I don't remember going through this when I was younger. Back when I was in Jr. High, I remember when I got my first pair of jeans. Lee size 16. In High School, I was determined to make the size smaller. I went from 14 in sophmore year, battling the freshmen 15; 13 in junior and finally 11 in senior.
I gained weight. A lot actually. I would eat what my exboyfriend would eat. I ate to comfort myself during our breakup. I went back to size 16. I would drop a couple of pounds now and then, but never go back to my High School clothes.
Last summer, I was at my sister's house. They took me shopping. God bless my sisters, they do the dirty work and I only have to go in and out of the fitting room. There's when it hit me. Size 18W. That's a politically correct way to say size 20.
I was 25 and size 20. I was at my fattest. I came back home determined to become what I was 10 years ago. I had plenty of excuses not to start a formal wieght loss plan. Work gave me no time to excercise nor to have a decent meal.
My pride got hurt when a friend's mom suggested I should actually lose weight. After the Christmas festivities I promised I would be at least size 14 for my birthday. My 27th birthday. Lex and I were looking at her birthday pics when we sat down and decided to finally do it.
Today, Lex is a size 12/13 and I have entered that mysterious world of odd numbered sizes. Yes, size 16 is too big and size 14 is a bit snug . . . size 15 is just right.
And its only September.