Last month, I decided to go to a nutritionist. I wanted to re-launch a program for losing some of the weight that seemed to settle around my middle overnight a couple years ago.

My doctor ran blood work on me. We came up with a strategy for boosting my thyroid and balancing my hormones, and I was referred to the practice’s nutritionist for further diet and lifestyle coaching. Shana, the nutritionist, and I decided I should go on a modified cleanse. I say “modified” because I agreed to a two-week version of a program some people do for 28 days.

After reviewing my general eating habits, which already did not include caffeine, processed foods, or much sugar, I went on a plan based on the theory of elimination. By eliminating many kinds of foods, the theory goes, I should be able to clear my digestive system of toxins and re-boot my metabolism. If I wouldn’t directly lose weight because of the cleanse (and often weight-loss doesn’t occur because protein supplements that are recommended to take during the program have hearty calorie counts), I could get rid of things that cause bloating or poor digestion.

I didn’t want to sound boastful, but after the first week, I was ready to crow, “This is easy.” I readily said “no’ to cocktails and wine, pork and pasta. The second week was harder as I had to give up all kinds of meat and dairy proteins, even nuts, and pretty much stick with fruits, vegetables, and olive oil. Sure enough, considering all the small gastronomical indulgences I didn’t allow myself for the two weeks, I was disappointed at only having lost about a pound. But at the end of the fourteen days, I did find that my pants fit a little looser on me.

And boy did that feel good!

What’s so great about the feeling of loose-fitting pants? I had to wonder. Being able to breathe easily and move around comfortably in your clothes is a fabulous feeling. Clothes can seem like a second skin and, aside from using clothes to make a statement about your personality, feeling comfortable in what you wear is related to feeling comfortable with how you present yourself to the world.

Loose-fitting pants feels like a victory of discipline over sloth. Since there are so many temptations in life, so many poor choices you can make, it’s nice to think you chose the high-road more often than not. But there’s more to this…

Zipping up in a pair of loose-fitting pants is a pure demonstration that you are not lying to yourself. While concern over money is always a good excuse not to buy new clothes every time scale readings jump a little, when I have tried to squeeze into something that was obviously too small, it was like making my current self fit into an old conception of myself. A Cleopatra, Queen of De-NIAL syndrome, I suppose, it is awful to tell yourself one thing, like “I can fit into these jeans just fine,” when inside you’re telling yourself, “Liar, Liar, (tight) pants on fire.”

I still want to lose a few pounds – for real – and I know I will have to administer appropriate doses of discipline, patience, and celebration.

But the joy of not having the waistband of my pants imprint red marks around my middle is no small thing.