Dear Size 14 Jeans,

Wow so its been nearly three years since we last met! When I exchanged a getting-looser pair of dark-blue denim bootlegs (my ‘go-to’ date jeans) for long chatty dinners and red wine with Science Guy. And who wants to go for an early morning run when there is lovely spoonage going on in a warm bed? So yeah, I threw myself into us and put myself on hold. As is my pattern. And while there are probably deep-seeded reasons of self-worth around this, mostly I just really hate exercise and love eating: any excuse will do.

I did notice that things were getting tighter and uncomfortable, but admitting this was an issue out loud took me a while. Because this relationship was different: emotionally healthy, honest, loving and I didn’t want to be the crazy, fat bird that was always on a diet. In case I ruined everything. Especially as Science Guy just started running regularly, which coupled with his metabolism and absolutely no food issues, meant his tiny podge was gone in weeks. This made me hate him just a little bit.

But there is a tipping point. And 18 kilos ago, it just wasn’t ok to be indifferent to my body a day longer. The prospect of fitting back into you seemed like a pipe-dream and in the end I just had to let that be true. Otherwise it felt too much. You were at least a year away. If I made this a real focus. And my body somehow stopped being a complete bastard to me.

That was 8 months ago. Eight months of keeping the freakin food diary that I just want to set on fire with the power of my mind, but when I got all smart-arse and thought it wasn’t worth the hassle, I stopped being conscious of what I was eating and the scales crept up. Eight months of trying to fit exercise in where I can. And this has been haphazard and inconsistent but I’ve found that 10 hours of sweating a month is actually pretty doable. Eight months of thinking about my body, of studying, understanding, listening to myself. I still ask myself if I am actually hungry, several times a day. Mostly I am bored, stressed, procrastinating, avoiding: I am actually hungry a few times a day, every three-four hours: LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!

And so here I sit: eight months on, three stone gone, wearing you: Size 14 jeans. You represent normalcy, averageness. I am neither too fat nor too thin when I am wearing you. You are the tangibleness of this whole process.

Its nice to see you again. On my arse. And to be able to walk and breathe and not feel like my internal organs may at any moment, burst through the button fly, creating an uncontrolled and potentially lethal, ricocheting catapult.

Thanks for waiting for me.

Love,
Sas x

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