ll be surprised at how good you feel, Rachael.”
“Your weight loss will shine through once you do this, Rachael. You’ll see yourself much more clearly when you’re finally back in the right size clothing.”
They told me to branch out and go to new places to shop. I’m smaller now, undoubtably so, so it’s time to step out of my comfort zone apparently.
They told me to go to Old Navy—that the plus size section there is full of cute stuff that would definitely fit (they apparently go up to size 30, and the largest size I’ve ever worn is a 22 so…). They also told me to go to Target because their plus size section is full of graphic tees that fit my style, I guess—quirky and snarky shirts and lots of stuff with quarter sleeves, which is what I wear to cover my arms because I hate their shape (or lack thereof) so much.
They all told me this would be a good idea and that I’d be fine, but so far, this is not going well, which speaks volumes about how the day is probably going to go in its entirety since I haven’t even left my house yet.
I’m not sure what the root of my anxiety is. I guess there’s just a part of me that’s afraid that I haven’t gone down in sizes yet, which is kind of an insane thought since I know that my current clothing does not fit me, but that thought is still there anyways. What if I’m still the same size that I was 17 weeks ago? What if these places don’t have clothing that fits? What if nothing looks good? What if, what if, what if?
And then there’s also a part of me that’s afraid to do this incase stuff does fit. If I’m in a smaller size, will that put a halt to the streak I’m on right now? Will seeing myself in a new light cause me to stop losing weight? Will I suddenly get complacent because I look different—maybe better?
And then there’s a small part of me, too, that has this hope that I won’t even need these clothes I’m planning to buy for very long anyways because I want so badly to keep losing weight… But is it wrong to hope for that? I feel weird hoping for that. I feel like it’s not okay to have that hope or desire for some reason.
My mind is swirling with a million thoughts right now, and I’m pretty close to just throwing in the towel and doing this another day. Maybe I’ll just invest in a belt instead. I can wear my current clothes until they literally fall off of me.
Seriously… what is wrong with me today? Where is this coming from?