I remember the first time I thought I was “Fat.” I was in New Look in Oxford while at Uni, and had to wear a size 20 pair of jeans. I bought a magazine that had “loose a stone a week” plan, (or something like that) tried it for a day, and cried in my room because it was so horrible. I think I’ve been paranoid about it all ever since.
I also remember the first time I fit into a size 10 pair of pants. I was so excited in the changing room I actually squeeked. The assistant asked me if I was ok. Of course I bloody was, size 10 was something magical and mythical, I’d only taken the pants into the changing room to see if I could get more than one leg in, and get it to go more than a couple of inches above my knee.
I also remember, when I was almost at my “goal” weight, thinking “I feel no different” and “I’m just the same, but I need a belt.” I’m not sure what I was expecting exactly, but I think planets were suppose to align and SJP should have called me up to guest on Sex in The City, or something. Something was supposed to happen, I was sure of it. Instead I just had to carry on with my job and real life,and all that mundane stuff that never happened on TV.
I started this graph with Beeminder on 8th November 2010, and I was 15st 3.5lbs, it was not long after my son was born, and I didn’t like how much weight I’d put on, and still hadn’t lost the weight I’d put on from my first pregnancy. The lowest weight I’ve ever gotten down to is 12st 8.4lbs, in April 2012, I ran my best ever 5k at 33min was probably the fittest I’ve been for a long time. Yesterday 13st 7lbs at a Weight Watchers class. (That’s BMIs of 34.5, aka Obese, 28.5 aka Overweight, and currently 30.4, back in at Obese.)
It’s got three memberships to Weight Watchers, at least 2 gym memberships, a Slim Fast attempt, some weird restrictive diets, a couple of months of obsessively tracking what I ate in several different ways to compare them for “reasons” (or possibly “For Science” I don’t know), a few months of “I will simply eat healthy!” and at least four tantrums where I’ve just ate all the things I could get into my face. (They might also have be about the same time as Christmas.)
It’s also got three marathons, a wedding, a few 10k races, two gym memberships, and lots more in there. Sometimes I forget that.
I needed to take a walk down the weight loss road of my memory lane.
It’s been on my mind since I’ve been back at Weight Watchers. I’ve lost 5lbs in 11 weeks. I’ve been getting twisted up in my head, because of others who’ve lost that (and more) in just one week. I’ve been getting all kinds of teenager sulking (in my head) about how much other people have lost, instead of just paying attention to what I’m eating.
I’m reminding myself that there’s more to this weight loss thing than just the numbers. The numbers on the scale, the numbers in the food journal and the numbers in my clothes.
I’m reminding myself that there’s nothing magical about reaching the goal weight, and that I’m not going to get S.H.I.E.L.D Level 7 clearance if I loose another stone, and there’s actually no real schedule for this either, so I should just stop stressing.