The one thing nobody can do better than you is be you.
Wardrobe changes were in order. My old clothes were too big, but I didn't want to buy new ones until I knew my final size. Consignment stores could keep me clothed until I knew where I'd end up, but I did splurge on new underwear.
The Old Me Beckons
Now a new temptation beckoned. The closer I got to my goal, the more frequently I found myself thinking about abandoning the project. As excited as I was about progress, I was also drawn back to the familiarity of the "old" me. The more my body changed, the stronger this impulse to run away to a "safe" place where I could eat french fries and double bacon cheeseburgers without reproach for my public commitment to fitness.
I felt sad about the person I was leaving behind. One day I actually mourned her, the way you mourn a dear friend who has moved away. In the best way she knew, she had seen me through some tough times. Now I was leaving her to find a new friend.
Do I sound crazy? Well, that's how I felt. Like a fading photograph, the former "me"—a person of substance—was disappearing. Emerging in her place was the new "me," a petite and feminine woman. This new person was more exposed, more vulnerable, and more available to others. She definitely wanted to come out and play.
Bridging the old and new person was the "me" always present whatever the form, the person who never changed and never would. Sometimes I felt as if I were on a roller coaster, the transition between what was and what was yet to be both exhilarating and frightening. However the experiment turned out, though, I was glad I'd had the courage to buy the ticket and take the ride.
Next: Carole enters the home stretch.