This morning, I had some time to kill before a class I teach two days a week. So I went to Wal Mart, which is right around the corner from the school. My clothes (size 12′s) have gotten loose, so I thought it’d be fun to see if I could wear a 10 yet.
Now, understand this. I never imagined I’d even reach a 10. I figured when I reached my goal weight (which as of this morning is still 28 pounds away) I’d probably be in about a 12. When I was in a size 24, a 12 was as far into the hazy horizon as I could possibly see.
So I was pretty excited to think I might be down to a 10. Except that I’m not. No, when I put those 10′s on this morning, they were too big!
In a daze, I went back and got the same thing in – no kidding – a size 8. I figured, well, if I can squeeze into it it’ll be really tight and won’t look good.
They fit. They actually fit. I am actually a size 8. Can you tell I’m still in shock?
I had tried on 2 different skirts in different styles, both fit perfectly. No pulled seams or anything. Perfectly comfortable. When I came out of the dressing room I was still in a bit of a haze, so I wandered around a bit more. I tried on 3 different jackets (like dress jackets, not jackets for when it’s cold) in size 8 and they all fit. Even over the heavy shirt I was wearing.
I called my Mom (yeah, I know that’s risky. She’s not always the most encouraging) and asked her if she could remember when as a child I ever wore a size 8. She couldn’t. Maybe, she thought, third grade. The earliest I remember is 14′s and 16′s in 7th and 8th grade.
So there ya have it. We’re officially in uncharted territory. Now I have no idea where, when I reach that goal of 145 (which will give me a BMI of “normal”) I’ll be. What size will that be? A 6? That just cannot be. Can it?