Six years ago I was a size 12. A tight size 12. I was teetering on moving up to a 14. But I was determined not to go there.
Still, I didn't know quite what to do. I had been thin my whole life until recently, and I had no idea how to change things.
Then I went on a cruise. And when I got home and got the pictures back, I was shocked at how fat I looked.
It's funny how you can delude yourself about how you look in the mirror every single day. But you can't escape the cold, hard reality of a photograph.
So I went on my first diet. And I lost 18 lbs. And I was a size 8.
So I took all my size 12 clothes and packed them into boxes and put them in storage. Just in case.
Then I bounced back and forth between an 8 and a 10 for the next four years.
I went on another diet and got back to a small 8 with a brief dip to a 6 that lasted a couple of months.
I never was a size 12 again. Not even after my two kids.
But I hung onto those 12's. Just in case.
Now I am a size 6 again. And with any luck, I will lose another 5 lbs.
(I don't know what size I'll be then because my wide hips have pretty much always prevented me from being any smaller size. It'll probably just come off my boobs.)
So I'm ready to give up my size 12's for good.
And it feels right.
It's sad to think of all the money I've spent on those clothes that I will be pretty much throwing away.
But it's more of a happy thing than a sad thing.
I'm ready to say goodbye to 12, forever.
(I might keep my size 10's, though. Just in case.)