It feels so good to wear my medium shirts again. Not my Medium shirts. I do have one of those. But my medium (M) shirts. Actually, my boyfriend wears my Medium shirt. It shrunk a bit in the laundry so it fits him. He’s a small (S). When we met, we were both medium. Then he went and did some manual labor and thinned out, and I ate a lot. So he is a small now and I am a large (L). Everything used to fit both of us. Now nothing fits either of us.
I started working out again after I turned 44 on 2/26. I was in the best shape of my life 2 decades ago when I was 25. But 19 years later, I was in the worst. Thanks to 1 whole pizza and 3 glasses of bourbon on Friday nights during Covid and 7 days a week of sedentary snacking and minimal motion. I am closer to 50 than I am to 35 now, so it was time to get serious. This could all go 1 of 2 ways, and 10 years from now I’d rather look 44 than 62 — not how I looked when I turned 44, but how I look now on 4/29, now that I fit into my medium (M) shirts again.
Getting back to the gym was difficult. After the hellish last two years, I found it hard to care. Sweating was tough. Why is this so impossible? My breathing was labored. The weights were heavy. All of the exercises — the whole exercise felt punishing. How would I do this? When? The schedule would have to be rigid to work. It would have to be demanding. But I prefer things that are easy. Don’t we all like life without trouble? Why can’t fitting into your clothes be effortless? These are simple questions with complicated answers.
Little by little it started to work. Small steps. Tiny actions. Atomic habits. I did my best to move the needle a hair each day. Mini goals. Minute wins. Bits. Smaller bites. And fewer bites. They started to add up. My waist got thinner. My arms got a little bigger. A lot of water. Considerable effort. Massive change? Not yet. But larger and larger strides. Fitting into my medium shirts is a huge confidence builder. No small feat. Not being large is big.
It feels so good to wear my medium shirts again. My boyfriend wears a small. When we met, we were both medium. Then he went and did some manual labor and thinned out, and I ate a lot. Then I did some weight-lifting and running and squats and dead-lifts and walking up a hill inside of a building. I swam in a pool in a basement, and I ran on a moving platform that keeps you standing still. And I danced and did yoga as much as I could bear it. I fucking love dancing. I fucking hate yoga. I stretched and bounced and jumped and knelt and reached and wiggled and crawled and curled. Everything fits again. But now I want all new clothes.