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"    I lost 53 pounds over the course of 10 months. I dropped three dress sizes, went from a BMI of 32 to 23 (so, from clinically obese to a healthy weight) and went from someone who lived on the couch to running 5Ks and living for spin classes.  I&amp;#039;m happy about the health benefits, but in some ways, I&amp;#039;ve never felt worse about myself. That was the biggest shock of all: even at a weight I should be proud of, I still feel unhappy about how I look.   Let me explain. I began this weight loss &amp;quot;journey&amp;quot; in April 2012. I&amp;#039;d been overweight for a long time, so when my post-college weight came close to 200 pounds (I&amp;#039;m 5&amp;#039;5&amp;quot;), I was not surprised and also not particularly motivated to do much about it. I&amp;#039;d tried diets before that hadn&amp;#039;t stuck, leaving me the same weight or heavier than before and doubly discouraged. I had a job in my chosen industry, a New York City apartment, great friends, a wonderful boyfriend \u2014 so what if I shopped in the XL section? My bad eating habits and lack of exercise weren&amp;#039;t stopping me from having everything I&amp;#039;d wanted in life.  What changed my mind was a photo taken during a trip to Key West, Florida, for a friend&amp;#039;s wedding. I don&amp;#039;t know what it was about that particular photo \u2014 the lighting was fine, the angle was normal, I wasn&amp;#039;t dressed in anything unflattering \u2014 but something made me stop. I wanted to delete it, I wanted to hide it, I wanted to cry. It suddenly hit me that I didn&amp;#039;t want to look like that anymore.   So I signed up for Weight Watchers and joined the gym. And, little by little, the weight came off \u2014 a pound one week, two pounds other weeks, sometimes none at all. I was going about all this the &amp;quot;right&amp;quot; way, and it was working; less than a year later, I&amp;#039;d dropped more than 50 pounds. I should have been happy, and I was. But it also brought on all these other feelings I wasn&amp;#039;t prepared for. I&amp;#039;m much more aware of how I look now \u2014 and often, a lot more critical. This body is healthier and stronger (and yes, smaller) than the one I had before, but it doesn&amp;#039;t always feel like mine. I once said &amp;quot;excuse me&amp;quot; to a woman in a clothing store and tried to let her go around me, only to realize that I was talking to myself, in a mirror, like a crazy person. I didn&amp;#039;t even recognize my own reflection.  My relationship with food has totally changed. I&amp;#039;m no longer officially on Weight Watchers, which involves tracking every single thing you eat and drink, but I&amp;#039;m still second-guessing food choices and keeping a mental inventory of what I want to eat, what I ate earlier that day, what I might want to eat later this week. There&amp;#039;s a lot of guilt and fear that if I&amp;#039;m not &amp;quot;careful,&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;ll gain it all back. I know in my heart there&amp;#039;s nothing wrong with indulgences in moderation, but I still have to remind myself that it&amp;#039;s OK if I have a cupcake or want to eat a bagel some Saturday mornings.   Then there&amp;#039;s the matter of clothes. It sounds like the world&amp;#039;s biggest first-world problem, but imagine if everything in your closet didn&amp;#039;t fit. Every. Single. Thing. Your winter coat? Nope. All of your pants? Sorry! I couldn&amp;#039;t afford to replace my entire wardrobe at once (I&amp;#039;m still working on it), so figuring out what to wear each morning was extra anxiety-inducing for a while, because too-big clothes don&amp;#039;t look good either.   Exercise has become a big part of my life, too, which is great, obviously, but also sort of compounds my weird feelings about food. I aim to work out three or four times a week, and have beat myself up over it if other plans or, heaven forbid, just wanting to relax gets in the way. I trade food for exercise in my mind, and I&amp;#039;m still working on not withholding food if I didn&amp;#039;t exercise &amp;quot;enough.&amp;quot;   Breaking your mind out of weight loss mode is hard. Without a changing number on the scale, I&amp;#039;m no longer getting any reinforcement of whether I&amp;#039;m doing the &amp;quot;right&amp;quot; things or not. No one tells you about that part, or about the parts where you are left with loose skin, intensified swimsuit anxiety, and the feeling that the person you see in the mirror isn&amp;#039;t &amp;quot;you.&amp;quot;   The anxieties will eventually lessen, I hope, but even if they don&amp;#039;t, I keep reminding myself that I literally changed my life. I took the steps I needed to take to be healthy. I eat more fruits and vegetables than ever before, and I like them. I can run a mile; I can run three miles! I&amp;#039;m even toying with the idea of training for a half marathon. I&amp;#039;m slowly teaching myself that my self-satisfaction shouldn&amp;#039;t be tied to my appearance, but to my health and career success and incredible network of friends. All that has brought tremendous good to my life \u2014 those are the things that really define me, and they&amp;#039;re most definitely worth celebrating. Possibly even with cookies. This story originally appeared on Cosmopolitan.com. Related:I&amp;#039;ve Been Exhausted My Whole Life, and There Is No CureMy New Mole Almost Killed MeThe Problem With Perfection "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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