Swivel hips.

So I put on my favorite jeans today. The ones I got from Old Navy at the beginning of the semester. When I got them, they fit perfectly. In fact, I can remember thinking as I inched my rear into them, Gosh I better not put on any weight.
Then on Thanksgiving day (prepare yourself because this is NOT normal) I weighed myself after eating TWO Thanksgiving meals and the scale said I weighed seven pounds less than I have for the last two years.
I know, some of you women out there want to shoot me right now. I too was shocked but then secretly happy because losing weight is very arguably never a bad thing (unless you are sick or anorexic).
And you're thinking, well, was it the scale? Was it off?
No.
After seeing the numbers, I remembered the last time I looked at my body in the mirrors at kickboxing I had thought, Goodness I look thin--and it wasn't really a good thin. It was a, oh-there-are-your-chest-bones thin. Not exactly sexy. But I thought it was maybe just the mirrors.
And then of course the clothes. If there is no spandex in my pants or shirts, they hang on my body, lower on the hips, major saggage in the rear. Again, not exactly sexy.
But, like the typical American woman and post anorexic that I am, I was mostly happy about all this. The only downer was that now I was concerned about my weight, because of course I didn't want to put that weight back on after I lost it so effortlessly. So I have been thinking a little before I eat my extremely processed white bread bagel and deliciously whipped cream cheese. Just thinking. Not exactly changing anything. Just thinking. And I'll tell you what, one of my most annoying things in life is thinking about food on a "this has the potential to make me fat" level.
It took me years to learn how to eat and enjoy food and reverting back to "anything that is not fruit, water, or gum is bad" mentality is not where I want to go.
All of this came to a very sharp point today when, like I said, I put on those favorite jeans, which now hang on my hips and sag in the rear. I also put on my most favorite little heels. And then I went to school.
Joey and I met up after class and walked to Starbucks. We found a table and then I walked back up to the counter to get my drink. When I returned to the table, this is what Joey says.
"Do those shoes mess with the alignment of your hips?"
Wha???
"Um, I donno..." I'm speechless. And confused.
"It's just that when you walk it looks like your hips are out of whack." He's trying to sound nice, but I know he's not really saying what he was thinking as he watched me walk. He tries to explain himself more, probably because I was giving him a somewhat dirty, confused look. A look that says, "What? You don't like how I walk?"
"It's just that with those shoes, it looks like your hips and back hurt."
Great. So I look like a flipping invalid in my favorite jeans and shoes.
I try to explain that maybe with the combination of my too big pants (which, by the way, aren't Joey's favorite) and the heels my hips look weird when I walk.
We drop this horrible conversation by starting to talk about some stranger who has a funny hair-do. Then we move on to some girl with boots that Joey doesn't like. He tells me he would never let me out of the house in boots like that.
"Well, you don't like the clothes I wear now anyways." Suddenly our conversation is serious and you can feel in the air how much is hanging on Joey's response. I feel about as vulnerable as a new butterfly right now.
"I do like your clothes." He does really good. His eyes are looking at me and he even reaches out and touches my arm. "You are beautiful."
Oh boy did I need to hear that. DING DING DING, Joey is the winner!!!
I say thanks, like it's no big deal. Like I wouldn't have gone into the bathroom the split second Joey left for class and bawled my eyes out if he hadn't responded exactly like he did.
So anyways. Back to the jeans. And losing weight.
I guess all I can do is eat normal and maybe get some new, smaller jeans. But then I will be paranoid if I grow out of them, even if it means growing back into the one's I'm wearing, which I never had an issue with before I suddenly lost this weight.
I will have to fight that. Curves are good. Bones are bad.