I have nothing but proof that my body is shrinking. The scale is going down, my clothes fit looser, people comment often that I look as though I'm disappearing, and i'm wearing three-four dress sizes smaller than I was in April. Yet most of the time, when I look in the mirror, I could swear that I look exactly the same.
Perhaps it's because I'm losing weight evenly so I'm the same shape but a smaller version. Or perhaps it's because when you spend so long being a certain size, you don't realize that you actually are smaller yet. Whatever the case, I find this phenomena as frustrating as it is scary. I don't want to turn into one of those people who's rail thin but still sees themself as a plus-size person. I'm aware that many people have at least a mild form of Body Dysmorphic Disorder. Even the skinnest girl will think that her arms are fat or a model will think that his nose is too big. But will I never see myself as I really am? Will I always have the twisted thought that someone just switched all my clothes for bigger sizes while I slept?
I don't want to be obsessed with my weight forever, whether it be lowering it or maintaining it. I'm finally coming to the part of my journey that is going to be an emotional struggle to accept who I'm becoming. I need to figure out what got me to weigh almost a quarter of a ton. I need to figure out what triggered my "click" moment where I finally buckled down and got serious about my health. Most importantly, I need to figure out how to love myself.
Can I ever forgive myself for letting it all get so out of hand in the first place?
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