i haven’t been on a scale since right after thanksgiving – i’m weight-restored enough that i’m getting my period regularly (TMI? TMI…) so i’m quite unconcerned and uninterested in my weight from this point forth.
so while i don’t know my weight, what i do know is that i once again need to unbutton my jeans to get them on and off. for the first time since may.
i also know, logically, that this is the normal way of things. jeans have buttons and zippers because one is supposed to undo them en route to taking said jeans on and off. thus, having to once again unzip my jeans to get them over my hips does not mean i got fat. it means i got normal.
i also know that, weight not withstanding, i am the strongest i have ever been. bum knee and all. my squat technique has improved tenfold and my depth is way better; i squat two triples at 115# today, ATG, and they felt great. i pulled three singles at 155# when i deadlifted monday. i can do pull-ups, folks. unassisted, cool-kid pull-ups.
plus i’m running well, running strong, running healthy. i eat well and often and mindfully. i feel good. some days, i feel great.
so why does it matter that i’m no longer waif-like? why does it still, despite my laundry list of reasons i love what my body is doing right now, bother me that i no longer need to wear a belt to keep my pants from falling off my hip bones? why does it seem so damn tragic that i have to unbutton my jeans?
recovery is a process. it’s long, and sometimes it’s lifelong. running, lifting, and yoga have all made me appreciate my body in so many ways. i’m strong. i’m growing, physically and mentally and emotionally. i’m getting there – wherever “there” may be.