There’s a post somewhere in my drafts folder titled “xs.” That’s about buying a size small red sundress only to find that it was too big. Somewhere in the same file, I started writing another post about meeting my goal weight, maintaining that for 6 weeks (actually 7), and at the end of that achieving Lifetime membership through Weight Watchers. There’s a third about playing “pretty, pretty princess” with Lori.

Needless to say, I’ve been having some issues writing about this and working out my thoughts. Here’s my attempt.

***

On Saturday, Lori and I attended a friend’s birthday party. I left my apartment in a simple brown dress and sandals, but once at home realized I had to change. I forgot about the black and white theme. Fortunately, my sister didn’t mind opening up her closet to me. She offered up a few black and white outfits.

I tried them on, but not without first looking at the tags and thinking, this won’t fit. Last year, there was a 1 before the 4 and the letter after the X was not S. But everything I tried on fit just fine, just as it had when I tried on her pants right after Christmas. I settled on the outfit above out of convenience, laziness and because the other outfits made me feel a bit naked.

Lori then offered up some shoes choices. After settling on leopard print stilettos, I went with these peep-toe sandals. She did my makeup, or what we call playing “pretty, pretty princess.” Sometimes she does my hair too, but we were already running late.

We snapped a few photos, standard practice for when I actually get all dolled up with makeup. Plus, I wanted an “after” picture, even if I think they’re deceptive.

And then we left to the party.

***

I keep looking at the photo. Some of it is vanity. I love the way I look. I’ve never claimed to be modest. (See: a photo I made Sean take while in NY last week.)

Some of it is disbelief that the woman in the photo is me and not Lori, my little sister. In the past 15 years, I’d become accustomed to seeing myself as the brainy, overweight sister. Lori was the smart, slender, athletic sister. She still is.

I’m the one who changed, and I’m still getting used to it.

01.21.09 | 07.04.09 | 12.31.09

I don’t like before and after photos. They’re misleading. And yet, here I go making my own of sorts. Before*, middle, and end… of the year, definitely not the end of my efforts to improve myself and my health.

In fact, I can’t see myself stopping any of the new good habits I’ve learned and honed over the year. They feel like second nature. Even when I feel lazy, I know that cooking my own food will be healthier and will save me money (a lot more important to me these days). I crave fresh fruit and vegetables. When I slack off on running or going to the gym, I miss the runner’s high and the good feelings I get after getting my heart rate up and breaking a sweat. I like cooking and my new, awesome apron. I don’t even mind the cleanup, I like washing dishes.

It’s the fact that these habits feel like part of me now that I know I will keep moving forward, accomplishing new health and fitness goals.

I have a number in my head. It’s arbitrary. I’m not there yet. I don’t know if I even really want to get there. A few months ago, I told myself I’d stop when I could fit in to my sister’s pants. I tried on some new slacks she got as a Christmas present. They fit fine, if long. Once she gets them tailored (we’re the same height), I know I’ll be borrowing them.

So, now what? I’ll get down to the arbitrary number just because I know I can. If you know me and my mini obsessions, you can probably guess what it is. I’ll maintain that and add some new fitness goals.

*Rather, a week in to my weight loss efforts

“You’re doing great,” the receptionist said as she recorded my weight and pasted the sticker recording my progress for that week in my pocket guide.

“Thanks,” I said and smiled.

“You’re doing so great. Do you recognize yourself?”

I paused, unsure of what she was asking and how to respond.

“Yeah,” I said tentatively, but wasn’t sure.

I slipped my shoes back on, grabbed my purse and took a seat. As I thought about the receptionists question some more, I realized she asked a different question. At first, I heard, “do you recognize your weight loss progress with small rewards?” Then I reinterpreted it as, “do you recognize the changes in habits — both eating and exercise — since January?”

That was not her question. She asked, “do you recognize yourself… when you look in the mirror?”

“Yes,” I thought to myself. Of course. When I see my face, I still look like Cindy. I don’t even feel that I look much different unless I look at photos. And even then, I see more differences in my clearer skin complexion, or the great tan I had over the summer. Unlike my padrino José, I don’t think my nose looks more prominent or that my face is more “afilada.”

Other people think differently. A few weeks ago, Papá Chepe told me he confused me for my sister, Lori, when he first saw me. Other family members say I look more like my mom (as a 20-year old bride) or cousin Sandy.

Part of me takes the comments as a compliment, another indicator of my progress. But there’s a nagging critic that says, “they don’t recognize you without all the extra weight, that’s why they compare you to your thinner sister, cousin and mom. They’re like the bouncer who didn’t believe you were the girl on your driver’s license.”

I’m still me. I know I am.

In the middle of the summer, I attended a birthday party for my cousin’s daughter. It was the first time in a while I had seen a lot of my cousins and tíos/tías. They noticed the weight loss and complimented me, asked questions and made some off-color jokes (“are you anorexic?”). As I’ve mentioned before, I’m ambivalent about the comments. It’s nice to see that others recognize my efforts, but I’m still uncomfortable the attention to my body when the comments come from men or are mentioned loudly in a group.

One comment still resonates a few months later.

As I was making the rounds and saying goodbye to my family, my uncle pulled me close.

“You look great, mija. But no more… don’t lose anymore.”

I didn’t say anything as I did the quick calculations of how much I still needed to reach my goal, or even be within the healthy weight range for my height.

“Um, thanks tío,” I said softly and then continued on to say goodbye to my other tíos and cousins.

A few months later, my uncles words still ring in my head, especially as I’m getting closer to the number I arbitrarily set for my goal weight and I’m not sure how I’ll feel once I’m there. I’m also tired of having to buy new clothes, especially with the cooler temperatures.

Maybe I should set a different goal: being able to share clothes with my sister. (My mom already passed down a bunch of skirts.)

Progress photos after the jump.
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