Not recognizing how small I've become

There have been times where I look in the mirror or look at my own body and not see the difference in the weight.  I know that's ridiculous because, helloooo ... how can you not notice the difference in 190 pounds gone?  I just still see myself with a filter on, the one that allowed me to be 417 pounds.  Sometimes I'll be driving in my car and look at the distance between my tummy and the steering wheel, yet still be so amazed.  Not too long ago, I could barely fit behind the steering wheel and had to drive with it practically in my lap.  Just shocking.  Where did all that weight go all of a sudden?

I had another shocking moment.  In my communication class tonight, we had to head over to the Arts building for a private screening of a Asian-related movie in an auditorium.  I had been in this room before when I was at my heaviest and squeezing my bootie into one of those chairs would have been a miracle.  Here's what the room and those chairs looks like:

I don't know if you can fully appreciate the anxiety I was feeling.  To the right of each seat is the pull down desk if you wanted to take notes.  This auditorium was packed to the gills this time, though.  I sat down in an empty seat with the chairs right next to me remaining open.  Next thing I knew, people sat next to me because it was standing room only.  And you know what?  I had excess room to spare in my seat.  What a gift all of this has been.  No one in that room knew my secret ... that I weighed 417 pounds.  Then it hit me - I am not who I used to be.  Wow, that realization was pretty startling.  I pray no one ever gets to know that 417-pound Kathy in person again, except the remnants of her, which is who I am today.  I am no longer the biggest one in the room and that's a huge realization for me. And, to be honest, very difficult to deal with all at the same time.  If I'm not the biggest one in the room any longer, then what is my identity now?