Sarah Gone Wild

I know I have a ways to go yet, but I had a realization today that I think might help me over this mental hump I’ve reached.

So, I was at Old Navy over lunch, on my quest for shirts that fit. Most of my closet contains clothes that are pretty sloppy looking on me now, and I’d like to look halfway decent when I go out in public, plus I’m getting a kick out of catching glimpses my hot new bod reflecting back at me from tinted windows (but no, I’m not that girl…stick with me).

So, I’m trolling the clearance aisle and I head straight for the rack of mediums, grab a handful of items and head to the fitting room. No shit, every single shirt fit. I actually got to pick what I bought based on what I really WANTED, instead of having what fit dictate my purchases. I’m THAT girl! I can fit in stuff! I mean, I can actually look at stuff and know how it’s going to fit and that there are pretty good chances that I’ll look pretty decent in it. For people who have never been big, you have NO IDEA what an incredible feeling this is. Shopping is finally fun again.

Oh, and I exchanged a size 12 pants for a size 10 this weekend. I don’t even care that they run big, because now I can say, “Oh, I’m a 10 or 12, depending on how they’re made.” Again, if you haven’t been heavy, you really cannot identify with how impactful this statement is. I comfortably fit in the misses department and I don’t have to wonder if or when I’ll need to start shopping the women’s department. I can even buy some juniors-sized stuff (mostly shirts, but not button down, and not pants because juniors aren’t fitted for tits, hips or asses).

But in cue-sad-violin-music news, my knee is not cooperating with this whole running thing. I might be changing my mind on that whole thing…we’ll see.

Well, okay, I was just recruited to go do on-the-street focus groups on the Loop…great. Peace out, homefries.

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