The day is dawning bright and sunny here - there is always something so hopeful about a sunny winter morning, like it isn’t that bad after all and the spring is just a few gusts of wind away. I always feel like February and March are the best times of the year in a lot of ways because they are the build up to the rest of the year - the days get longer, animals and birds start to reappear slowly and poke their heads out - the world is moving toward renewal, not like it is in the fall where it is moving toward hibernation (I still love the fall!).
The day is also dawning bright on week #6 (already) of my journey. To date, I have lost just about 5 Ibs in 5 weeks. I know, I know, I shouldn’t be unhappy with that number. It’s a pound a week - and at the rate I’m going in a year I’ll be home free. But a part of me can’t help but wish for 2 Ibs losses - especially since this is just the beginning. I remember when I did weight watchers the last time, I lost between 1.5 and 2 Ibs a week pretty regularly until I got to the 180s.
But I forget I had a major backtrack week, and when you think about it that really means two weeks lost. If I hadn’t had the bad week, and lost 1.5 Ibs each week, I would be 3-4 Ibs ahead of where I am. I know I can’t look at it that way, and I don’t really. It just occurred to me that a bad week is really a loss of 2 weeks, not one. You have to recover ground you’ve already covered.
My sweetie is working on Thursday, so we are celebrating Valentine’s Day today. Instead of going out, I’m doing a nice steak dinner at home: Filet, fingerling potatoes, salad, peas/corn, and of course wine. Thinking about the week ahead, this seems to be the majorly decadent meal I have to contend with. But, thinking more specifically, it is just one day at a time.
I know I can do this. I know I can stay on track this week. It’s my TOM, but I should be OK - my PMS wasn’t bad at all…maybe it was because I had a terrible cold that distracted me. If I’m lucky and I stay focused, I’d love to see the scale get even close to 210.
210 has significance for me, because it was the heaviest I ever was at the time I did WW last. I was 22 years old, and after suffering a major depressive episode (undiagnosed at the time, but now I see it for what it was), I quit my job and at the same time vowed to get the weight off I had packed on during comfort eating. I thought 210 was just the end of the world - I couldn’t believe I was that large. Before then, 190 had been the limit and I was embarrassed to weigh over 200 Ibs.
Then, when I gained the weight back in 2010, I glided by 210 Ibs and stopped at my highest: 224. I spent 3 years of my life in limbo at around 220. Until I had enough and started all of this again.
I realized, looking at my disgust for 210, that we are always pushing the boundaries of our limits, whether we are aware of it or not. I thought I’d never get bigger than 210 - I thought wrong because I wasn’t being vigilant. I feel like this is a major lesson I’ve learned.
So, for today, to get me closer to 210, I am having my usual breakfast, soup and one roll for lunch, and the aforementioned dinner.