What it looks, or actually, feels like to be a size 16.
I won't pretend that this makes me any kind of plus-size expert, but I do know what I
I've always been so envious of the people who don't have to
I am fully aware that I will never, ever, ever be one of these people. For the rest of my life I will have to watch what I eat and exercise. A lot. Exercise a lot. Like 4 or 5 times a week. Which is why training for various events is so good for me. It tricks me into thinking that my workouts have a bigger purpose beyond changing and maintaining my physical appearance. (Which they do, of course! It's simply much easier to know that there's an end goal and not just week after week of workouts - forever, and ever, and ever...)
The fact that I get to struggle with my weight is actually a blessing.
At least I am healthy enough to take on the challenge!
Anyways, I digress as the topic of this post is actually about what it's like to weigh 200+ lbs.
I have spent the majority of my adult life weighing more than 200lbs. Like most, I've managed to take off pounds once in awhile and bring that magic number below 200, but often its just below and I've not been able to maintain that. (Maintenance of weight loss is probably my number one fear, BTW. But that's a topic I'll explore another time!).
When I was 222lbs (my ACTUAL magic number. It seems my scale can quite comfortably stop and stay on this number!), I never felt "fat". I've always felt good in my skin because I've always exercised and eaten well. I've also always been surrounded by people who are crazy supportive and have always told me I look good.
But what is it really like to reach to the backs of the racks to find your size, if they even have sizes that go that large?
What is it really like to wake up every morning, starting with getting out of bed, and have almost every activity (putting on socks, tying shoes, picking up a loonie, getting into your vehicle...) cause exertion?
What is it really like to hold up your jeans and feel actual, genuine fear that they will not fit, or that you will have such a horrific muffin-top that your next step will be to find a top that will camouflage this?
What is it like?
It's kind of awful.
I say that I never felt fat, and I didn't. However, I was constantly reminded of how my weight was affecting every single aspect of my day-to-day life. Why should I be out of breath walking up seven steps? Why should I be out of breath climbing seven steps when I was in the midst of training for a half marathon!?
It feels awful to be walking with someone and catch a glimpse of your shadow and realize what a vast difference there is between the two of you.
It feels awful to try and "squeeze" past something or someone and realize that no amount of sucking-in will allow you through.
It feels awful to be at a hockey game and know that if your team scores a goal, you may or may not be able to stand up in a timely manner to cheer them on.
It feels awful to know that a standard hotel towel will not cover you up. That you will need to get dressed in the bathroom to avoid being seen with what seems like a postage-stamp sized towel attempting to cover your bits.
What I am trying to do is give a glimpse of what it's like to live inside a size 16 body. I cannot give a personal view from inside a size 18, or 20 and alternately, from a size 6 or 8. I also won't say that being a size 16 is the worst thing. It's not. It's just that living life in a smaller frame is easier and that the daily, mundane activities I used to struggle with, have now become quite easy. I have already started taking this for granted, so I have to consciously remind myself of the hard work and sweat that has gone into this journey.
I also know that weight loss and maintenance is something I will work at forever. I cannot slip for even one day. Because one day can turn into one month, and then six months, and before I can bat an eyelash, I'm reaching for the back of the rack again.
I am so incredibly proud of my successes and I am trying to own it and relish in the compliments, but I know that I'm rounding the bend towards the finish line and I cannot take my eyes off the prize. I must be more focused than ever and be mindful of the difficulty in losing the "last 10 pounds".
Do I wish I was one of those people who didn't have to be especially careful about what I eat? Hell yes!
Do I wish I didn't have to work out 4 or 5 times a week - intensely? Hell. To. The. Yes.
However, this is the hand I've been dealt and if eating well and exercising is wrong, then I don't want to be right. It feels good to be healthy and fit. And I know I'm laying the groundwork for my girls to follow in my footsteps.
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