skinny on the my new life

Af­ter los­ing al­most 70 pounds, CAR­RIE FISHER is leav­ing the past be­hind and is ready for ro­mance

Harper's Bazaar (India) - - BEST BEAUTY -

For the last four years, my fash­ion state ment was ba­si­cally, “You wouldn’t have this in a larger size, would you?” There were days I could barely strug­gle into a size 46 6 or 48, months of larges and XXLS, , and end­less rounds of leg­gings with h the elas­tic at the waist stretched to o its limit and be­yond—topped with h the fash­ion equiv­a­lent of a tea cosy. sy. And al­ways black, be­cause I was in mourn­ing for my slim­mer self.

But I’m glad to re­port that my griev­ing days are be­hind me. Not only can I fit into medi­ums and— d— yes, I swear—even smalls with­out any prob­lem, I can risk wear­ing the more- orethan-oc­ca­sional colour.

Peo­ple see me and they squeal like trop­i­cal birds or seals stranded on n the beach. Both friends and strangers s say, “Look at you. You look amaz­ing.” (And they don’t even want to bor­row money from me or ask me which Star Wars film was my favourite.)

Wow! I must’ve looked re­ally aw­ful. Maybe they’re be­ing nice to me now be­cause they know I’ll be fat again by fall of next year and on Danc­ing with the Stars by spring, be­ing flung around tele­vised dance floors in my glit­ter­ing tea cosy.

No, as it turns out, I re­ally like be­ing con­grat­u­lated on my weight loss. I like it so much, it’s tragic. I be­lieve the tech­ni­cal term for this is “post-fat, flab, and fash­ion”. Or F3, as it’s com­monly re­ferred to in the busi­ness.

I wan­der around in a mirac­u­lous new body. A body much like the one I had be­fore gain­ing some­thing scar­ily close to 70 pounds. The body I for­got I once had—that one on-screen in an in­fa­mous me­tal bikini. It wasn’t un­til af­ter that en­vi­able body of mine went miss­ing that I re­alised I’d ever had it at all. It turned out that I’d been some kind of geek cen­tre­fold. And I could go back to be­ing hot, maybe not like I once was—you know, “in a gal­axy far, far away” hot—but some­thing al­most that far out.

Gone for­ever are the days when there was more of me to love than hu­mans in­clined to give me that love. Now there might even be a hu­man out there to love me the most. So, what now?

I kind of missed out on the whole dat­ing thing be­cause I didn’t want to give men the right to say that they’d had sex with Leia Or­gana. But since I’ve lost the weight, I’m more con­fi­dent and I’m look­ing for­ward to dat­ing. I’m ready to go out there and find my one and only, the hero to my heroine, the prince to my princess.

I’m now inches away from ac­tu­ally be­ing the thin­ner woman who can join a dat­ing web site, a site where I can type in my bra size with­out shame. (Not that ask­ing for my bra size is even re­motely ap­pro­pri­ate on any ap­pli­ca­tion, with the ex­cep­tion of a form at the Play­boy Man­sion.) What I do re­alise now is that when peo­ple tell me I look great, they’re not just big liars or try­ing to be nice. And that’s worth a lot to me.

The best thing about po­ten­tially dat­ing at this lower weight is that my so-called suitor has a choice. He’s no longer re­stricted to be­ing able to like me for only my mind—no sir­ree, Bob. Now he can like me for my mind or my al­ter­na­tive, or both. Be­cause I be­lieve in the right to choose, don’t you?

Un­for­tu­nately, I have yet to find my­self a hu­man who I’m then able to pro­vide with that op­tion, which is one of the rea­sons I’m do­ing this ar­ti­cle. I’m not quite on Face­book yet, so I thought that in the mean­time, I would write about what it’ll be like when I even­tu­ally do date. And that will hap­pen when my next (and final) hus­band reads this. Let’s get this party started.

Left: Fisher in 2009. Right: Show­ing off

a slim­mer fig­ure in 2011.

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