Today is my 8 month surgiversary.
As of today, I weigh 169 pounds. I have lost 121 pounds (102 since surgery).
My BMI is 25.7, down from 44.
I’m about 5 pounds from “normal” BMI (whatever relevance you give this number)
I lost 11 pounds this month, making it the ninth month in a row I’ll pulled double digits (-11 for the last three months in a row)
I lost 37% of my excess weight this month - that number gets bigger and bigger as the amount I have to lose gets smaller and smaller, obviously.
I lost 6% of my total body weight this month. That seems like quite a lot.
My current, rather flexible goal weight is 150, which is now within shouting distance.
I feel like I’ve achieved most of my lifestyle goals. I can do the things I want to now without pain or discomfort, being out of breath, or feeling self-conscious.
~~~(With the exception of swimming. *prepare for long, whiny complaining ahead* My legs look pretty awful to me - I know I’m thinner, and I should be proud of my body, but I am not now, nor have I ever been, happy with my legs. I still haven’t bought a bathing suit. I need to, since it’s getting to be bathing suit weather here now. I had a dream last night that I went to the beach with a bunch of people I’ve met here at work. They were all swimming, and I was sitting on the beach, alone, feeling sorry for myself that I didn’t have a bathing suit because I would be too self-conscious in it. This is not hard dream to analyze. Two groups of my colleagues are off on bathing suit related adventures this weekend, ones that would probably be awesome but that I didn’t want to go on. I hope the next 20 pounds brings me a little peace of mind in this area. Part of it is my general self-consciousness, but another part is pure 100% pride: I know my legs don’t look good, and I don’t want anyone to see them. I don’t feel like I can just “get over it” and come to terms with my appearance. And no, it’s not body dysmorphia. My legs do, indeed, look wobbly and cellulitey, and whatever the opposite of toned and fit is. Even when I was a runner and much thinner than I am now, they did not look good. This seems like a petty complaint, but it’s pretty central to my sense of self. I have always been ashamed of my legs, like since I was a kid. So I’m hoping the next 20 pounds will do something magical. Yes, I'm trying hard to keep in mind being thankful for my health and that I have a pair of good, functioning legs that take me where I want to go. I told you this would be whiny, and it is. It is not a feeling I am proud of, but it is an honest feeling, so I'm sharing it.)~~~
I stopped running this week. The first week, everything felt fine. The second week, my knees felt a little achey after the first couple of days, and on the third day of running, they hurt. They kept hurting after I stopped running, and still feel a little achey now. ACL achey is not something I want to play around with, so I’m back to walking fast and lifting weights. It stinks because I was kind of getting in the groove with the running, going at a decent pace, and my body was feeling really good from it (well, other than my ACLs). I’ve kicked up my walking pace to varying between 4-4.3 mph, which is a pretty fast clip and gets my heart going pretty well. I figure 45 to 60 minutes of that is adequate for cardio, and with some weights thrown in, that’s enough to get in decent shape. This will do for now, and I’ll look back into running in another 20 pounds. Maybe that’s light enough to not hurt myself. Why do I keep saying "in another 20 pounds"? It sounds like this 150 GW I have in mind is taking on some psychological significance I didn't mean it to.
I went out to dinner last night with a group and had some lovely coconut curry prawns, and I don’t think anyone at the table noticed my weird eating at all - I ate most of the prawns, lots of the curry sauce, and none of the rice it was served with. It was very tasty. I had a couple of glasses of wine (probably should have stopped at one, but oh well). I passed on the dessert - a big group at the table next to us had a huge birthday cake, and were apparently impressed with the level of gusto with which we sang happy birthday to a stranger, and sent over slices of cake for everyone at our table. Cake is not my thing, so that wasn’t hard, and I just pushed mine toward the garbage disposal, I mean my husband, who ate most of my share. He’s very handy for situations like these. (He’s actually lost about 30 pounds since I started this whole process, so I’m apparently not using him as my personal garbage disposal too often.) It was a good evening that showed me how easy it can be to eat what I need to eat without having to answer any questions or get weird looks. None of these people know me as anything other than what I look like now, so they will learn to accept my tiny meals as normal for me. And as I looked around at the people I was eating with, I guessed that I was probably the thinnest one at the table. None of them are very big, but just a little more overweight than me. Very strange.