Ed. note: Welcome to the latest installment of “Janet Raiffa’s Recessionals,” a column by a laid-off recruiting manager in New York. Prior columns are collected [here]. You can reach Janet Raiffa via LinkedIn, leaving a comment here, or emailing 405club@gmail.com.

Pardon my Yiddish, but in the six months since I was laid off I’ve lost not only my job, but several jeans sizes, multiple handles d’amour, a second chin, and a good chunk of my tuchas.  When I started at Goldman in 1999 I was a fit size 10, but after years of stressful traveling and eating the equivalent of my compensation in hors d’oeuvres and free recruiting dinners, I departed in 2008 as a robust size 14-16.  When I left the law firm recruiting job less than a year later, I was still in that double digit realm, and beginning to drown my sorrows and fear in free pizza offerings, 99 cent pasta, and the creamy arms of the two most supportive and nonjudgmental men in my life – Ben and Jerry.   These simple carbohydrates and consoling fats made me feel better, and I congratulated myself on saving money as I adapted to my new bonus-less $405 a week compensation structure.

It took me a few months to realize that in the depressing and rejection-filled world of unemployment, I needed someplace to go on a daily basis, something to feel happy about, and some way to regularly measure my progress and success beyond  performance review feedback.   After years of being an irregular weekend gym-goer, I decided to commit to a routine and get back into shape.  To save money, I put my Chelsea Piers gym membership on hold, and joined a gym that was offering a free membership to the unemployed.   I was grateful for the cost savings, and the gym had most of the machines I used, but it wasn’t the same as going to a large gym with many amenities beyond the standard fitness equipment.  After three months I decided that the cost of the Chelsea Piers Sports Center was justified; it was a place that I could go for hours, and like the office I’d lost a place where I could both work intently and enjoy downtime in the presence of many other “colleagues.” I looked forward to the significant commute from my apartment in Park Slope because it got me out of the house each day, and interacting with still employed folks on the subway and bus, and relished the numerous celebrity sightings I could have when intermingling with other fitness buffs with irregular and “creative” hours.  Canyon Ranch keeps calling me with inducements to come back, but I could use the Sports Center and its spa facilities to pamper myself in the same way without a trip to the Berkshires or Arizona.

In a few months, the effort paid off.  I can now fit into almost every size 8 GAP has to sell – a size I hadn’t bought since high school in the 80s – and in one or two particularly generous cuts I can fit into a 6 without major damage to my circulatory system.  I was never truly obese, and am well aware that the average American woman wears a size 14, but the improvements to my health and fitness levels have been truly amazing.  My heart rate while resting and working out decreased so much that I had to switch machines several times to prove that there wasn’t a mechanical problem, and  I can now push myself harder and get to levels that increase my weight loss and cardiovascular efforts.  I used to be plagued by exercise induced asthma that necessitated frequent inhaler usage when I wound down from a workout in the locker room, and now that’s stopped.  I won’t get into the embarrassing chafing that afflicts women who have too much of a good thing, but as a 36D I now suffer from very little of what I did sporting a 40 inch bra.

Don’t get me wrong.  I find many larger sized women attractive – Jill Scott, Queen Latifah, Jennifer Hudson – but for some reason don’t think that the same proportions work as well on melanin-challenged folks like me.  Being heavier than I felt comfortable being also led to a particular brand of shyness and lack of self-esteem that everyone who knows me thought incompatible with my generally boisterous personality.  I could never post an actual picture of myself on facebook.  I had a Bette Midler headshot in place of my own.   I generally shied away from pictures too, but when others captured a picture of me I would look at it with initial excitement, decide that I looked too fat, and promptly de-tag it.  A few days ago, as part of a birthday celebration, my cousin whipped out a camera and had me pose for a variety of “glamour” shots.  When I looked at the photos I still focused on the problems of my too short and ring-y neck and a midsection that looked a bit thick for my now very thin arms, but I didn’t hate them.   I don’t think there’s anything I can do to make my neck longer at this point – those tribal rituals involving placing multiple bangles around the neck have to begin adolescence or earlier – but I was fine with the pictures and comfortable with actually looking like what I saw.

When my cousin sent me the pictures I decided that I would finally post an actual picture of myself.  If any of my high school or college friends was looking for me, I was okay with their seeing what I ‘d actually become, and not leading them to believe that I had turned out to be a Vegas superstar who got her start singing in bathhouses.   I’m not the most technologically savvy person, and after several tries to upload a picture into the profile space, I succeeded in posting it randomly where the updates go.  It seemed awfully conceited to just randomly post a picture of myself, but while I was struggling to either take it down or add some commentary to explain why I was displaying myself devoid of any particular occasion, I got a comment.  A man I knew from my old world of MBA recruiting conferences had hit the “like” button.  Pretty soon I got three more “likes” and a string of comments.  My former “competitor” from Lehman recruiting wrote “Wow! Girl, you are doing something right..you look fantastic,” and a former Goldman colleague mentioned that she just spoke to a mutual acquaintance who had seen me on the street, and noted that I looked great.  “Congratulations,” she wrote following up on the conversation and the picture, “on the new Raiffa aesthetic.”

I’ve done a lot of things I’m proud of since I got laid off, and had the opportunity to revisit some passions that I tucked away almost as soon as I picked up my college degree. I’ve volunteered for NY Cares on multiple occasions and helped feed hundreds of New Yorkers whose problems put my relatively minor ones into clear perspective.  I’ve indulged my undergraduate theater minor’s thirst for fame by appearing on Brooklyn BCAT television, NY 1, a Reuter’s piece on creative approaches to managing unemployment, and an episode of “Law and Order.”  I’ve been quoted in articles published in three countries, and written more in blog posts than I have since I finished my 100+ page master’s thesis.  I’ve enjoyed the positive feedback for my posts  that I might have received if I’d ever pursued a writing career, but avoided all the criticism and rejection that a real writer might face.  I’ve been able to utilize the skills I developed in two decades as a recruiter to help students at two Ivy League business schools with their resumes, and I’ve just picked up a third assignment for another top-ranked school.  Of all the things I’ve done since leaving the 9-to-5 world the thing that has made me the happiest is still losing weight and making a habit of fitness. It isn’t completely free or even cheap; I’ve found that I need a top notch gym with world-class facilities to keep me motivated to go almost every day, and I’ve spent more on high protein and low calorie food than I ever could on a dollar meal diet from McDonald’s.  It is still worth it. The endorphin rush I get from the elliptical beats back the malaise that comes from losing a familiar work routine and worrying about the future, and it’s still cheaper than therapy or heroin. There is no better time than this one to focus on making myself the most attractive and self-confident candidate for whatever I end up doing.

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Now you have the chance to win a absolutely free month, no strings attached, to the Chelsea Piers Gym! Become a 405 Club Facebook fan and post a link on our wall of any article you’ve found helpful or inspirational in your job search.  One of the entries will be chosen on October 28th for a FREE November!