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New Jeans, Baby!

I finally broke down and tried on the two pairs of jeans I bought a couple of weeks ago. I bought them expecting that I’d continue to lose weight, and that I’d be able to wear them eventually. But I didn’t really expect that I’d gotten that far already. Good deal!
I wasn’t going to mention sizes. But geez. I’m not that vain. When I started back with Epes I weighed the heaviest I ever have. 350 lbs. I was wearing size 50 jeans (which I still am, although I have to pull them up constantly). Before Mara left I got down to 304 and was just starting to wear size 48 jeans again. After Mara left, I stopped caring, and got back up to 326 (and had started wearing the size 50s again). I sort of languished there for about six months, because even though I had gotten back with the program, I was going at it half-heartedly. But I made adjustments after Christmas (both in my diet and attitude), and the weight loss has resumed.
At last weigh around March 1st, I came in at 312. I didn’t try on the new jeans, though. Was kind of waiting to get back down in the vicinity of 304 again. Dunno why I tried them on when I got up this morning, but it lifted my spirits a bit. They fit well. Hell, they’re a little loose.
Okay, look. Before anyone starts congratulating me or piling on the accolades and positive reinforcement, that’s not the reason I’m writing this. This is a personal issue for me. I’ve struggled with my weight and a negative self-image all my life. Anyone who knows me knows full well that I have “a will of iron”. If I decide something is going to be, it’s a done deal. Like quitting smoking. Once I made up my mind, that was it. Done deal.
But my weight has been the one beastie I could never conquer. Partly because of bad habits, but mostly because of bad advice (I gained most of the weight from 275 to 325 on various low-fat diets). Now I find myself looking back at pictures of myself in my 20’s and saying things I’ve heard my mother say. Like “I wasn’t nearly as fat as I thought I was”. Hell, I have a picture of myself from 1986, at age 21, playing in a band, and I just shake my head. I was only 10 or 20 pounds overweight. And I hated myself for it. It was inconceivable to me that anyone could find me attractive.
So …
Basically put, I’m writing this for myself. Maybe I’m reinforcing my determination that it’s time for a permanent change. There are health issues at work here, as well. All that extra weight is tearing down my joints and has the potential to cause all sorts of other health-related problems as I get older.
I’m also writing this because I’m not ashamed. In a culture in which the majority of Americans are overweight, why do we let anorexic cocaine-addicted models and actors dictate our sense of self-worth? I’m not doing this to look like them. I’m doing this for me. For my health and well-being.
Besides. I’m told that I’m purty. And if I just lose weight the women will be crawling at my feet.
Hehe. I got a good laugh there. I do so hope you appreciated the use irony.

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