There are quite a few ways to tell you’re putting on weight, aside from stepping on a scale, of course. New aches and pains may occur after the most mundane of activities. Maybe you can’t run as much as you could before. Or, maybe you go to put on that favorite shirt of yours only to find out the fit is just a little more snug than you remember.

The first time it happens isn’t the sobering moment you may think of it as. In fact, it’s easy to write off as a laundry mishap. Like leaving something red in with your load of whites. It’s only after a few shirts start to stretch and become taut across parts of your body in ways they hadn’t before, that you realize you may have put on a little more than “a few” pounds over the winter. In that moment, there is a strange emotional battle at play.

First and foremost, there is relief that you haven’t all of a sudden forgotten how to wash your own clothes. So, for now, you can still consider yourself a mostly functioning adult. That next emotion though: sadness. One piece of Halloween candy too many has slowly turned you into the Yellow M&M from the commercials. Lovable and charming, sure, but a little more round in places where you once had square edges. 

The trick now is to figure out just how you want to move forward with this information. While the heart may have wanted to believe anything but the truth about your changing body, you’ve now got a couple extra pounds and a decision to make: invest in some bigger clothes or try to undo what’s been done.

I’ve faced this physical and mental crossroads on a few occasions, each time choosing the “healthy” route. I dusted off that gym membership and bought pre-made salad packs. I wanted to fit into those shirts again, but it wasn’t just the fashion aspect that motivated me. Of course, I wanted to look good, but if I was in that situation, that usually meant months of terrible habits had to be undone. I had to relearn what it meant to be “healthy.”

I’ve learned not to fear the ill-fitting shirts in my closet. I’ve embraced them like they embrace my now ample bosom. No longer seeing them as a setback, but a starting point. I know where I don’t want to be, and better than any scale or BMI, I can feel the difference on me once I’m moving in the right direction. I don’t need to lie to myself for even a moment if it happens again; just squeeze into the pants, and get busy. Just gotta be careful though. You don’t want to go overboard if you really do shrink a shirt in the wash.

How do you react when your clothes start fitting differently?
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