If there’s one thing I have enjoyed during this weight loss journey, it’s comparing the weight I’ve lost to actual things in the real world. Short of piling pounds of fat into a Radio Flyer wagon and pulling it around with me, a la Oprah, this gives me a way to almost make my weight loss tangible. It also puts it into perspective. Like, if I’ve had a lackluster week, I could say to myself “Yea, you maybe gained a little this week, but overall, you’ve lost Kim Kardashian’s engagement ring (the Kanye one) plus the studs she lost in the ocean in Bora Bora.
The picture below is this week’s visual representation of what I’ve lost. Let’s pretend it’s an actual bale of hay and not something my mom would buy off of Amazon to beef up her Fall windowscape.
In case you didn’t know, an actual of hay weighs 50 pounds.
ARE YOU PICKING UP WHAT I’M PUTTING DOWN?
I’VE LOST 50 POUNDS.
50.4, to be exact.
I used all of my most recent photos in my last post so nothing new to see here. I have to really start taking pictures of myself because frankly it’s all happening so fast that I’m sizing out of clothes almost as fast as I’m buying them and I’m finally getting to a point where I don’t absolutely hate everything I put on my body. Except when my old stand bys have gotten truly baggy and unwearable or when I look down and can’t find my chest. Being smaller chested is not a bad thing, but my bustline was never something that I would look at and say “ugh. go away”. I actually liked my chest, but they were the first things to jump ship so I guess feelings weren’t mutual. I know, I know these are not bad problems to have. The other thing is, to go back to the picture thing, I truly don’t get out much. And, as we all know, because I’ve said it no less than 900 times here, I don’t dress up for work. So all of my “play” clothes are kind of fancy, and since I don’t get out much, I don’t want to waste them doing nothing. My work clothes are suuuuper casual. Needless to say, I don’t always feel great leaving the house in the morning. I’m not 100% motivated to tszuj myself. It’s kind of driving me nuts, but only because I don’t want to fall into a lazy rut. I feel like I’m teetering.
My feelings about my face (and now my arms) are status quo. I don’t see a difference. Still a hard no to the gym too. I guess I’m at an impasse. The only thing that makes me OK with it is that I can’t see how the gym would directly help my chin. #nogymguilt.
Aunt Flo was supposed to stop by this week, but she missed her train, I guess. It’s not normal generally, but for me, it’s pretty much the norm. She comes routinely for a few months and then randomly not show up. Cool. The unfortunate thing is she has all of her baggage sent ahead of time so I’ve been feeling very blah and anxious for like two weeks already. Maybe a week and a half, let’s skip the dramatics for today. Either way, I haven’t felt like doing much more than working (I say that very loosely because no one FEELS like going to work), coming home, having dinner and watching Youtube until I fall asleep.
I feel like this post has gone very therapy session when it should be celebratory. For some reason, I find it easiest to write about my success in either a blog post or an instagram caption; it’s hard for me to talk about in person. Because of that, I feel like I’m robbing myself of celebration and that feeling of pride. I AM proud but everything feels so lackluster lately that it’s almost easy for me to sweep this under the rug. So to change gears here, I have to say again
I’VE LOST 50 POUNDS.
I was thinking about it in the shower this morning, because I do my best thinking in there, I’m finally at a point where I don’t have to worry as much about weight limits. Like, I’ve wanted for a loooong time now to book a helicopter tour of NYC. Let’s forget for a minute the time one crashed in the Hudson last year and the fact that they’re $250 for a 15 minute ride. My biggest fear was that they would tell me either I’m too big to get on or that if I bring someone (because all of my friends have an extra $16 A MINUTE to spare), we wouldn’t be able to ride together. To be honest, folding chairs would give me slight anxiety. Those thoughts are finally starting to tuck themselves away. They’ll never pull a Bing Bong and disappear, but they’ll be easier to squash.
It’s taken me no less than 502 hours to write this because my head is just not in the game (obvs) so it’s time to go to bed.
Love you, mean it.