This is not my shirt
I got dressed quickly this morning and grabbed a t-shirt out of a basket of clean laundry. I threw it on, glanced at the mirror and realized it’s my 14-year-old son’s shirt. He’s small for his age.
I’m well aware of how much I’ve lost, and how many sizes I’ve dropped. I thought I was finally emerging from the weird body dysmorphia that comes with drastic weight loss. But if you’d asked me yesterday if I could wear any of his clothes, I would have laughed and said of course not. Putting it on this morning threw the reality of my weight loss into sharp focus. I remember finding this shirt at the thrift store and wishing it was my size. Well, I’m claiming it now.
I’m a wedding photographer, so I’ll spend the next several months working long, hot days on my feet every weekend. My job involves crouching, climbing and running with camera gear strapped to my body. I walk an average of 5 miles at full-day weddings. Last year, I finished every wedding exhausted to the bone, sore and feeling old. I cannot wait to find out what a 10-hour wedding day feels like without that 70+ pounds of extra weight.