I keep thinking I'm in a weird plateau and have stopped losing weight because I spend days and days bouncing around in a 2-3 pound range that centers on what I weighed the previous month. And then at the end of the month, all of a sudden I drop 2 or 3 pounds and blammo, successful month!
This has been the routine for the past 4 months or so, and to be honest, it's getting tiring. That scale keeps playing with my emotions, taunting me into thinking I'm done now, thanks! This past month has been the most frustrating because I've been hovering in the 200-202 range for weeks and weeks. Somedays I'm up to 202, somedays I'm down to 200. Never less than 200 though! That's not allowed, apparently.
I enjoyed my 4th of July weekend immensely anyways. There was lazy coffee on Friday with my husband, followed by a movie with my mother-in-law and a barbecue with the whole damn family over at my moms, topped off by awesome fireworks. We ate out for almost every single meal we ate this weekend, I had wine with dinner, we went out to our favorite bakery for dessert....twice! (I am addicted to their Spiced Chai tea...a pot of that and a tea cookie or two and I'm a happy girl!) I took a lot of naps on the couch with kitties sprawled over me, and the only exercise I got was an afternoon spent playing in the hotel pool where my mother-in-law was staying.
In other words, it was an awesomely perfect weekend, complete with temperatures in the low 70's and lots of time in the sun.
Of course, I figured the constant eating out and wine indulgences and dessert indulgences would mean disaster for me. And considering that my one year anniversary is on Wednesday, I wanted to see what kind of damage I had to undo.
Needless to say, I nearly hyperventilated when I looked down and saw not 202, not 200 but 198.7 on the scale. (I also made some rather loud noises that may have left my neighbors to wonder exaclty what I was doing, all alone in my apartment.) I was shocked, to say the least.
But when I told my husband about how amazed I was, that I had lost all this weight despite all the eating out and wine and coffee and slackiness, he pointed out that I really never ate that much at any of our meals, that I got full really fast. And you know, he's right. I do get full very fast. I can eat whatever the hell I want (to a point) but I just can't eat much of it. Call it pouch awareness, call it working the tool, call it whatever the hell you want. All I know is that a year later, it's still working for me. It's still keeping me from pounding down 3000 calories in one meal, it's still keeping me from binging, and I still feel fucking awesome.
And to celebrate all that, I got a tattoo. It was an expensive, painful, time intensive tattoo, but it turned out so beautiful. People compliment me on it every day, even though they have no idea what it represents to me. I told Kevin last year that I wanted to get a tattoo either when I'd lost 100 pounds or when I hit one year out. (I was really hoping it would be the 100 pound mark that came first.) From my highest, I'm down 119 pounds. Since the day of my surgery, I've lost 101. I've lost 75% of my excess weight and I'm still losing, slowly but surely. The last 38 pounds I want to lose are totally doable.
I think that I can definitely be added to Dr. Mueller's list of success stories when I see him on Thursday for my one year check up. If only he had a Wall of Fame! Maybe I'll just make one of my own in my living room.
This has been the routine for the past 4 months or so, and to be honest, it's getting tiring. That scale keeps playing with my emotions, taunting me into thinking I'm done now, thanks! This past month has been the most frustrating because I've been hovering in the 200-202 range for weeks and weeks. Somedays I'm up to 202, somedays I'm down to 200. Never less than 200 though! That's not allowed, apparently.
I enjoyed my 4th of July weekend immensely anyways. There was lazy coffee on Friday with my husband, followed by a movie with my mother-in-law and a barbecue with the whole damn family over at my moms, topped off by awesome fireworks. We ate out for almost every single meal we ate this weekend, I had wine with dinner, we went out to our favorite bakery for dessert....twice! (I am addicted to their Spiced Chai tea...a pot of that and a tea cookie or two and I'm a happy girl!) I took a lot of naps on the couch with kitties sprawled over me, and the only exercise I got was an afternoon spent playing in the hotel pool where my mother-in-law was staying.
In other words, it was an awesomely perfect weekend, complete with temperatures in the low 70's and lots of time in the sun.
Of course, I figured the constant eating out and wine indulgences and dessert indulgences would mean disaster for me. And considering that my one year anniversary is on Wednesday, I wanted to see what kind of damage I had to undo.
Needless to say, I nearly hyperventilated when I looked down and saw not 202, not 200 but 198.7 on the scale. (I also made some rather loud noises that may have left my neighbors to wonder exaclty what I was doing, all alone in my apartment.) I was shocked, to say the least.
But when I told my husband about how amazed I was, that I had lost all this weight despite all the eating out and wine and coffee and slackiness, he pointed out that I really never ate that much at any of our meals, that I got full really fast. And you know, he's right. I do get full very fast. I can eat whatever the hell I want (to a point) but I just can't eat much of it. Call it pouch awareness, call it working the tool, call it whatever the hell you want. All I know is that a year later, it's still working for me. It's still keeping me from pounding down 3000 calories in one meal, it's still keeping me from binging, and I still feel fucking awesome.
And to celebrate all that, I got a tattoo. It was an expensive, painful, time intensive tattoo, but it turned out so beautiful. People compliment me on it every day, even though they have no idea what it represents to me. I told Kevin last year that I wanted to get a tattoo either when I'd lost 100 pounds or when I hit one year out. (I was really hoping it would be the 100 pound mark that came first.) From my highest, I'm down 119 pounds. Since the day of my surgery, I've lost 101. I've lost 75% of my excess weight and I'm still losing, slowly but surely. The last 38 pounds I want to lose are totally doable.
I think that I can definitely be added to Dr. Mueller's list of success stories when I see him on Thursday for my one year check up. If only he had a Wall of Fame! Maybe I'll just make one of my own in my living room.
2 Comments:
Wow, what a huge fantastic amazing accomplishment!! I'm gunning for 200 or less by the end of August, but everybody says that the last few pounds around 200 just hover endlessly. You make it look so smooth and easy! :)
Your tattoo is beautiful!
Congratulations!! and your tattoo is really gorgeous. I love it.
Post a Comment
<< Home