Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Victories On and Off the Scale

Today I am three weeks post-op.  It seems like it's been longer in some ways, but in other ways it seems like it was just yesterday.

I had my monthly appointment with Dr. H. (my primary) this morning, and when it came time to get dressed, I stood at my closet and contemplated my current wardrobe.  There isn't much at the moment; shortly before my surgery I packed away all of my too-small clothes in nine (yes, really - I'm a clothes horse) meticulously-labeled bins.  I had, however, left a few too-small things in my closet - mainly a couple pairs of jeans and skirts that I anticipated could be worn after dropping ten or twenty pounds, a few articles that would bridge the gap until I'd have to go digging into the bins of much-smaller sizes.

I pulled out a pair of jeans that I'd worn once.  I bought them months ago without trying them on because...well, because at that point I couldn't bear to face myself in the fitting-room mirror.  They were the same brand and size as another pair of jeans I'd owned, but they were a different cut.  I didn't stop to think it might make a difference, but it did.  When I got them home and put them on, I felt like a sausage in a casing.  I had to lay down to button them, and when I stood up I could barely walk.  My gut was spilling over the top in a spectacular display of super-mega muffin-top, and the only way I could get away with it was by wearing an enormously long and baggy top over them.  But who was I kidding?  I could barely breathe.  I wore these jeans for about 30 minutes to a dinner gathering at my house in December, after which I had to excuse myself to go change into a more comfortable pair of pants.  I could barely hold a conversation in these jeans - how could I possibly expect to entertain 15 or so guests all night?  I shelved them and in the ensuing months I tried unsuccessfully a few more times to put them on, but they always ended up right back on the shelf in my closet. 

So this morning I took them out again.  I wasn't sure what would happen, and I prepared myself for possible disappointment.  After all, by the time I put them back the last time I couldn't even get them buttoned.  But I started to put them on anyway, and they eased right up over my hips and buttoned without incident.  As I zipped them up I felt a rush of pride - I've lost enough to fit into an article of clothing that I couldn't wear.   That is what is called a "Non-Scale Victory," or "NSV."  I'm considering it my first official one. 

I considered changing into something more lightweight, seeing as I was heading for the doctor and would be weighed there.  But I was so proud of myself for fitting into them, I wanted to wear my victory all day, a few extra pounds be damned.   And besides - I was probably wearing jeans the last time he weighed me.  So whatever.  When I got to the doctor and got on the scale,  I watched with absolute glee as the PA first moved the large slider to the 250 mark and the balance didn't move.  For the first time in months she had to move it down to the 200 mark.  The final number was 228 - thirty-one pounds less than I was on April 1st - exactly one month ago.  Even with jeans on. Victory #2 for the day.

As Charlie might say, I'm...





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