There is a PAIR of brand new jeans sitting on my bed. They are 9's.
And I'm terrified to try them on.
My 10's fit comfortably, but 9's? That's a whole new size for me.
A SINGLE DIGIT SIZE.
I have often wondered it this day would ever come at all. After the cake and cookie setbacks, the stalling, the plateauing, the emotions constantly pushing me to eat...
And I wondered how I'd feel about it. Lots of people have worn a 9 or smaller their enitre lives.
This is the girl who wore the 26W pants. Who one day (not that long ago, I might add) had a 50 inch waist. My waist was over 4 feet round. Now it's under 3 feet. And I'm not sure how I feel about that. Because in my head, I see other gals wearing size 9's, and wish I could look like them. I want to be their size. And I just might actually be.
But in my head- OH LORDY MY HEAD!
My head still tells me I'm barely out of that 26W. It tells me how much more work there is to do. How this isn't about just losing weight anymore. It's about becoming strong and healthy. FIT.
People are starting to tell me I'M THE THINNY. And it makes me want to scream at them "NO! I am exactly like you!" Because that has been who I was for as long as I can remember.
I've never been the thin one. Not once.
But those jeans... those jeans keep calling out to me! Because why couldn't they fit? I've been working so hard for so long- walking around for days being sore every place on my body. Sweating out gallons of persperation, lifting, moving, running.
And it all boils down to this moment.
Am I really ready to be a size 9? Is my body becoming a size 9?
I could handle a snug 16.
I was thrilled about a 10!
But a 9?
Will they fit?
And how will I feel if they don't?
I suppose we are just going to have to find out.
tales of the cupcake part one
2 days ago