So I logged on to my blog again today. It's been a while, but after more than a handful of my very kind intentioned friends came to me and said, "Hey crazy! Remember back when you used to write? You should keep doing that" I thought I'd log in and see if this thing still worked. And since passive aggressive is one of the many ways to my heart, right up there with cheesecake and guacamole (though not together...although I say that now, and suddenly I'm wondering if an avocado cheesecake might ACTUALLY be the answer to world peace), I bring to you my latest blog. Hope you enjoy.
Where have I been? Well, this time I have a good excuse, and by good excuse I mean I don't only have the excuse of being lazy. Shortly after I wrote last, my company called upon me to go off to St Louis, MO for three months straight. During winter. That last part was just mean. From October 17th through January 17th I lived out of a suitcase, ate gourmet McDonalds, and met some truly truly wonderful people, all while missing the heck out of my friends and family back home and even my gym. Heck, I even missed my scale, snarky little thing that she is. Every Monday morning I woke up way too early to head to the airport and every Thursday or Friday I came home exhausted hoping I had accomplished something good for my team that week. Every Saturday and Sunday was laundry and sleeping time, only to wash, rinse, and repeat for the next week. I decided I love travelling, but maybe not THAT often.
A lot of times I thought, "Gee, I should write a post about this", or "man, that'd be hilarious on my blog", etc. But most of the time I just worked, or watched Netflix, or talked on the phone in my hotel room. And that's a bit of a shame because there was a lot to catch you up on. So here's one of the stories I wanted to tell you that we missed:
I bought new clothes. Clothes that actually fit. It's amazing what having clothes that actually fit can do for you, and man, I have the BEST built in clothes shopper in the world in the form of my sister in law JoDee. Seriously the only thing that could make her better is a British accent, or a catch phrase like, "make it work". I am now giggling to myself imagining her coming up with catch phrases...most of which would not be appropriate for a family blog like this one.
I have not gotten rid of old clothes yet. I know, I know, I should. I even need to. I just struggle with it. Sometimes it's because I think about the old me and how hard it was to find clothes that fit me, and worry that I won't be able to find clothes again if I get rid of these. Sometimes it's just because I get completely overwhelmed by the size of the task and so I don't do it. "Hey Kell, let's clean out your closet" is beginning to sound a bit like, "Hey Kell, let's go take a stroll up Everest". Both comments are met with an intense level of eye rolling on my part...and in all honesty more than a little bit of, "heck yes!!" from my more adventurous side.
So, what about those clothes? When I walked into Torrid that afternoon with JoDee I was wearing a size 34 pair of jeans. The largest pair of pants I owned at any point in time was a size 36 pair of khaki colored jeans that are now folded neatly in a hall closet so that I never forget, but most of the time in my 400+lbs body I was comfortable in a size 34. Right before surgery though, I was pushing the boundaries of those jeans, and even my 34's were leaving little red circumferences begging my midsection to shrink down just a wee little bit. By the time JoDee and I went shopping, I was spending a good deal of my time walking around holding my pants up lest I get ticketed for public indecency.
JoDee had me try on all kinds of clothes. Casual clothes, clothes for work, etc. I learned the joys of what a nicely layered jacket over a cute blouse with the right structural support (read also "a bra that actually fits" and "Kelly bought her first pair of Spanx") can do for you. But it was the moment when JoDee handed me a pair of jeans and told me to try them on that I wanted to freak out. It's not that I never wore jeans, I practically live in them as soon as I get off of work. It's that these jeans were a size 26. Twenty six. Veintiseis. Vieght-six (according to my French speaking friends...friend...well, Erica who took lots of French....nevermind). The last time I had been a size 26 was in high school when I was a 26/28. All of the sudden my fun time shopping with JoDee was about to become real, and I was going to be met with the mortifying failure all over again.
A little back story (hey, these posts aren't exactly known for being short!)...I had my surgery in April 2013. Earlier that year in January I had gone shopping for jeans. Remember how I said that those 34s were getting a little bit tight? Well, they had gone too far and started getting down right uncomfortable, and every Friday my company allows us to wear jeans, so off to Avenue I went in search of a little bit wider cut version of the 34's. Unfortunately Avenue doesn't carry size 34 jeans. I was bigger than the plus size store. Not allowing that to break my heart too deeply, off to Catherines (another plus sized women's clothing store for, let's say, the more mature vintage of plus sized women) I went to see if I could find a pair of size 34's. Catherine's had always been a good back up, especially if I wanted something that might make me look like I was a grandma. I went in the store empty handed, and I walked out of the store in the same manner. They had 34's, but none of them fit.
While all of Nationstar Mortgage would be able to enjoy jeans on Friday, I would not.
Because I was too big. I was bigger than big. I was too big.
I came home that night and told Erica that I couldn't find any jeans in my size, but that it was alright, because I should probably wear dress slacks all week and impress the big wigs anyways.
Truth was I was just embarrassed.
So here I was in Torrid with all of these emotions swirling up inside of me as JoDee handed me a pair of 26's. I said, "Do they have any 28's? I really don't think these will fit me. I wasn't even a 26 in high school". To which JoDee confidently said, "Just trust me and go try them on". So trust her I did. Well, sort of. I walked defeatedly into the dressing room, and looked at my newly shrunken body in the mirror. I stared at my smaller hips, and sucked in my ever loosening belly in hopes that I might actually be small enough. And then I just sighed. I knew that these jeans wouldn't fit me, and I looked myself in the eyes and said, "Kell, it's ok if they don't fit. It's ok. They'll fit soon enough. Give yourself time. They'll fit".
Then slowly yet surely I pulled the jeans up.
First step. They fit around my thighs. Heck, they even made my thighs look slim? Huh? THAT'S weird.
Second stop, my hips. No way on God's green earth would 26's come around these "drop a baby like it's hot birthing hips" and yet they slid up and around my hips no problem.
Step three, oh lovely step three, the button and zipper. Friends, if you think my being able to buckle the belt on an airplane inspired dancing, you should have seen the way I jumped up and down in that dressing room when my new favorite pair of SIZE TWENTY SIX jeans zipped up and buttoned WITHOUT, might I say again, WITHOUT the need for a pair of pliers, or a crowbar of any kind. They zipped, and I almost screamed. Of course screaming in a dressing room is more than likely socially unacceptable, and I didn't want to embarrass JoDee (she was my ride after all), so instead my hands flung to my mouth and I jumped up and down like an idiot in a pair of dark blue size 26 jeans and a bra.
At this point I was done. I was willing too drain my entire savings account and buy every article of clothing this lovely lovely store would sell me, simply because I could. Several jackets, blouses, jeans, slacks, and one adorable red pea coat later (for St Louis of course), I can say I didn't drain my savings, but I did spend more in one shopping trip than I ever had. In. My. Life. But to this day, I get compliments on nearly everything JoDee picked out for me.
Speaking of to this day. I'm wearing those adorable blue jeans right now as I type this. And they are getting a little baggy. I tried on a pair 24's the other night and they fit. I don't even know what to do with that sentence.
I went from 36's to 26's.
I went from 450+lbs to this morning I was 287lbs.
On April 2, 2013 I was 412lbs. That's 125lbs lost in less than a year.
It might be time to clean out my closet.
I wrapped up my traveling at the end of last week. I already miss my team out there, though I'm perfectly content with my Texas weather. My dog has finally stopped giving me attitude for abandoning him, and I'm ready to put my suitcase back in my closet until March when my brother Damien and I are going to Ireland. I'm back to my life, and so I'm back to my blog. Thanks for being patient with me. I have lots more stories to catch you up on, so for now we'll just take them one at a time. Until then, as always, thank you for your love and support. Thank you for being a reason that I smile. And thank you for listening and always giving me a reason to say, "I should write a blog about that". I still haven't figured out a purpose behind this thing at all. I don't have a mission here, or a reason to it, other than just to share my story with you. So, if you're reading this, thank you for being enough of a reason for this shrinking girl to write.
And JoDee, thanks for telling me to "just put it on". You change my life without even knowing it. I should tell you that more often.
