I'm cracking up at all the depression weight loss envy confessions coming from my side of the depression fence. (That'd be the gains it side.)
I've taken ADs that made me totally unable to eat. (Thanks, Prozac.) I've taken ADs that made me gain MAJOR weight. (Thanks, Celexa.)
They both suck. I have no idea what my natural weight would be now, because it all depends on the drugs. I threw out my hyper-thin clothes when I went off Prozac, and I threw out my hyper-fat clothes when I went off Remeron, and now I need my hyper-fat clothes again.
HATE THIS ROLLERCOASTER.
vw, it's okay, I just felt like I was harshing your buzz. And you know I hate that.
I threw out my hyper-thin clothes when I went off Prozac, and I threw out my hyper-fat clothes when I went off Remeron, and now I need my hyper-fat clothes again
I read somewhere that Nia Vardalos just keeps clothing in different sizes around. She has three different wardrobes.
I can never bear to do that -- at any size I am, I have very strong feelings about the clothes that don't fit, whether they're too big or too small.
But I should -- even though I'm the same weight whether I exercise or not these days, I'm not the same size. And the last thing I want to do when injured is buy new clothes.
Maybe I'll never get injured again. Or depressed, or have a metabolic shift. Or get more muscular.
I can't throw out my 2-sizes-smaller clothes, because I refuse to believe I'll be this fat the rest of my life. It doesn't matter that a lot of those clothes are out of style now, or just plain not *my* style anymore. If I get rid of them, it's like accepting that I have to look like this forever.
Steph, I'm with you. Only they're more like 4 sizes smaller, so I think it's stretching the limits of possibility a little and... sigh. Those daisy dukes were cute! And I only wore them like twice!
Only they're more like 4 sizes smaller
I can't picture you 4 sizes smaller -- you'd be, like, a -2! You'd disappear!
Actually, I'm four sizes larger than the last time you saw me.
Timelies. I just had shrimp ramen noodles for lunch and I'm having flashbacks to college. Yum.
If I get rid of them, it's like accepting that I have to look like this forever.
When we moved last summer, I was ruthless. I found stuff up the attic that I'd bought that had *never* fit me. Stuff that was three sizes too small. And some stuff, encouragingly, that was too big. I gave away or threw out everything that didn't fit me *right now*, and it felt so good. My closet finally feels like a place I can walk into without a whole daily drama of daydreaming, self-recrimination, and try-on sessions that lead to tears. It was hard to do, but it feels good right now. And my point, before I forgot it, was that everything I put on now looks halfway decent on me because it fits comfortably, so it doesn't matter what size I am, if you know what I mean.
I'm totally a comfort eater, too. If I'm depressed, there's food in my mouth, whenever there's not a cigarette in it.
Actually, I'm four sizes larger than the last time you saw me.
(Or possibly three. Or six. It depends -- is 10 to 12 two sizes or one?)
