I stopped by my best buddy Beca’s Hayward house on Saturday. We had not seen each other since the beginning of the summer. After a wonderful long hug, she turned to me and said “Who are you?”
Taken aback, I had not ready quip for her.
“No, who are you?” She grabbed my hand and pulled me to her computer. “Look.” She popped up a picture of me, her, and her sister Ruby. “That is you.” She then pointed at me. “This is a lot less of you.”
I smiled. "Forty-one pounds less."
Friday a similar reaction came from Paul’s CAT team, http://www.americandaibetestherapy.com./ We have been going to the center for eight weeks. They have seen me every Friday but this day everyone congratulated me on the way I looked.
Frankly, I don’t see the difference. Yes, I am smaller. One roll of belly-fat has melted away, leaving two lesser heaps to shrink. My wrists and ankles are boney. Today, I moved my bra hook over one notch which means I’ve lost a half to one full inch around my rib cage. So I know I am shrinking but I don’t see the change.
My great-grandmother, Flossie Mapes, said that she got up in the morning and looked in the mirror and wondered, “Who is that old woman staring back at me?” She told my mother who later told me that she felt inside as a young woman and could not identify with that aging image. Flossie passed away at the age of ninety-four—still vibrant, God-loving, and beautiful.
I don’t think that I have seen myself as an obese woman for years. Probably that is why seeing my pictures shock me. The image in the mirror now closely aligns with who I think I am—sans the grey hair and crow’s feet. So here is the comparison from July 7th to Nov 2nd. What do you think?