Sunday, December 09, 2012

Okay, Skinny Girls. Spill.

I am officially the thinnest I have ever been. Actually, I was the thinnest I have ever been about ten pounds ago, but that's neither here nor there. Since I stopped eating like a teenage linebacker, and started working out three to seven times a week, I have lost:
  • 43 pounds,
  • 8 dress/pants sizes,
  • 4 inches off my bra band size, and four cup sizes (yay! my bra cup size could now be found on an exceptionally dull student's report card!),
  • and a half a ring size.
I feel like the innermost version of a Mary matryoshka doll. This is a reality to which I am still becoming accustomed.  Not that I'm Twiggy. Never could  be. Seriously, I could lose another twenty pounds and not achieve that kind of big-eyed, attenuated figure. Which was never my goal, and that's kind of good, because it would be impossible.  See, I am descended from peasant stock. No matter what I weigh, this here's a body meant for manual labor (read: muscles) and babies (ever seen a fertility goddess statue? I could've posed for one back in May). Point is, I'm not fixated on looking pin-thin.

About a decade ago (are you still reading this?) I mentioned goals. GOOOOOOOOOAAAALLLLLLLS! My goals never revolved around a specific loss of pounds or jeans size. Nope. When I committed to losing weight, my goals were to:
  • hit a healthy BMI, 
  • not wheeze like an asthmatic when I run three miles, 
  • and comfortably wear pajama pants, instead of having them bite me in the midsection like an angry Komodo dragon.
I have achieved these goals three. Which means that I've officially downshifted into a maintenance phase.  Maintenance means that I am eating a little more liberally, and working out about three times per week. Also? Part of the maintenance phase is attempting to tighten up my loose belly skin.  I should nickname my midsection to make it more palatable. Ooh, I know! Balloony! Why Balloony? Think "The Red Balloon" at the end, when Pascal and the red balloon are attacked by bullies.

If you've never seen 'The Red Balloon,' you should know that I'm not a crazy person. In the story, a boy and his best friend, an actual balloon, were attacked by mean bullies.Yes, this film is a Thing that Exists. Thank you, France.

Okay, anyway. Here's the thing.  I don't consider myself among the ranks of 'skinny girls.' Maybe I am a skinny girl? Is size 2 officially skinny? Because I always thought you had to shop in the Juniors section for that. Though, that's weird too, right? If you're a grown woman shopping in the Juniors section, there are way too many cartoon characters. They should probably make a Juniors section for adults, and call it 'Trying too Hard.'

Wow, that was judgy, wasn't it?

With this shifting body type, there are Things. Things I have noticed, and I don't know if I'm just a weirdo, or if this is a thin thing.  So, here goes:
  • Do you have to be careful of your tailbones?  A year ago, I never even THOUGHT about my tailbone. Now, I'm like, "Slow down, cowgirl. Shift to the side a bit when you sit up in the tub, or else your tailbone will uncomfortably mash into the fiberglass." I've considered that I have no ass. My mother had no ass, and since I inherited her body, this is likely an asslessness situation exacerbated by weight loss.
  • Do you get cold fairly easily? My husband and I went to the movies, and I seriously had to pack a shawl. A SHAWL! Like an old woman. I wasn't shy about it, though. I totally wrapped it around myself, and then sort of wished that I had a blanket as well.
  • Do you feel/see your heartbeat in your abdomen? I'll be honest. I've Googled this one. This is either a common thing among thin people, or I have an aortic aneurysm. Fingers crossed for the former!
I'm sure there are more things that will come. Like, do your knee-high boots kind of...gape? I don't know. These are weird things to be worried about. But, as I settle into this new shape of mine, there will be questions, because I can't discern if this is the new normal, or if I'm about to have some kind of major medical issue.

If you made it all the way through this, please know that I absolutely, one thousand-mathematically-impossible-percent know that this is a humblebraggy First World Problem. Ooh, middle-class white woman finally kicked an extra forty pounds (caused by a cocktail of affluence and laziness!) to the curb! Instead of a medical necessity, let's call it a journey!

That said, I would really enjoy opinions on this whole tailbone thing.

No comments: