As someone who has spent the majority of my life overweight, I have often thought, "One day I'll lose the weight and everything will be perfect." I imagined that the excess weight was to blame for a multitude of problems in my life--everything from my perpetually unruly hair to my knack for loudly saying the wrong thing in every single social situation. No joke, I emphatically told a comedian that I did not find him funny a few weeks ago. (I blame my mother for this trait. At parties, she is known for loudly proclaiming that the music is horrible [haarable--pronounced in her Long Island/ Boston accent]).
I am beginning to realize that losing weight is like shedding the blanket that obscures you from the world. It exposes your features and shows your insecurities. You can no longer harbor the illusion that underneath all the bulk, you are a fairy princess. Once you've shed the weight, you can no longer run home after a bad day and numb your pain with macaroni and cheese and ice cream. This is fundamentally a good thing. It brings you closer to people. It connects you to the world. At the same time, it makes you more vulnerable. People can decide they don't like you when you put yourself out there. People can decide you're not cool enough, pretty enough, [insert feature here] enough. And you can't think anymore, well I'll show them when I lose weight and walk up to them, looking like a supermodel.
Because all of a sudden you realize that looking like a supermodel is not in your cards. Because, drum roll please, there are no more huge transformations in your future. Yes, you may lose 10-15 more pounds and that will be fantastic, but you don't have another 80 pounds to go. You are essentially at a normal weight. People will still recognize you when you get to goal. And that's okay. In fact, it's better than okay.
I'm starting to realize that weight loss fairy tales never come true. But perhaps the reality is better. I certainly hope so.