Today was the first time someone outside my family noticed that I’ve lost weight.
My friend and coworker turned to me today and asked if I had lost some weight. I had decided that if anyone asked directly, I would just tell them. Otherwise I figured I was operating under a “don’t ask, don’t tell” kinda policy (except with less homophobia). I told her that I’d lost about 23 lbs (hey, I’m allowed to round up) and she looked shocked.
In my head, I’m not impressed by that number at all. I have so far to go and so much to lose that I hear the number “23” and I am really thinking, “that’s just a FRACTION of the weight I want to lose!”. It’s really not that fair to me. Even though I still have a long way to go, I’ve come so far already. I’ve lost almost a quarter of a hundred pounds, which is no small potatoes! I need to work on thinking more of my accomplishments because this kind of uphill gazing is detrimental to my efforts, don’t you think?
I’m in this for the long haul, I really and truly believe that, but part of me is waiting for my inevitable fuck up. I keep thinking that at some point I will feel “safer”, like I’ve been doing it long enough or doing well enough that I can let my guard down a bit.
The thing with weight loss, is that if you are someone who struggles with your weight, I get the feeling that you can never let your guard down. You can never relax and just flow because it’s a constant battle. This is kinda depressing to think about too. I really hope that I can look forward to a future where I don’t constantly obsess over food, good or bad for me as it may be, but I don’t think that’s going to be the case. Wrapping my head around that fact is at least half of the battle.