I met another body part last night whilst I was trying on new clothes in the family bathroom. My shoulderblades which had previously been languishing under layers of fat and misery made their first bony appearance to a chorus of trumpets and a choir of angels (this may be an exaggeration). This can only mean I really am starting to shrug off my fat suit, perhaps I’ve reduced it down to a fat pair of trousers (as I still have quite an arse on me) or maybe a chubby suit (if the fat is averaged out over my entire body). I no longer feel like I’m wearing one of those comedy sumo suits which I suppose is a bonus given that summer is looming. I’m also rocking my upper arms in short sleeves and thinking so what if they’re a bit baggy things could be worse, they could still be fat; I could be struggling to lose any weight at all; I could still be miserable and hiding away, hating my body and in turn hating my soul. I’m none of those things and I’m bloody happy about it!
I bought a bookcase yesterday and had great fun trying to wrestle the damned thing out to my car, although I was flattered when the man who sold it to me was flirting and offered to help me carry it, I was also secretly a bit offended as pre-op nobody ever offered and so I refused his help on the grounds of him being another image obsessed wanker. I realise this may seem like a sweeping generalisation but it felt right at the time. So anyway, there I was, being a weak girlie sook struggling to lump this massive weight out to the car park when I glanced down at the weight on the side of the box (17kg) and it hit me, I used to have several of these massive weights strapped to my body that I was lugging around on a daily basis! It’s no wonder I was knackered and grumpy the whole time.