Today I got pissed off. It was the kind of anger that leads to action. The healthy anger, when boundaries have been crossed or you have been wronged in some way. I am not used to this and I will admit that it freaked me out a little but it lead me to do something that really needed to get done.
My "trusty black pants" and I have been through a lot together, 12 years to be exact. They were worn to every high school sports banquet, all of my college sororities induction and initiation ceremonies, every job interview I have EVER had and pretty frequently in my last year of working. Anytime I needed something professional to wear, I could always count on them, which is where they earned the "trusty" part of their name.
The last time I wore these oh so trusty pants was the day that I ended up in the hospital after practically passing out of work.(oh the irony) Shortly after this was when I put my life on hold and admitted myself into treatment. Since then they have hung quietly in the back of my closet.
These pants won't even come close to buttoning anymore. I could have saved myself some tears if I would have gotten rid of them weeks ago, but I don't think it would have been as monumental as it was today.
The tears faded quickly, as did the sadness. Then came the rage and boy was I angry.
Angry for all of the years that I tried to make my body smaller in order to fit our cultures ridiculous standard of beauty. Angry for believing all of the lies about how much happier I would be if I just lost weight. Angry for all of the time I spent standing in dressing rooms in tears because of the number on the tag. Angry for all of the times I missed out on something important because I felt like I was too fat to go. Angry for all of the time that I wore clothes that were uncomfortable because I couldn't bring myself to go up a size. Angry that I ever allowed my worth and value to get wrapped up in sizes and weights. Angry for all of the time I have lost because of my eating disorder.
Getting rid of these pants today wasn't nearly as difficult as I had imagined. It was hard but when I realized how much they were holding me back it became a no brainer. As I handed them over to the lady at Goodwill, I didn't want to cry. I wanted to celebrate. Celebrate my body, my recovery and my life. Although this was a huge moment, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. There is no longer any room in my life for things that hold me back or make me feel bad about myself. I refuse to allow anyone to tell me that that size of my body is wrong or that my weight is too much. And more importantly I refuse to tell myself that. I have too much to live for in order to allow that to take up any more space in my life.
I know that there are still many steps along the journey to accepting and loving my body but I know that it's not anything I can't handle. Today marked a huge victory, as well as paving the road for many more to occur. As the anger starts to subside I can't help but smile and think about how amazing this feels. I no longer need to put so much trust and meaning into a pair of pants. Clothes are meant to be worn but aren't meant to define us.