Back On The Wagon Again

My final weigh-in of 2018 looked a little something like this:

My first weigh-in of 2019 was looking kind of bleak after me making the decision not to track between Christmas and New Year’s. I had one week to lose the two pounds I managed to pack on during my post-surgery inactivity and holiday-season indulgences.

Yeah… it didn’t happen.

Jan 8: +1.4 lbs

On top of that, I managed to reach a new “Oh, shit” weight in the week after that, despite a return to tracking (most of the time). As it turns out, half-assed tracking is almost worse than not tracking at all, as I gave myself the false security of thinking I hadn’t done THAT bad… except I didn’t track the Marco’s cinnamon buns my son and I devoured on Fun Friday, and I may have only tracked half the pizza I really ate.

Something has to change. I feel uncomfortable in my skin and in my clothes. I don’t like the way I look or feel. It’s in my upper arms, my middle, my neck, my face. I want it GONE. And I have to want it bad enough to make it happen.

I knew this was coming, since I had some forced inactivity during the holiday season due to my surgery at the beginning of December. Still, it was within my power to have dealt with it better.

Coulda, woulda, shoulda, didn’t.

What matters now is what I do next.

I’ve had enough. Future Me deserves better.

Getting Back Under My Oh-Sh!t Weight

My lowest weight ever was 166 pounds, on April 16, 2016.

I hovered around 170 for the rest of that spring and summer. Come November, I started a slow and steady climb up the scale that wouldn’t quit until I reached my “Oh Shit” weight of 180 the following June.

Ever since then, I’ve been wavering around that Oh Shit weight, give or take a few pounds. I’ll have good weeks and not-so-good weeks, but the scale pretty much hovers in the same spot, on average. My Oh Shit weight has become more of a status quo, a fact of life. I live in my Oh Shit weight, so I may as well be comfortable with it.

This year has seen me regain some momentum in the right direction.

Graph of declining average monthly weight in 2018

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Vacation Epiphany

Last summer, I tried on my swimsuit(s) for the first time in about six years. Connor and I would be going to Dayton to visit my grandparents, and we’d be swimming in the hotel pool during our downtime. My tankinis from 2010 were at least a size too big… but the bikini top I’d worn a grand total of one time still fit, thanks to being a halter with ties at the back and neck. I didn’t have time to shop for a new suit; the bikini top (with a slightly oversized bottom) would have to do.

Surprisingly enough, the two-piece was very comfortable to wear (apart from me constantly tugging at the too-large bottoms). Mentally, it helped that Mom and Connor and I were the only people in the pool that afternoon — and Mom kept telling me how good I looked in my two-piece.

I started to believe it.

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