On cool autumn race mornings, especially those with long lines to cross the start line, runners bring with them "throw aways."  Throw aways are clothing that are meant to keep you warm until you reach the starting line (sometimes 20 to 30 minutes). Once you reach the starting line, you toss them to the side never to be seen again.  Most races then go back and collect those clothes and donate them to shelters so someone will see them again, just not the runner who threw it out.  

I've been planning on finding my "throw away" for race day now for weeks.  I kept saying I was going to stop at the store and I just never did, in fact, I kind of forgot about finding something until this week.  Unaware of the heatwave that was coming this week, Sunday I cleaned out the clothes to swap out the summer collection for the fall collection.  Among my diggings at the bottom of my closet, I came across THE brown shirt.  As I've lost weight, I've donated bags and bags of clothing to Goodwill and got smaller and smaller clothing.

I started out saving a handful of clothing as "reminders" of the former fat me—some shirts, a pair of pants but as time has gone by, I've weeded all of them out except the last remaining piece, the brown shirt.  What made the brown shirt so special?  This ugly monstrous shirt pretty much  sums up how I felt at 450 pounds—not pretty but very large.  I can remember this brown shirt being too tight, I just squeezed into it and I remember being so excited when I could actually wear it like it was supposed to be worn—not with the seams busting.  Whenever I needed a reminder of just how far I've come, I would pull this shirt out and remember that it once was too small!

Well, it's been months since I've pulled out the brown shirt but I stumbled across it during my wardrobe change.  As soon as I saw it, I immediately thought, "This should be my throw away!"  And just as soon as I thought that, I thought to myself "No, I can't get rid of that, it's my last former fat girl shirt!"  I instantly felt torn and oddly, felt torn about being torn!  I posed the question on Facebook to my other weight loss community friends if they too had kept clothing and what they thought about me using my last piece as my "throw away."

Virtually all of my weight loss pals said keep it, cling on to it, never get rid of it as a reminder of who I was.  It hit me that what they were saying was this shirt was the last thread of comfort to hid behind.  I am the first person to tell you all about how I used food and fat as a security blanket.

When you lose weight, you are forced to relearn coping mechanisms, it's the hardest part of weight loss and it is what separates those who will gain their weight back from those who will adopt it as a healthy lifestyle.  Hanging onto this shirt was not about measuring how far I've come, it was about remembering the comfort of fat and food. It's both a soother as a  reminder of the comfort and at the same time, it is a scare tactic to remind you to never ever go back to that place again.

The truth is, I don't need the shirt.  I don't need to be scared into sticking with it because I'm not on a diet, I'm living a healthy life.  I don't need a reminder of the comfort of food and fat because it was never that great at doing its job to begin with. The more I heard people say cling onto that brown shirt, the more I knew it HAD to be my "throw away."

I have become a confident strong woman who remembers where she has come from and knows where she wants to go.  There is no room in my life (or at the bottom of my closet) for brown shirts that are nothing but baggage from the past. I cannot think of a better way to start off my race on Sunday than by tossing the last piece of baggage weighing me down.  My bag's all packed for Sunday and it includes my brown shirt waiting to be tossed!

Running with a little less weight,

The Fat Runner