Let me preface this by saying I don't own a scale. I can't stand them - never have. To have my life dictated by the number on that scale just doesn't work for me. Needless to say, when it comes time to then lose weight, knowing my current weight or how close I am to my target is a bit tricky.
I only use scales when I happen to find them. Otherwise, I use the fit of my clothes to see how well I am doing. Not exactly scientific, but when I have to hold up my "skinny" pants as I walk around a store, I KNOW that progress has been made. And that was me last Saturday, holdin' up my skinny pants. I felt so good I bought a candy bar and actually ate most (about 1/4 of it went to my daughter - not quite half but she is keeping me mostly on the straight and narrow!)
The only problem was, I didn't know where I was at. My doctor said to really stop at 170. That number seems HUGE to me, especially when I was 130 in high school, but I grew 2 more inches in college and the doctor says that 170 is my lowest healthy weight.
So imagine my surprise when I see a lone scale out of its box on a endcap selling a myriad of scales. "Come, test me out!" It calls to me, and I look around furtively. I don't want anyone else to see me getting on that scale - not for the number, but for using a product I'm not purchasing. It's like stealing knowledge.
I even kick off my sandals (every ounce I could spare was gone) and stepped on. 170.
I think I am going to hyperventilate. I hop off and head towards the front of the store to finish my shopping, but my head will not let me accept that number - it was too easy. I have to go back and confirm. I race back to the endcap, put the scale on the ground again, kick off my shoes again, and step on. 170. Oh. My. Goodness.
My moment of zen.
I have a friend who is a nutritionist, and she says that I could be about 5% of that on either side and still be OK, which again still seems a big number, but that means I could probably be down to 160-165 and still be OK. Lower than that, closer to 150, is really too low.
Either way, I have that moment of zen; that moment where I can sit back and say "I did it." No lingering 5 pounds left. No, " I need to fit into a size 8" - nope. I'm done, if I want. I made it.
The funny part is, lately I only exercise sporadically - some weeks I hit the 3x a week on the head, with some bonus push-ups, sit-ups, and extra walking thrown in. Some weeks I'm lucky if I get one walk in. And I haven't been the best eater - still only half, but half of a lot of junk is still a lot of junk. The thing that has kept it working is that 1/2 number. If I mess up exercise one week, my eating only 1/2 saves me. If I get some good workouts in, then yay me, I lose more that week. Out of all my sporadic workouts and lazy exercising, eating half has kept the weight loss train going.
I think I am going to get those size 8 jeans I've been saving and pull them out for a Mother's day dinner this weekend. It is also my birthday - next week - so Happy Birthday to me - this loss is the best gift. And I think I will use that birthday money to buy some new clothes.
Size 8s.
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