On Monday I went shopping. I had a couple of hours to kill before my train, and had a few groceries to get, so off I went. I passed a clothes shop and the shop sells clothes up to a size 32 and had a sale on, so I thought maybe I'd find something in my size and at a bargain.

On the rack outside, I saw a gorgeous dress that I simply had to have a closer look at. It was only £4, so no harm in looking. I took it to the saleswoman and asked what size I'd need. They were rated XXL, XL, L, M, S, XS and so forth and I'd taken the XXL with me, hoping that'd be big enough. It looked about right, didn't it?

"Well," the saleslady said, looking me up and down, "You're about the same size as me, and I use a L in this dress."

The same size as her?

The same size as that normal looking woman?

"No, no," I said. "I'm a size 14."

"Yeah, that's the same size as me," she confirmed.

What?

Same size as that normal looking woman?

I must've looked puzzled. She asked me if I wanted to try it on to see.

"No, no... I... it's just I don't think... I mean... That can't be right..."

But the more I looked the more I realised she was right. I was her, the normal looking woman with just a few extra pounds on the sides. Not the grossly obese woman who, albeit gone from the scales, appear to have remained in my mirror.


And that's the tale of how in a single moment on Monday I lost 92.6lbs.


By the way, the dress in the size L fits me perfectly.

And it's gorgeous.