I feel like I’m going through a tiny bit of body crisis over something so small.

I’m getting rid of all my size 22 pants. EVERYTHING.

I’m bringing them down to SC to give to my grandmother to sell at a consignment shop. And I found a pair of 24 magenta jeans from Torrid, that still had their price tag on them. I remember when I bought them freshman year of college, thinking eventually I was going to be a 24 and they kind of fit at a 22. They were way too big on me when I tried them on, yet I still wanted to keep them.

It was such a strange thought thinking that becoming a 24 was inevitable, even tho pre-op I was a 22 ever since I came to college. I never got to a 24.

I slipped on a few pairs of size 20 capris/dress pants with my shorts on bunched up and a tshirt tucked into them. They fit.

I just can’t fathom losing almost 2 pants sizes. (I say almost 2 because most 18s don’t fit right) It doesn’t seem like a big accomplishment. I want to hold onto my 22s. I don’t want to let them go. I said to myself “Gabby they’ll fit you this summer. They might fall down but you can still wear them anyway and hike them up.”

But in actuality they won’t fit me. They don’t fit me now. And I just can’t get over that I’m going down in pants sizes. It’s been so long since I started dieting in middle school that I’ve seen actual progress.

Even at a 20/18 I feel like I have more fashion options open to me. I forgot what that felt like. And it makes me both delighted and sad. Sad because I know how hard this world can be when you don’t have all the nice clothes available to you as a fat person above a 14.

My size has been a huge part of my identity, all my life. And I’m wondering what will be left at the end of this long journey?? Will I still be the same or will I be an even bigger mess with an even bigger identity crisis than I started out with?