My first fitting was about a month and half ago. I had been looking forward to slipping into my dress again for six long months. It had arrived over the summer and hung in my closet, protected by a gauzy chocolate garment bag with cursive gold script. Every once in awhile, I'd unzip it and take a peak. Stand in front of it and drink in the sight. Imagine how I would look walking down the aisle toward the man I love. It was simple and elegant and I had never felt more beautiful than I did standing on the platform at the bridal salon, twirling around.
I didn't exactly slip into my dress that January afternoon after work. J, the sophisticated and utterly endearing gentleman completing my alterations, refused to zipper the dress all the way up. He was concerned it would rip. That's right, folks. There was no zippering up my wedding dress.
It only made sense that a dress I had fallen in love with a year ago, that I had been fitted and measured for before being diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, would no longer fit once I was pumping insulin and my cells were being fed.
The significant weight loss had been puzzling. I was eating much more than I'd ever eaten in my life and yet weighed less than I had during college, a time of significant restriction for me. I had survived on vegetables and precisely measured snacks during that time. Yet, I was somehow able to convince myself that I must not be remembering that time very well. I must have been eating more than I remembered. For how could I possibly be putting back as much food as I was now and yet be underweight? It didn't make sense.
Until I learned that I had Type 1 diabetes. And that the nutrients I was eating were not getting into my cells. I was indulging, yet my body was starving.
I'd be lying if I said it was anything less than extremely difficult gaining weight once I started taking insulin. I gained nearly ten pounds the weekend I was diagnosed. Eventually I learned what healthy portion sizes looked like - I had become so accustomed to eating so much food that I had to literally relearn how much a normal person should eat.
It's funny. That incident with J should have left me feeling...I don't know. Something. I had told people it had. But when I really reflected on it, I realized that I hadn't felt much of anything. Taking out my dress was just what had to be done. The price to pay for a healthy body. And I'm loving this healthy body. I stood and stared at it in my bathroom mirror the other night. Turned around, walked across my bedroom, entered the kitchen. Smiled at M and said, "You know, for the first time maybe ever, I really love my body." Love what it can do more than what numbers it can make the scale read.
Tomorrow's my second fitting. I could've tried to lose a few pounds, but I've elected to go in with some Spanx instead. To make this body I cherish work.