Back to Normal

What is Normal, and how do I know I'm back to it?
Last weekend my husband and I flew down to North Carolina to visit his folks for Easter.  We haven't seen them in 4 years, and I haven't flown in almost 5.  The last time I flew I almost needed the belt extender on my seat belt because it was REALLY tight.  I flew to and from Atlanta cursing the small seats, the narrow aisle, and the general lack of room in the airplane's lavatory.
This time I was prepared.  I had my jacket off before I boarded the plane, I wore loafers to make the security check-point mess go faster, and I had three packets of tissues because I was starting my annual spring-cleaning of my sinus cavities by having everything run right the hell out my nose for three days. (stupid damn allergies)
I requested the window seat because I like to watch take off, and as I stowed my jacket and purse, sat down and put on my seat belt, a funny thing happened.  I got out my Nook, started to read a book, and it struck me that I was comfortable in my seat.  Well, as comfortable as any airline seat not in First Class gets.  I looked down at the belt, which I had snugged against my hips as I was directed, and realized there was easily 6 inches of belt sticking out from the buckle.  In all the times I've flown in the last 25 years, that hasn't happened at all.  Not only was there belt sticking out of the buckle, I wasn't bumping my husband out of HIS seat next to me.  My fanny actually fit in the seat!
Let that sink in for a moment.
If you're a large person, there are things you start to dread.  Movie theater seats.  Airplanes.  Public restrooms.  Waiting room chairs with arms.  Turnstiles. The chair in the lab when they draw blood for tests.  Wheelchairs.  Touring old houses with narrow stairwells.  You start assessing doorways and chairs, you start looking for ramps instead of stairs, and you almost always use the handicapped stall if it's available; and if it's not, you will wait for it to become available. You get adept at turning sideways and standing on tip-toe. You slowly learn that you just don't fit in this world, and you become hampered in your movements.  I'm not saying it's right or wrong, I'm just saying that it exists.
I was happy the day I was able to put my wedding ring back on.  I was excited the week I realized I had finally dropped out of double-digit sized underwear.  I was ecstatic to realize I was down to the same size clothing I had worn as a senior in high school. I was, and am, still a big woman. I'm just not nearly as big as I used to be.
I had to force myself to stop using the handicap stalls in the restrooms.  I used the toilet on the airplane.  It was still very small, but it wasn't uncomfortably so.  I could easily turn around in it.  I walked face-on down the aisle of the airplane.  I didn't have to turn sideways to fit.
So, what does all that have to do with being back to normal?
If Normal is what is OUTSIDE my head, then I'm back to normal.  I can shop in a regular clothing store, I can buy clothing off the rack, I can tell my husband to buy a pack of underwear in a certain size and they will fit me.  I don't have to guess if I will be able to fit in the bathroom, or be able to get through a doorway or aisle.  I don't have to look for the special seats in the movie theater that are usually reserved for someone who is sitting with a wheelchair person.
It took a couple of months to get what was INSIDE my head to match what was OUTSIDE.  I was still thinking like a FAT person; limiting my choices and basing my decisions on what my body had dictated I could and couldn't do for the last 25 years.