I know that this is real--six weeks ago, I had surgery that left my stomach the size of an egg. I know that. I can eat--mostly chicken, by the way--two or three ounces of food at a time. I am losing weight every day. I am. I would have to be--think about it. I may eat nine ounces of food a day. Nine ounces! Of course, I'm losing weight.
Still, I don't believe it. On some weird level, it's inconceivable to me. When I look at clothing in the store, I look at the size I *was* before the surgery. I can't even conceive of fitting into smaller sizes. It is surreal.
Today I wore a pair of pants that used to be tight, so tight that there is a slight tear at the pocket from where I stretched them beyond their ability to stretch. Today, it was like I was wearing clown pants. Big in the seat, the legs, the stomach--everywhere. Again, because I'm having a hard time grasping this, I told myself that the pants just stretched, until I saw someone who said to me, "I remember when you wore those and they were *tight*."
When she said that, I smiled--it was the confirmation I needed. I have to continue to remind myself that I *am* losing weight--and I *will* continue to do so. But if you see me, comment on it, would you? I need the confirmation!