NO MORE MISTER FAT GUY

So Close, So Far

 

So I’ve been a little quiet of late, it’s true. Being so near my original goal weight of 179 and a BMI of under 25, and therefore officially no longer “overweight,” I haven’t wanted to jinx it. As always, the scales tell a fluctuating story, depending on the when, where, and how. But despite wanting to discount the good news, there is a bit of consensus around the number of 181, just two pounds shy of the goal, and down from 183 when I last checked in here. This is the weight, while not quite set in stone, that I can reliably say I now am.

 

This morning after an hour of really hard squash and two soaked shirts, I actually weighed in at under 180 on the gym scale, 179.5 to be specific. Then again that could mean that a water bottle later I’d be back over 180. Still, my eyes did get a bit wide when I saw that I’d crossed below that 180 threshold and reached a weight I hadn’t seen in more than a decade. The other morning, on the scale with the battery issue I’ve discussed here before (we’ve definitely decided it’s a heat thing), the morning was warm enough for me to get a rare a.m. digital readout of 181. For me, this one counts. This one was official.

 

Having lost seven or eight pounds in two months, or almost a pound a week, I do briefly wonder if I’ll keep losing and could there be a time when I would somehow want the losing to stop? Not that I need to get ahead of myself, or rather, I should only have such problems. Of course I still can’t help denying that the loss has occurred. Some are in denial about being fat, I’m in denial about perhaps now being thin, as if being the weight I really should and want to be is somehow "too good to be true."

 

I “blame” it on no longer doing as much lifting, and so the weight loss I’m seeing is merely loss of muscle, and thus doesn’t really count. Or, there’s a blip in the scale that will soon correct itself. Or, I’m bound to fall off the wagon at any moment and I will be the one doing the correcting by suddenly diving into all the foods I’ve so carefully been avoiding the last two months, unable to withstand such deprivation any longer, which is probably why I’ve been writing less about all this of late, again not wanting to jinx it. It’s one thing to announce you’re going to lose ten pounds in front of strangers and friends and not be able to do it; it’s far more humiliating, however, to lose the weight, only to put it all back on.

 

Perhaps what I really need to lose more than these last few pounds is this annoying Charlie Brown attitude, hoping against hope that Lucy won’t pull that football away as I go to kick it, but secretly knowing that, of course, she will.