That woman who isn't me

Today, I took down most of my old pictures.

I know, some websites and self-image consultants and whatnot tell you to keep out some of your "pre-lifestyle-change" pictures. (I called them my "fat pictures" earlier today and boy did I manage to piss someone off.) That looking at these old pictures of myself, I can see how far I've come, how much different I am now. That these pictures will inspire me to keep up the good work (or, on the flip side of the coin, they'll terrify me into skipping that snack!).

They don't.

All these pictures tend to do is make me sad.

Someone else said to me that we (the before me and after me) were the same person, only the packaging has changed.

I'm not sure that's true.

The old me didn't like to be outside. The old me would rather order her groceries from an online service and pick them up so she didn't have to walk around the grocery store. The old me would do anything - ANYTHING - to avoid physical activity. The old me worried so much about the state of her health that she could barely sleep at night, and yet was so determined not to change that she refused to see a doctor. As if whatever illnesses she had could be avoided just from lack of knowledge. The old me wore the same shabby house dress day in and day out because it was just about the only thing she had that fit and was comfortable. (She wore different clothes when she went "out", but generally avoided going out as much as possible, too.) The old me was uncomfortable in a restaurant booth, the edge of the table constantly buried somewhere deep within folds of fat. The old me once lied, boycotted a store, and blamed a sales clerk when it was actually her fault that she'd knocked an expensive china figure off a shelf with a too-wide hip. (She told everyone that the figure had been broken to start with and the clerk pinned it on me because she picked it up.) The old me was constantly depressed. When her entire batch of friends filled out a "pick words to describe her" experiment, Every Single One of my friends selected "Unhappy" as a descriptor. The old me was constantly overheated and sweaty, using extra-strength deodorant several times a day and still having wet spots under her arms.

The new me is active. The new me gets cranky if she hasn't been out of doors at least a few times a week. The new me is constantly chilly (the new me also has a MUCH LOWER electric bill because she doesn't need it to be 68 inside her apartment during the summer!) The new me has a tan most of the time - and not a "lay around and bake" tan, either, but one that's got several strange lines from wearing different clothing outside. The new me likes clothes shopping. The new me goes to the doctor regularly, is aware of her blood sugar levels, and doesn't avoid the dentist. The new me would rather walk to the 7-11 and get a diet coke as a "treat" than go to the Red Robin and eat a basket of cheese sticks (ok, I'm not sure about that one yet... I'd still rather eat the cheese sticks. the point is, however, that I don't.) The new me is happier. The new me has a lot of active, healthy friends who do active, healthy things. The new me is absurdly excited about her new Wii Fitness game.

So I took down all those old pictures.

Because I don't know that person anymore.