I have never been normal.  As far back I can remember I was overweight.  I had puppy fat.  I was chubby.  I was heavy for my height but I’d grow into it.  I had an adult appetite.  I was pleasantly plump.  I was at Weight Watchers at age 12. 

I am now a normal weight.  But I don’t know what normal is.  I don’t know what normal feels like.  I don’t know how normal behaves.  I don’t know what normal does.  It isn’t MY normal. 

I wore a skirt to work yesterday.  When I was getting dressed in the morning, I got out my pantyhose and started getting organized to get them on, doing what was normal for me.  Find a place to sit where I can lift my leg up onto the bed and still reach my toes.  Gather up one leg and strain and strain until I get my toe in.  Pull on one leg only just below the knee.  Gather up the second leg down to the foot part.  Grunt and puff and strain and contort until I get my other leg somewhere in the general vicinity of the second leg of the pantyhose.  Flail about with a purple face until the foot by some miracle goes into the hose and hope and pray that it didn't go in twisted because if it did, too bad.  I'll just be uncomfortable all day.  Stand up and pull and pull and pull little by little by little until the panty part actually gets up over my hips.  Put another pair of underwear over top of the pantyhose so they don't slide down off my hips at some inopportune moment during the day.  Sit down and rest until the sweat dries and I can finish getting dressed..  Look forward to the moment during the day when the crotch rips and the fat at the top of my thighs blops through the hole and starts chafing.

Oh, just a minute.  I forgot.  I'm different now.  How about if I just stand here on one foot, lift my other foot up in the air and slide the hose on and pull them on in two easy movements taking about 10 seconds and get on with my day?  I have to learn THAT’s the new normal for me.

We were at the lake today and after we were done swimming, we went into the change house.  I looked around to get organized to get changed.  Look for a large handicapped stall with a bench in it.  Roll my bathing suit off myself and then try to dry as much of my body as I can reach.  Put my clothes on as best as I can over my damp body without getting them wet and full of sand as I contort in the confines of the changing room.  Put my towel right on the dirty sandy floor and rub my feet back and forth and side to side to try to get the sand off and out from between my toes.  Sit on the wet bench and struggle to put on my own socks and shoes over damp feet with loads of sand still between my toes.  Sit and pant and rest and try to cool off from the sweat of exertion.

Oh, just a minute.  I forgot.  I’m different now.  How about if I just walk into the first available change stall, quickly slide my bathing suit off without it touching the floor, and dry my body completely and thoroughly.  While still standing, put my clothes on without getting them wet.  Do the pink flamingo and clean the sand off my feet and from between my toes.  Put on my socks and shoes and step dry, clean, and refreshed from the stall in about two minutes?  I have to learn THAT’S the new normal for me.

And I can park in any parking spot and not have to think about having enough room to get in and out of the car.  And my husband doesn’t have to back the car out of the parking space for me to get in if someone has parked too close.  But I still hesitate until I remember that’s the new normal for me.  And I can reach items from the bottom shelves at the grocery store and, believe it or not, from the higher shelves as well.  I may not be taller, but I can get closer to them and reach much higher.  But I have to remember to try and not automatically ask for someone to get them for me.  I shop in normal stores.  I am not an imposter posing as a normal-sized person.  I belong there.  These are my new normals.

Why is it so important for these to become second nature and automatic for me?  Why is it so important for these to be just normal?  For exactly the same reason that I have to stop thinking of myself as an obese person - the same reason I have to think of my current weight as what is normal for me.  We all gravitate to what we know.  We all want to be in our comfort zone.  We all naturally revert to what we think is normal for us.  If I think that being 314 pounds is my normal weight and my current weight of 145 pounds as a fairy-tale dream too good to be true, I will end up back at 314 pounds (or more).  If I celebrate and get all excited every time I put on pantyhose or get changed in a regular stall or get in and out of the car in a parking lot, I’m behaving as if these are extraordinary events and not normal for me.  Yes, it was wonderful when they first became possible and it was right to celebrate.  But it is definitely time to move on.  Time to be normal - my new normal.  I will never forget where I came from nor what I have accomplished.  I love and accept and yes, even forgive the person I was.  But never again will that be normal for me.

I am a 145 pound woman.  145 pounds is my normal weight.  I wear a size 8-10.  Size 8-10 is my normal size.  This is not the new me.  This is not the improved me.  This is the regular, everyday, ordinary, NORMAL me ready to get on with the rest of my life.