20 pounds gone.
20 pounds is a LOT of weight to lose in 2 months. I’ve worked hard and done a great job. My outlook has changed in fundamental ways.
Once again, I’ve cracked the 250 mark (you know, the one I SWORE I would never, ever revisit? Sigh.). I’m rapidly heading for 240. I’ve had to discard 2 of my favorite capri pants because they’re simply too big for me. The shirt I’m wearing today? This is the last day I’ll wear it as well. It’s too big.
I’m trying really hard to hold on to these little victories. I need to focus on the positive. If I don’t, I start thinking about the fact that even though I’m moving in the right direction and I’ve lost 20 freaking pounds, it’s only 1/7th of what I have to lose. 14% of the way there. 86% to go. When I think of that, I get really overwhelmed. I still have 120 pounds to lose. Oye.
I want it. I want it badly. But dude. It sucks to give yourself a cheat day and feel like the table full of men next to you are snickering as you eat the cheeseburger you have been longing for. They didn’t know this is the first day in 45 days that I have indulged myself to this extent. They didn’t know about the 20 pounds I’ve lost and the healthy foods I’ll eat for the next 45 days, with only tiny indulgences like 85% dark chocolate or paleo ice cream. Does it matter? No, not really. Fact is, they probably didn’t even notice me. Any censure I felt probably came from my own head.
I hate that I’ve put in all this work, but still can’t buy the clothes I really want to wear or sport a cute River Song costume this Halloween. I’ll get there, but I want something tangible, now.
But it’s worth the wait. It’s totally worth a year of my life, a year of sweat and sacrifice, of self-denial, to be healthy. To be hot. To be River Song.
If only I could just regenerate.