Tonight (or this afternoon, rather, because we're old and too tired for late nights), we're cashing in. We're going to do some shopping that does't involve toys, see a movie with an R rating, and eat steak without panicking about paying for steak for four. Ah, bliss!
I dressed up for my husband (and for me). I so love this man, it's unreal. We will hit 11 years this April, and I not only am just as giddy as the day we married, but I love him even more every year.
Long boot cut jeans from Lane Bryant (current style unavailable), and the Caycee Twist Top from Kiyonna (although this color isn't currently available). Plus a statement necklace and neutral wedge boots. When we go outside, instead of a jacket (it's hitting 60+ today!), I'm to wearing this nice bulky Lane Bryant sweater (no longer available).
More importantly? I am just damned happy. Seriously, I've got a good life. I have a great job, a loving family, amazing friends, and I know life is good.
Like I've said before, I am currently losing weight. It seems to be taking hold this time, and I'm admittedly happy about that. I've lost just around 30 pounds, although I have a heckuva long way to go yet.
But you know why I'm happy about that? Because my knee is hurting less, my back is hurting less, my fibromyalgia is already feeling a bit better. And the promise of less daily pain is moving closer from it's place in the far-off horizon. That's making so happy I could cry.
What I realized this weekend is, 95% of why I'm happy is not related to "because I'll look better." I will have access to a better variety of clothes, and that's awesome, but I'm not really worried about a smaller waist, small hips, less puffy face, nothing serious along those lines. As a matter of fact, I'm even slightly (although not significantly) worried about the weight loss from that standpoint. For example, without weight puffing my face out am I going to get jowly? Are my 43-years' worth of wrinkles finally going to really show?
I don't know if it's because I've finally reached a level of maturity where the vanity doesn't matter (which is doubtful, because come on, I started a fashion blog, I've obviously got some vanity going on) or what. But something has changed in the last couple of years, and apparently solidified in the last couple of months. I went from "I'm overweight, but still pretty" to "I'm pretty." Period.
And I feel pretty not even because of my looks (although thanks to my parents, I really had great genes to work with), but because I find something great and to be grateful for in my life every day; every day gives me hope, gives me confidence, makes me want to be a better person. I know I have flaws and/or eccentricities in both my body and my personality that I can embrace and love and work with.
If this weight loss turns out to be a false start, that's totally okay. I'll be disappointed because even this simple shave off the top of the pain levels has been tremendous, but... I will be okay. I love myself. Possibly for the first time in my life, I really, truly love who and what I am (not in a selfish, narcissistic way, I don't believe people like that truly "love" themselves, but that's another topic).
This doesn't mean that the daily grind never gets me down. It can. But it never means that above it all, I'm not happy. I am. Sometimes I'm just also tired and grumpy, or I'm down and need something to cling to so I can remember the "happy." And I never, ever, unlike in my misinformed youth, think that "If only I were thin, this would be easier." Because I know it wouldn't be.
I've been thin before. I was so thin that when I'd lie down, I felt like my shoulder blades were cutting through my skin. It didn't make me even the tiniest bit less insecure, less anxious, less scared, or more content. So if "thin" doesn't make it better, "fat" certainly doesn't make it worse.
And now, enough of this. I love you all, but I love my husband more. So ciao now, I'm going on my date. :-)
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