Do you ever have days where you just feel eight sizes larger than you really are? The mornings you wake up and think, “AH, I shouldn’t have eaten dinner!” The evenings when you can’t get dressed because none of your clothes fit correctly?

I’m having one of those mornings, days, evenings, weeks.

Size matters. Size matters to a woman. Size REALLY REALLY matters to a woman.

Last November I started back at CrossFit after a two-year injury hiatus. This came on the heels of a move to Norfolk and a move away from my 5-6 times a week spinning/cycling habit/obsession. So what has this done?

I’m stronger. I’m faster. I can lift more weight. My injury hurts less. Every day that I PR a deadlift, back squat or front squat, I have a cheering squad inside my brain. I appreciate the coaches that say, “You are stronger than what you think! Add more!” I have come to love things like thrusters and snatches. I strive to put more weight on that bar.

What I wasn’t quite prepared for was the weight to my body. Ten pounds quickly and quietly attached itself to my frame. Yes, I’m a bright girl…”Muscle weighs more than fat. Strong is the new skinny. Strong is sexy.” Blah, blah, blah. My pretty clothes don’t fit. Size matters.

My husband tells me daily that he loves the transformation that is happening. He calls me beautiful. He thinks I’m sexy. He frequently checks out the entity that has become my ass. Size matters.

I gave up on being “little” awhile back. Size 4 and happiness/healthiness were not mutually attainable for me. Size matters.

Size 6 on the other hand felt right on me. I felt lean and good and light. I ate loads of clean food and had endless energy to cycle and train on a daily basis. Size matters.

Now my size sixes are screaming. “Too wide! Too wide!” whimpers the zipper stretching across my back. “Too tight! Too tight!” bellows the thigh tucked into my expensive jeans. “Too big! Too big!” hurls the sleeve sucked against my shoulder. Size really matters.

I know this mental madness will pass; I don’t do insecure or perceived dysmorphia well. Let’s face it: I love the renewed strength, I crave confidence, and I’m vain as all hell. So the cardio, CrossFit and feeding balance has to be found. In the meantime, I must learn to love the size of things; the size of all my things.