I began this journey at, well, I'm not sure what my weight was. I first recorded my weight in March of 2011, and I was 316.5lbs. I am thrilled to say that as of Monday, 11 months later, I am at 215.5. I should be excited, but I just find myself a bit dumbfounded. What does losing 100lbs feel like? Bowling a year ago, over 316.5lbs. It’s a bit like doing Tae Bo moves without your arm literally smacking you in the face. It’s sitting on the floor and not seeing your tummy down to your knees. It’s not being worried if bathroom stalls will be wide enough. It’s not being angry if you have to sit next to someone in a movie theatre. It’s stretching out my thighs before working out without having to rest against the wall, struggling to bend my knee high enough to grab my foot. It’s walking up flights of stairs, thinking about my breathing and heart rate, hoping that I could make it and that no one would notice how badly I was struggling. It feels like going to an amusement park and not being turned away from a roller coaster because I don’t fit. It feels like not having to work out the logistics for every crowded room, for every seat that might not fit, and all the things you haven’t even thought of yet. It’s being confused when you see a photo with you in it and you don’t stick out anymore. It feels like walking down the street to get coffee, seeing a reflection and thinking, “Huh… She’s cute…” and then realizing it’s you. It’s realizing how badly you wished you could just be a size 18/20 someday, then realizing that you’re past it. It feels like remembering how absolutely hopeless the idea of ever being in the realm of normal health and size seemed. It feels like meeting your friends’ children without their first words to you being, “You’re biiiig,” and having to think of some clever, lighthearted response to show what a good sense of humor you have. It’s making good choices whether or not you’re inspired to. Old "skinny" jeans! It feels like going to Macys on Sunday and daring yourself to put on a size 16 pair of Levis in the regular womens’ department and seeing your ridiculous, giddy reaction in the mirror when they fit. It’s the realization that you can now go shopping anywhere you want and do the same thing. It feels like finding out your feet are really a size 8.5 to 9 wide, not a 10 or 11. It’s finally being able to go shoe shopping and understanding the predicament of trying on 100 you love that FIT, and having to make up your mind. It’s realizing that someone who caught your eye just looked back. It’s dancing like a mad woman so long that you should have collapsed by now, but you just keep going. It’s discovering you have a collarbone. It’s seeing the curve of your shoulders into triceps. And you aren’t even flexing. It feels like chasing your little cousin around the yard. It’s jogging for… Well, it’s jogging. Period. Even if it’s only for a minute. It’s realizing how many people care about you immensely and have genuinely hoped the best for you before you were able to want the best for yourself. It feels like the huge sigh of relief from your parents when they realize that they don’t have to worry that they’ll outlive you anymore. It feels like the hope you didn’t realize you were lacking. It feels like exuding more joy and energy than you were able to before. It’s realizing how much really is possible. It’s realizing that I can do it. Whatever “it” is. It feels like I’m free. It’s living, people. It is living. I remember very, very well how absolutely impossible this seemed. My Mom and I went to see the first travelling-sister-yaya-panthood movie (or Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants, if you will…). Every single time there was a scene in Greece, we’d swoon and whisper how much we’d love to go there. My Mom leaned over to me and said, “When you lose 100lbs, we’ll go there!” I smiled and said “Okay!” and figured it’d definitely, probably, maybe happen someday. I’ve known for many years that I needed to do something. As hopeless as I have been, some part of me knew that it was certain to happen someday. I just didn’t know when. Who knows why we’re wired the way we are, but once a switch inside of me is flipped, it is done. D, O, N, E… Done. I don’t know why it took so long for this internal switch to get flipped, but fashionably late is better than never. The Big Guy Upstairs must’ve known what he was up to, after all. So, how does one celebrate losing 100lbs? We’ll get to Greece, eventually. But for now… By getting a new pair of workout shoes with a gift certificate to Gazelle Sports from your parents! Once again, the folks at Gazelle pointed me in the right direction, new shoe size and all. By making a new dinner concoction, and being quietly satisfied that 100lbs in, you’re satisfied celebrating with a delicious, healthy meal that I will tell you about tomorrow. By sitting on my couch trying desperately to write a blog post, puzzled as to why I’m not more excited about it, then being blessed with the realizations above. While writing this and looking back on my journey so far, I find myself overcome by this thought: I think about you, Readers. I do. And today in particular, I’m thinking very much about those of you who might be in the same boat as I was, feeling hopeless and facing an impossible battle. More than anything, I sincerely and earnestly hope that something in this little blog of mine will show you just how deserving and capable you are of making it happen. I have silly amounts of love for you, and want desperately for you to have your own interesting, difficult, amazing journey to share. Thank you for being a part of mine! From top left to bottom right: my skinny jeans size 24, workout pants size XL pants and L tshirt from Old Navy, size 24 skinny jeans from side, size 28 skirt, current size 18 jeans that are too big, black dress size 22/24 from Lane Bryant. Pin It Tweet