Ugh
 

275 when 9 months pregnant. I lost all of it, all the way down to 178.

10 years and another baby, my highest non pregnant weight was 248.

274 at 5' 4.5". That translates to tight 22W (gotta squeeze into the control-top pantyhose so I don't have to replace ALL my work clothes) or lose 24W (I like my jeans comfy - to the point of not needing to unbutton them to take them off, so I constantly look rumpled when I wear them. So hot!).

When I realized I weighed MORE THAN the Other Human, I cried. The only other time I've cried over the number on a scale was after my first Weight Watchers meeting. (268, which was the highest weight I'd been at the time.)

I don't think I weighed myself for years while I was in denial...but once I faced the reality of my problem, my weigh in showed 275 at 5'7". Never want to see that again - I look at my scale and take great joy in the distance between the current numbers and the past. (Now if I can just get myself out of the "twos" and into "onederland")

My highest weight is right now :cry:
I weighed the other day, and it was 239.

Just horrid :no:
I'm five foot nothing.

Linda

My highest (that I know of) was 200. Unfortunately, just "seeing" that number did not serve as a catalyst to get me up and moving -- I stayed at that weight for several years, pigging out literally every night in front of the TV -- never even acknowledged to my husband that I was fat, and certainly didn't tell him my actual weight!

My highest recorded weight was when I started posting here in November and that was 238...though I'm sure it got up into the 240s for a while and I'm about 5'4". It was really a spiral of events over the past year that brought me to realize it just had to change or I would probably manage to kill myself by the time I turned 30. I had gained 30lbs in just under a year and was living off burritos, Chinese takeout and wine. I will never go back to that again...I like the direction the scale is going much better now not to mention being without a daily hangover!

Unlike most people I have come to be ok with publicly admitting my weight in most situations (although I would die before I told my mother the actual numbers). About half way through grad school (year and 1/2 ago) I always found myself in some sort of half-a**ed attempt at trying to lose weight... none of which ever stuck and I would always end up in conversations with thin girlfriends about food and weight etc. I got so sick of them telling me that I looked fine, and that I wasn't fat blah blah blah...and really they were either trying to be extremely nice or were completely blind. I got fed up with them guessing that I weighed 180lbs....it wasn't getting me anywhere except to continue lying to myself about my weight and ordering another drink and round of nachos... so one day I spit it out....you would have thought I'd told them I'd killed their dogs... you could hear their jaws hit the sidewalk! I've said it out loud a lot since then and it is so difficult to say but also makes me face it. I frame it differently now...for instance when I'm talking to coworkers etc I'll say '2lbs down.....80 more to go....so no I don't need anything from Maggiano's for lunch' and they'll go 80...are you crazy...and I'll say 'no I'm very serious' ... then they get it and lay off.

One thing I've found that is working for me is that by saying it outloud I in some way own it...every lb, inch, bad habit, bad judgment......I'm owning it, recognizing it and consciously changing it.

270 at 5'6"

284 was my highest. In 8 months, through healthy changes, a positive approach and a **** of a lot of discipline, I managed to lose 78 pounds, getting down to 206 -- then I got diagnosed with cancer (Hodgkins Disease, a form of lymphoma) and after 6 months of heavy chemo (read: inactivity) and steroids I'd gotten back up to about 230-235, if memory serves. After treatment's end I gave two earnest efforts to lose again; unfortunately no matter what I did, nothing came off, so I got demotivated. Turns out it's extremely difficult to lose for a while after ending treatment for some very straightforward physiological reasons, and this was perfectly normal. So sad that I took it to heart! :halffull: Over the next year, I put on another 10-15 pounds, ending up at 245 when I found out that my cancer had returned. That meant I was headed for a stem cell transplant (a type of bone marrow transplant) which was going to be sure ****, with no taste buds and skank mouth for a couple of months -- and it only had a 50% chance of curing me. So in a state of fear and dread, and in an unspoken sort of spirit of "this is my last supper!" I ate really irresponsibly for the three months leading up to my transplant. (It's a process, with a couple of months of chemo, then radiation, some other transplant-related stuff, and then you go in the hospital for a month, followed by a year of recuperation and many long-term effects.) By the time I was admitted, I was up to 266. :eek: How depressed do you think I was??? :cry: The good news is that the transplant and it's aftermath took 30 pounds off me in pretty short order (gotta love the silver lining, eh?? Even if it's a hellish process.) Then I regained 5 -- and now this last week -- my first week back on plan -- I lost those.

So that's my tale of woe. ;) The first gain (from the steroids) I don't own. The second? Absolutely. And my learning from this experience? I've learned that even if I was happy living on plan (and I WAS) I hadn't yet fully learned not to consider food a reward. I knew it when I was healthy and on plan, but when the bleep hit the fan and I was faced with a life or death situation, I somehow reverted back to a place where I thought it was ok to just eat whatever I wanted, with no thought to the consequences. I regret it, but what are you going to do? You just have to look within that regret for the learning and leave the pain of it behind, taking with you only that which is helpful and productive. It's hard, but it's possible.

So I guess that was the long answer. ;) The short answer? 284.