It was like groundhog day, but instead of Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell, the stars of the movie were the (significantly less attractive or entertaining) scale in my bathroom and my belly.
One of the main drivers for this weight loss journey (yes, Jeff, I know – “healthy lifestyle choice”) is that, for the last 2 years, I have found myself losing the same five pounds over and over again. Specifically, I’d get to somewhere around 185 (187 if I hadn’t been exercising, 189 if my daughter’s bakery was testing out new recipes), freak out, and “do something”.
Often “do something” was jump back on the treadmill. Or try drinking more water. Or avoid the 10pm date I had with the snacks in the pantry. And, if the diet gods were smiling and the phase of the moon was just right, I’d drop down to around 180.
But no matter how many extra miles I jogged, no matter how many cupcakes I passed up, I couldn’t get to 170-something. It was disheartening. I wasn’t depressed, but the issue was like a constant nagging itch in the back of my brain.
For me, after 2 years, that itch was finally bothersome enough that I had to do something about it. So here we are.
And now to the numbers. Here in week 2, I’m at:
- 5′ 8″ tall (Still not shrinking)
- 51 yrs old (until further notice)
- 177 lbs
- 41″ belly (same)
- 39″ waist (ditto)
Yes, that means I’ve broken the “170-something” wall. I’m taking a moment to celebrate that success, but I’m already setting my sights on “160” something. And soon.