Trying to step away from the ledge Tuesday, September 11, 2007

My body is not a wonderland so much as it is a creepy House of Mirrors these days. There are times when I stand naked in front of my mirror and I imagine that I can actually see myself melting, that I can see the skin and fat oozing downwards along the lines of my body. I have watched myself shift from a woman who could only be defined as having an hourglass shape to one who is most definitely pear-shaped. There are saddlebags where there never were before, a result of fat disappearing and making my thighs start to sink. I can fold my belly up onto itself, resembling nothing so much as a Gordita wrap. Warm, pillowy flatbread indeed.

When I type, I am constantly distracted by my hands. My rings are always all akimbo, turned the wrong way with my wedding band spinning one way and my engagement ring spinning the other. And when I reach down to fix them, I can't help but gape a little as I watch the tendons that run the length of my hands dance just below the surface of my skin. I never used to be able to see them move, I just assumed that they were there; now I have visible proof of how my fingers are able to move. And my knuckles are sharper, pointier, deadlier. I should be careful about punching people now.

There are 22 less inches of me now, and a bunch of pounds are gone. I never know how to answer when someone asks how much I've lost. My surgeon would use my starting weight from my consultation and say 45 pounds; my PCP would use my highest weight and call it 48 pounds; I tend to qualify it and say I've lost 30 since the day of surgery. And as awesome as all of those numbers are, as fan-fucking-tastic as it is to be able to say "I've lost 30 pounds in 8 weeks!", I'm having a very hard time not comparing myself to other people, having a hard time convincing myself that 800 calories is not too many, having a hard time convincing myself that this is not all going to stop any minute now, causing my body to stop melting and my inches to stop disappearing and my pounds will stay right where they are, soft and comfortable on my hips.

I'm in a place where I am not always comfortable. I don't know this body, I don't know this life where I eat nothing but healthy food and have a cholesterol number that's dropped 75 points since last November (141, people. It hasn't been 141 since I was in high school, I'm pretty sure). I don't even recognize myself right now. And I'm not talking about my reflection; I'm talking about my SELF, my being, the person that is living this life. I am not the woman with the tendony hands, I'm not the woman who counts out 6 Cheez-Its to satisfy a craving, I'm not the woman who plans workouts at 9pm because that's when they fit into her busy schedule.

The smaller jeans have been easy to slip into. The entirely new life is going to take some breaking in.