Numbers Game
Our lives are made up of numbers. From the moment we are born, numbers begin to compose our identity. Whether it be a number we are immediately assigned, like our birthday, or one that we aspire to like a swanky zip code, numbers tell our story. Some change and some stay the same. Some numbers seem to have a vicious hold on us, until we learn to let go.
I was 16, in the 11th grade, 225 lbs, and had just been hired to work at The Gap. I felt proud and I felt cool. My friend Keith had already been working for the company and had given me a strong lecture on the honor of being a Gap employee. My other friends may be babysitting or bagging groceries, but here I was about to start my journey of mastering the “perfect fold” and best of all, the coveted employee discount.
I had to dress the part. I was making $6.00 an hour, but received 50% off on 5 new pieces per month, My new manager recommended we wear clothes from the newest collection to promote sales on the floor. She went on to inform us that if our size was not available in store we could order it online. She was speaking to all 3 new employees, but I knew the last part was for me. After the 30 minute orientation and $82.00 later (with my discount, of course), I had 4 new pieces headed my way in 3 to 5 business days.
I remember that outfit vividly. A 2 XL bubblegum pink sweater with ¾ length sleeves, a matching pink and tan striped collared shirt to go underneath, and a pair of size 18 Long and Lean jeans. I had to get the belt to tie it all together, because my new manager had just told me, “Accessories are the easiest way to make a simple purchase an ensemble!” When my outfit came in the mail I excitedly ripped open the box and put it on. The zipper went up seamlessly and the sweater fit me the way it fit all the other girls who were able to shop right off the rack. I felt beautiful.
I was 19, I was no longer working at The Gap. There were some new numbers in my life. I was in my 2nd year of college. I had discovered that after 3 drinks I start to feel at ease but for some reason I can never stop at 5 or 6, and as long as I make it to bed by 12 I can get to my 8 am class. I am 235 lbs. I do not feel beautiful, I feel big. Too big for the jeans, too big for a boyfriend, too big for a career, too big to take a yoga class (I don’t even know what that means, but it was a genuine thought). At that point I lost myself, I lost control, I became a number.
I was 21. The bottle of 5 O’Clock vodka is $5.96 and I drink 6 nights a week, and on the 7th I vow to never drink again. This sequence repeats itself every week. If I stop eating my 1100 calories before 7 pm I am doing well, and if I drunkenly eat 6 mozzarella sticks at 2 a.m. it just takes 1 trip to the toilet to be back in control. While I knew this was scary, it didn’t matter because we were making the guest list! Not for a birthday party, but for my size 12 party. I was thrilled! I had NEVER been a size 12. The moment I became a teenager I immediately jumped from the Girls Plus department at Crowley’s to a women’s 16, never a size in between. I rarely ever celebrated myself, but this was a good number, this was a number worth celebrating. I was never a fan of math, but at this point the numbers weren’t in control of me, I was in control of them.
I was 25. The numbers got lower, the numbers got higher, and my life became smaller. 1200 calories, 3 points for a rice cake, remember to only take 1 Hydroxycut because 3 sent you to the hospital for 24 hours. 6 drinks at Happy Hour for $5 each, don’t let them see you have the 7th. Go home for 7, 8, and 9. Wake up at 11:30, 3 cups of coffee, be to work by 3 for a 10 hour shift, make $225, spend $80 at the bar, $25 on a cab, lose $40 somewhere on the way home, and along with that lose yourself. Who was I? Where was I?
I’m 33. Today I found myself in a dressing room at The Gap. Not the same one that held the honorable job 17 years ago. This Gap is in New York City, where I have lived for the past 10 years. At 23 I moved here with $5,000 and 6 friends. These are my numbers. I take the 1 Train to 86 Street to go to the job I have had for 6 years. I have been sober for 7 years. Numbers. I do at least 1 thing every day to honor the girl who at 16 knew more than I ever could imagine at 33. Numbers. What did she know? She was failing Algebra and the thought of adding more numbers into her life never crossed her mind. I am a size 10. This morning the scale told me I was 168 pounds. These are just numbers. I try on the Medium, it’s too tight. I grab the Large, it looks good. I walk to the 6 Train, it says it will arrive in 4 minutes, it comes in 2, it is actually a 5 Train, isn’t stopping at 53rd and is running express to 42. I decide to wait 3 more minutes for the 6. I learn to let go, whether it be control, expectations, or the MTA. I feel free.