From January–July of 2012, I dropped most of the weight. I went from 240 to 190 lbs. From July to December, I dropped from 190-170 lbs. During those last twenty pounds, some of the most monumental events occurred in my life. I hung my head in worry everyday because I was slowly grinding to a plateau, and I was worried about all the things to come. The fascinating part was that I was so busy worrying that I wasn’t noticing the things around me as they started to shimmer and shine.
Now, that’s not to say I wasn’t fully in them or completely enjoying them, I’m just not sure I truly valued the fact that none of it was coincidence at all. Looking back, I can see, so clearly, the path that had been set out for me to follow last year, and I’m amazed by it.
In August, I was part of the wedding of one of my best friends. It seems so inadequate to say “part of a wedding” because over the course of those four days, I met some of the most brilliant people I’ve ever met. We knew each other four days, but they will be forever embedded in my life. (I also spent part of August traipsing around New York in a dress…fat girls understand the seriously world-titling wonder this was. Just me, a dress, and my thighs—and no chafing. Epic.)
I got home in September and moved into my first single girl apartment. I had never lived by myself before, and was excited and terrified all at once.
One Saturday in late September, I bought my first pair of regular mall store blue jeans. No Lane Bryant, No Torrid. Straight up Express size 12 skinny jeans. I cried. The next day, I went on two blind dates. (What?!) Half-way through breakfast with date #1, I wondered where my head had been when I turned my dating profile back on a few days before. The guy was nice, and we clicked online, but there was no chemistry between us and the conversation was strained. I wondered if I should even go on the second date that afternoon.
See, right before buying those Express pants on Saturday, I had been chatting with date #2. Friday I’d gotten a message from this motorcycle riding, gun-shooting, half Korean guy with a massive red beard. I was intrigued, yet wary. (It was a massive beard.) So, naturally, I made small-talk, and asked him where he’d like to travel. He said Egypt. I asked if he knew who Zahi Hawass was. He said, “He’s the Head of Egyptian Antiquities and a fan of wearing denim everything.”
I knew right then that we had to meet. And on Sunday, we did. We sat on a park bench and we talked for four hours. He walked me home, and I drove him back to his motorcycle, then we decided we weren’t done talking, and we went to dinner, too. I had the most amazing time.
And not for one second was I self-conscious about my looks or my weight.
Everything in my weight loss journey has astounded me. Things kept lining up and falling into place. When I was obese, I wasn’t ready to be make new friends so courageously. I wasn’t ready to be so stumblingly independent. I wasn’t ready to fall in love.
Getting rid of the weight, even the stumbling points, has been a journey that has strengthened me, prepared me, and pushed me harder than I’ve been pushed. I know now I can face so many things, that I’m ready for so many things, and that nothing in the last few years—in my entire life has been coincidence.
Tonight, instead of hanging my head down with worry about things yet to come, I’m taking a little time to get in touch with the silence within myself so that I can remember to be grateful for all the blessings in my life that I learn from everyday.