Though I have not yet reached my weight loss goal, a few months ago I passed an important threshold: I was no longer considered clinically “obese.” It is so easy to become complacent when you’re going through big changes, and I didn’t want to come so far only to stay focused on how far I had yet to go. Though there are actually innumerable things I don’t miss about being obese, there are eight specific ones I have been deeply aware of over the last few months.
1. Wearing plus-size clothes
There’s nothing like walking into a store and passing racks and racks of stylish, sassy clothes, until, at the back of the store (I think they assume we don’t want to be seen looking at the size 20s) you reach the plus size rack. Suddenly the clothes are no longer so stylish and not at all sassy. As with pregnant women, clothing companies seem to think that larger-sized women want to look like prissy little girls with high lace collars and empire waists. I mean, a larger woman wouldn’t want to look sexy, would she? Heaven forbid!
But buying clothes in sizes that end in X (1X, 2X, 3X) feels so…shameful. The stores only reinforce this by banishing us to the back of the store and limiting us to infantilized or tent-like clothing. The latest styles are never available in larger sizes and God forbid you want a pair of knee-high boots and happen to have voluptuous calves. (Unfortunately I still had that challenge when I was a size 3. I’m blessed with calves like tree-trunks.)
This situation has been getting better: There are more and more somewhat stylish clothes coming out in plus, mainly because the companies realized how much money they could be making. But we still have a long way to go. I mean, can’t we all be on the same rack? From small to large and beyond? Why must we get ghettoized? Can I get an amen, sisters?
2. My big fat embedded wedding ring
For years my wedding ring was embedded into my body. Literally. I gained weight in and around it, until it was indented into the flesh of my left ring finger. Not only could I not take it off, but it changed the actual structure of my digit. Sometimes I would lie in bed at night in a claustrophobic panic thinking about how that gold band was trapped on my finger. I had no desire to take my ring off permanently, I just wanted the option of removing it during a manicure, for instance, or when putting on hand cream – like a normal woman. I can take it off now, but I find I no longer want to. And it rattles around a bit, as the flesh is forever indented.