Too Big

I was informed a couple of weeks ago by a co-worker (female) that no one could tell that I’d lost 40 pounds because I wear my clothes so big and baggy.

I shrugged and figured, who cares? I mean, I know I’ve lost. I can tell. I feel so much better in my (baggy) clothes, that I don’t really care if she could tell I’ve lost.

But then a couple of days later, one of my aunts told me that I looked great, but then she added that I’d look even better in clothes that fit.

I told her I was wearing clothes that were two sizes smaller than the ones I’d worn just four months ago.

She sighed and said, “Honey, yes, but those clothes were too big too and you’ve just moved to smaller clothes that are too big.”

Which…whatever. I am not willing to cram my still largish body into tight clothes that pinch and bind and stretch over my still pudgy stomach.

No thank you.

This morning, though, I was getting dressed and even I was able to see (by looking in the mirror) that the shirt I’d put on was too big.

That’s a big deal. I’ve noticed my pants slowly getting too big and that’s why I’ve steadily moved down two sizes (sometimes three depending the pants/brand/time of day.) But my shirts have been pretty consistent. Yes, they’re a little looser but nothing so baggy that it looks terrible (to me. Ask my aunt or my coworker and they’d probably have a different opinion.)

That shirt this morning was definitely too big. I’m learning, slowly with many setbacks, that I really do look better in clothes that fit. They don’t have to be skin tight, but when they fit, they show how much smaller I really am. I think I might have to actually embrace the idea of wearing slightly tighter clothes these days. Tight? No. Fit? Sure, maybe. It could happen.