I remember when I refused to buy anything other than a size small. If I tried a small on it and it didn't fit I wouldn't even consider trying a medium. I would either buy it and wear it anyways, no matter how uncomfortable or I would use it as "motivation" to continue restricting in order to make it fit comfortably. I was devestarted when I bought my wedding dress in a size 8 instead of a 6 or 4.
I used to have panic attacks and meltdowns in dressing rooms. If the size I thought I should be didn't fit me perfectly then my day, week, month was ruined. It was never the clothes fault, it was always a problem with my body. More than that, the size that I wore was directly related to my worth. As I am sure you know, when your worth is hinged on something that naturally changes then you are going to be in trouble.
After I gave birth to Grace my body changed but not how I expected it to. I lost some weight and then gained some more. If you have read previous posts then you know I weigh about 80lbs more than I did before I got pregnant. Obviously, fitting into the clothes I wore before pregnancy isn't happening.
For the first few months post partum I struggled a lot with the idea of buying new clothes. I couldn't handle the idea of buying things that were much bigger than I was used to. I was still playiing the old numbers game, feeling that the size of my clothes said something about me other than what size I wore. And God forbid someone know that size...
A few weeks ago I finally got fed up enough with being uncomfortable and not having clothes that fit me properly. At the time I was still a little wrapped up in numbers but willing to at least give shopping a try. Having no idea what size I would actually wear I took my measurements and put them into some online thing that roughly caculates your size. I was shocked and devestated. I spent the day feeling horrible about myself and convinced that I would NEVER have clothes that fit because that size was unacceptable.
The next day I walked into Old Navy. I had zero expectations for myself. Maybe I would come out with some clothes or maybe I would have a meltdown in the dressing room or both. The first few things that I tried on did not fit but something amazing happened. Instead of bashing my body for not fitting into something, I declared that those pants just weren't made for me. It was the most relieving and freeing thought ever. My body wasn't wrong, I wasn't wrong, the pants were just wrong for me and that was ok.
Once I found a pair of pants that did fit me, the size didn't seem to matter. I stood in the dressing room repeating the size in my head and nothing. Instead I looked in the mirror smiling because it was the first time I was wearing jeans in probably 10 months and they FIT. No tears, no judgement and no promises to not eat for the rest of the day. They were just clothes, nothing more.
Since then I have come across a few other things as well. While trying on some clothes that a friend was getting rid of I didn't even bother looking at the sizes. I put it on and let myself decide, completly devoid of the number on the tag.
While adjusting to this new body is taking a lot of time and patience, I feel like I am finally able to let go of my obsession with numbers, especially weights and clothing sizes. I've detached them from my worth as well as let go of any special meaning they have held. They say nothing about me as a person. They are just numbers. I am still me, now with a comfortable wardrobe that allows me to go about my day, focusing on the things that I actually care about.