Getting There

Tom and I attended his high school reunion this past weekend.

The day before the reunion, my mom asked me what I planned to wear. I told her I wasn’t sure yet.

She said that if I wanted to go sleeveless…

She stopped when she saw the look on my face.

I haven’t worn a sleeveless shirt since 1995. The dress I wore in my brother’s wedding a few weeks ago was sleeveless but that was a VERY special occasion and I was still hyper-aware of my stupid arms most of the day.

But, my logical mind whispered, you’ve lost 52.5 pounds. Don’t you think maybe your arms are smaller?

Sure, the mean girl in my head sneered. They’re smaller than ENORMOUS, which means they’re just huge now.

To stop the fighting going on between the voices in my head, I went home and measured. My arms are two and a half inches smaller now than they were back in December. I consider that to be a pretty good improvement.

Not a tank top or sleeveless blouse improvement but definitely a tangible improvement.

But then, just because I had the measuring tape out and knew the comparison number, I measured my waist. I’d last had it measured at work for a health program back in October, so yes, ten-ish months ago. And what do you know? My waist is now seven inches smaller than it was all those months ago.

That, my friends was an ego boost. The arms? Still need some serious work but that waist? It’s making me pretty darned happy.