And yet another post related to weight loss...

Life in the 'Burg is probably somewhat Mayberry-esk. Local people, local shops, local life filled with local chatter. And while we love the Mayberry, we don't love the lack of retail. And by we, I, of course, mean me. There is literally no where to shop in this town. We have one Maurice's that carries, on average, one size of each shirt, pants, skirt, or sweater. And we have our Fred Meyers- which is a life saver on late Thursday afternoons for baby shower going women who've forgotten to pick something up while visiting a larger city offering more retail options. But I digress. There is also the Goodwill, but in a farming/poor college student community such as this, you can guess how many have picked over the limited selections there. So as we trekked over mountains and hills to Grandma and Grandpa's for our Thanksgiving feast, I prepared mentally to shop. Till I dropped.

I'm not a huge fan of crowds and really hate Black Friday, but seeing as how it was the only day I had available to indulge myself in retail glory, I braved the crowded mall and drug my shopping-hating mother along with me for the trip. A girl's gotta have back up for a spree like I wanted to have. We bobbed and weaved through the crowded mall and searched high and low for things befitting a mostly nonexistent wardrobe. Stacy and Clinton sat like little personal stylists while I browsed every rack in Macys and hunted through rows and rows of denim in JCPenneys. We walked past Lane Bryant and I paused to bid a fond adieu to all that great style in sizes for people who couldn't get it at a 'regular' store. I thought of all the nice people I've chatted with over sales counters in various Lane Bryant stores. Some of the best customer service I've ever had. I'll miss that.

And then I fell. Not literally fell. But I fell back into the Gap. Glory of glories. It was my first time in there in 6 years. This is were half my high school wardrobe was purchased with money earned with my own blood, sweat and tears. This place was were I knew my Daddy loved me (okay, of course I knew before that incident I just linked to, but I've gotta hype up the drama here so you get the momentous-ness of the event). I actually tried stuff on- not the $75 jeans, because a mother of 2 in a single income household has gotta have her limits, but other stuff. I touched the stacks of knitted wool. I oohed and aahhed over the colorful, striped, 'perfect for Christmas gifts' sweaters stacked neatly on that standard white table in the center of all the Gap-i-ness. I fit into these clothes again. Thank the heavens! My world is back in its correct orbit! And then I walked out with. . . nothing. Which was actually quite liberating in and of itself. I could walk into the Gap and tell that retail giant that they didn't have anything this girl with cash burning a hole her pocket could want. Maybe next time.

Mom (did I mention she really hates shopping?) and I were still going strong, still out-striding all the other bargain hunters. We walked into the next store and I fell in love. Until that day, that moment, I'd never been to an Ann Taylor Loft. Good gravy that store is awesome. I tried on a sweater, opened the door to show Mom (who still hates shopping, by the way) and said, "I've gotta have this sweater." Deep purple, feminine. Love it! And the $6 shirt I scored off the clearance rack was also a little gem.

I went home after spending a few hundred dollars feeling like a million bucks. And I'm still floating on that high every time I slip into one of my new articles. I forgot how much I like shopping. Or maybe this was the first time I did actually like shopping. I can tell you that this is honestly the first time I've liked my body. Sure, I've got a lower tummy that just won't flatten and thighs that will always be more thunderous than thin. Sure, Heidi Klum will always look better than me walking down a runway in nothing but her unmentionables and some fancy wings even after she's had two kids just like me. And maybe I'll never get catcalled by randy men cruising down the street while I chug up a hill with my stroller filled with children, but I think I actually like myself enough not to care about those things.

When I weighed this weight 6 or 7 years ago, I hated my body. When I was 25 pounds lighter than this 7 or 8 years ago, I still didn't even like my body. I was so busy comparing myself to others, so busy wishing I could buy a smaller size (probably at the Gap) that I took for granted that I actually looked good. I didn't listen when my then boyfriend/fiance/soon-to-be husband told me I was beautiful. Now, I not only believe it, but you might actually hear those words come out of my mouth as I gaze at myself in the mirror (usually fully clothed, still look like I've definitely had two kids if I'm not clothed and that just ain't pretty). I catch myself staring at my toned calves and love them! People, I love my calves! I love them not only because they look good, but because I did that. Those muscles, I made them with my sweat and determination.

My body may not be perfect. You may always be skinnier than me, but I look dang good. And that's okay with me.

So, now you know I'm in love with my calves and to honor everyone who likes themselves just as they are, I really wanna know, what do you love on that hot body of yours? Eyes, lips, arms, toosh??? What is your favorite feature on you? This means I'd like you to comment, because blogging is nothing if not narcissistic and I wanna know that someone, somewhere actually read my entire post.

And I know you all want a picture. Can't you just wait for 8 more pounds? Seriously though, our computer is dead. Dead dead. And we're in the process of having some highly skilled professionals rescue the data on our old hard drive. I need that data. I can't have an after picture without a before. Hang tight. Pictures are coming to the blogosphere soon!

And can I just say that everyone needs a blog just so they can feel the love that I felt when I read all your comments. Seriously, your congrats to me on this monumental triumph mean more than these words I'm typing can say. I appreciate the support and encouragement from everyone, those who've never seen me heavy, those who've never seen me thin, those who've never seen me at all, and especially those who've been there through the whole thing.