Head to toe.

1.  For  some reason, I'm extra pleased that I managed to get down to a normal, healthy weight before my hair went gray.  Yeah, I have gray hair in there, but you only notice if you look real hard.  

2.  My face seems to have aged five or ten years in a few months.  Plumpness fills you out more, I guess, and losing it makes your skin collapse, at least just a little bit.  Or maybe it's the ravages of starvation, ha ha.  It's a bit startling, but as I get used to it, I like the change.  Ever since childhood I've looked too young for my age.  It's nice to look just right.

3.  Collarbones.  I was bending slightly over the sink in the washroom at church and looked into the mirror to see collarbones peeking out from the neckline of my blouse.  I think I'd like to celebrate them with a new necklace, but the price of gold is staggering right now.  I'll probably wait a bit.

4.  I've got muscles in my arms and shoulders.  Did you know that?  I refuse to flex for Photobooth, so you're just going to have to take my word for it, but I will attest that swimming twice a week for ten months produces very visible results.  It is almost, but not quite, enough to eliminate the upper-arm jiggle I inherited from Mom and Grandma.

5.  Breasts?  Hahahaha.  No, really, I still have them, but I don't like to look.  And no, I'm not depressed because I'm small-breasted now.  (I'm a 34D now.  Before, the weight hurt my back and bra straps cut into my shoulders.)  Oh no, it's the stretch marks/extra skin combination.  The phrase "two pounds of stuff in a three-pound sack" comes to mind.  A good bra takes care of it, but still.  Just be ready for it if you ever lose 31 percent of your body weight.  (Don't let it stop you if you decide it's a good idea, but be ready for it.)

6.  Moving right along:  Did you know that not only do I have muscles, but I have a ribcage?  Really!  The bottom edge of my ribcage, where it makes a sort of corner near my armpit, is mysteriously weird to me.  I keep resting my hand there and wondering where this strange lump came from.  Seriously, it does not seem to be part of my body, like aliens came and surgically implanted a ribcage in my torso.   I should try to get Oliver Sacks to interview me for his next book.  "Alien Ribcage Syndrome."

7.  Tummy:  Oh, yes, there's a tummy.   Unless she's exceptionally fit with exceptionally elastic skin, every woman has extra tummy tissue after having one baby.  Or three.   Skin and its supporting structures just don't disappear, you know.  Well, I've got that in spades now.   However, I can report that I can, and have, fit into some clingy, form-fitting dresses I never ever thought I could wear.  Let's just say:  Don't sell your stock in Spanx.

8.  Hipbone.  See "ribcage."  I get two chapters in the Oliver Sacks book.  "Alien Pelvis Syndrome."  No, wait, that sounds like a different kind of book.  I take it back.

9.  I remember as a young teenager flipping through some women's magazine to a two-page spread that was called something along the lines of "What Perfect Legs Look Like."  I have no idea why someone thought this would sell magazines.  Maybe the idea was to inoculate their readers with feelings of shame and unworthiness so that they would buy more magazines the next month.  But I distinctly remember a photograph of a  bikini'ed woman from the hips down, legs together, facing the camera, backlit.  Arrows pointed to the four places where a woman, standing with her Perfect Legs straight, should be able to clasp a single dime: a spot between the top of the thighs about an inch below the bikini, between the knees, between the calves at their widest point, and between the anklebones.  In the photograph, light showed everywhere else.  

There must have been other requirements for Perfect Legs that I failed to remember, because trust me, I do not have them.  But I could totally do the dime trick now.  I'm worth more though -- anyone have four hundred-dollar bills?  OK, I'll settle for fifties.

10.  I ran on the treadmill a couple of weeks ago, and my shins didn't hurt, my ankles didn't hurt, my feet didn't hurt, not even a couple of days later.  What a great feeling.  Perhaps I can learn to be a runner after all.  There's still hope, Kim In Iowa Who Wants Me To Do Triathlons With Her. 

11.  Hello, toes.  We'll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on.

Comments

[mrsdarwin]

Re: #5 -- I would delighted to go down a cup size, since right now I have to order all my bras instead of buying them in person. I don't think that I'm an extreme outlier, but undergarment manufacturers obviously don't think there's enough money to be made from 34DD and up to stock them in stores. Even many maternity stores don't carry them.

I have a certain quantity of silver hair now, but I kind of like it -- it glitters. I wonder if I'll feel that way when it starts to take over?