This post was migrated from my Lifeblog.
It’s been a while, sorry about that! But I have good news to report. First, I FINALLY bought a scale. :) Second, I’m down to 135 pounds! That’s 20 pounds lost from my heaviest! Woohoo!
The bad news is that I’ve been sitting on 135 since the beginning of June. After my miscarriage, I lost almost 10 pounds in about a month, so I had my hopes all up that my metabolism was finally kicking into high gear, and now this. Oh well. For a few weeks, I was absolutely obsessed with the thought of making that needle drop a little more. I would examine myself in the mirror every day and collapse in despair when things didn’t change.
Oddly enough, this time it was reading about other people’s weight loss efforts that helped me come back down to earth. I say this is odd because usually, it seems like everyone else managed to shed their fifty pounds in a paltry four months, with smug “after” pictures that feature slender curves and toned stomachs. I’ve been at it religiously for 6 months, and I’ve lost only 20 pounds and less than 3 inches of belly fat! So it’s usually a downer, to say the least. This time, it was different. I ran across several people whose weight loss efforts spanned several years and suffered many long stalls. Admitedly, it’s comparing apples and oranges: Most of these people were middle aged and had hundreds of pounds to lose. But to know that many other people had to tough it out over a long period of time, that it wasn’t instant gratification, really helped.
My feet are more or less planted on the ground now. I don’t weigh myself every day anymore; in fact, I’m taking one man’s advice and weighing myself every MONTH! Sounds like a long time, but I’m losing pretty slowly now. This way, I can be pleasantly surprised by the numbers and enjoy my life in between, without obsessing about my weight. Some days I still fly off the handle over my flabby arms, but usually I try hard to appreciate my figure, which is truly much better than it was! Especially after reading DietGirl (great book and great blog, by the way!), I’ve realized that most of weight loss is learning to love yourself.
I also keep reminding myself of a few things. First, my fat took a long time to gain. Ten years in fact. Most websites will tell you that it takes longer to lose fat than to gain it. So in that light, I’m doing ridiculously well! Second, I’m recovering from years of mysteriously fragile health. No one was ever able to figure out what was wrong with my body, but it’s clear that it has a lot of latent issues to resolve. So if it takes a little longer to get to the flab, well I’ll just assume it’s working on something more important. Third and lastly, I’m not exercising. I know; I can just hear the round of boos coming from the fitness world. So sue me. I’ve been sitting on my bottom, eating steak, feeling loads better, and losing weight! :D Now in all seriousness, I would rather be fit. But I’m going easy on myself. I’ve been an inch from bedridden for most of the last decade, and it’s neither realistic nor productive to expect me to start jogging cold turkey. There is a time to reap and a time to sow; a time to rest and a time to get up and move! Now, after six months of serious recuperation, I think it’s time to start moving! Which brings me to my next post …