I'm (f20) starting to see loose skin.
Petty, yes I know. In my head I know it's really about health. I know it's so I stop obsessing over food. But the little sad parts always seem to creep up and camp out in my brain. I feel like I've overcome a lot since I started losing weight.
Some context:
My peak weight was 278lbs in January.
Between January and March I got an infection that went into my brain (long story) and lost ten pounds. It was literally one of the worst experiences of my life; I had to quit my job, I couldn't go to classes, and I could hardly speak or eat because of the pain. But the moment the pain was under control I couldn't stop. It still hurt to eat but I binged and binged until all the weight was back. And suddenly, I realized. I wasn't just bingeing: that was how I NORMALLY ate. It was like seeing myself for the first time. Honestly it was so bizarre realizing that was how I lived.
So, long story short (too late) it's August and I'm 218 lbs, 60lbs down. Honestly, I almost can't believe how "easy" it's been. Literally just CICO, wham bam thank you ma'am you've lost weight. Crazy how I didn't think that would work two years ago.
Although I'm far from my goal (165lbs) it's mind-boggling that I'm over halfway there! For the first time, I've ordered some new clothes for myself as a treat (only now bc it's quarantine and student debt is a bitch).
Y'all. I could order the XXL or XL from the non-plus section!!! I still totally fit in the plus sections but being able to buy regular clothes was literally so emotional. I sat there with my little note pad of measurements and just cried at Target's sizing chart like an idiot. I used to worry if a torrid 3 would fit.
I'm far from demotivated, but part of losing weight really sucks. A lot of my friends struggle with their weight, so seeing the 'fat friend' lose weight has been weirdly alienating for me. My dad has changed my nickname from 'carbokid' to 'gettin skinny' (lovely guy, he also told me I'd never live to be thirty so I'm sorry to disappoint). And my sister loves the shit out of me but I know being the only one I can talk to about my progress grates on her.
But god the worst part is loose skin. I've already got it appearing everywhere. And stretch marks too, like rain dripping down the fleshy window of my body. Nothing deflates the self esteem better. I know it's SUPER vain but knowing I won't ever be 'normal' skinny is really disheartening. Both because I put myself here in the first place and because I just want to feel truly pretty for the first time.
So that's a downer. Hopefully, the next 55 will help shoo the little sad moments like this out of my brain.
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source https://www.reddit.com/r/loseit/comments/i4l7zw/sixty_pounds_is_bittersweet/
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