Six years, three months and 24 days ago, I joined Weight Watchers. When I stepped on the scale, I weighed 196 pounds. This was after three weeks of "dieting" and sort of following their online program. So I'm guessing my starting weight was actually over 200 pounds. Shocking. I had no idea at the time—and might not have even started if I had known—that it would take me those 2,308 days to get here.
To be fair it did take me from the age of 18 to 26 to go from 135 pounds when I graduated high school to 196 pounds on that day in May. So eight years to go up and less than six years to go back down. My hope is that because of the time it has taken me and the way I've lost the weight, gradually changing my habits again and again and again, that I won't put it back on ever again.
So, where am I today? The lowest weight I've gotten to on this weight loss "journey" was 142 pounds last summer. Between stress and training for my third marathon, I very briefly managed to have that number appear on the scale. Once. Since October of last year, I packed pounds back on, getting all the way back to 158, a number I never thought I would see again. I nearly wanted to cry when I finally faced up to the fact that I had done this to myself again through burying my head in the sand and eating whatever the fuck I wanted to. Most of my new "skinny" clothes, bought at between 144 - 147, were either insanely tight or not fitting at all.
I felt the weight gain in the strangest places, too. It wasn't just around my belly and thighs, which are always problem areas. My upper arms were thicker and some of my favourite slim fitting shirts were a no-go for wearing.
Yet, still I did virtually nothing about it. I haphazardly tossed in a run here and there, had a couple of good eating days, followed by bad ones. Didn't really count calories or really measure portions. In short, I half-assedly tried to lose weight all summer—but not really.
Then in late July, early August, a couple of things happened. One, my period was a week late, which never happens, and I was convinced that I was preggers. I was simultaneously freaked out and thrilled. Freaked out because it wasn't planned and my husband and I have an agreement that once I reach my 135 goal weight, we would try. Thrilled because all of the sudden that biological clock, which I was sure wouldn't affect me, was affecting me. And I want a baby. Now.
Then a week—and four negative pregnancy tests later—my period came and I felt a little sad and empty. Around that same time, we went to Minnesota to visit my best friend and favourite running buddy. We started every morning with a run together, just like old times, chatting away the entire three to five miles.
When I got back home, with new momentum from running every day and new motivation for getting to 135 once and for all, I decided to keep it going.
That was 30 days ago today. In that time, I've dropped 8.5 pounds, logged 118 miles and now fit in all my clothes again. Plus, I'm only 8 pounds from my 135 lb. goal. In the next 30 days, my goal is to drop the remaining 8 pounds, plus a little extra for insurance. My goal remains 135, but I'd like to maintain between 132 and 135.
So I'm on Day 2 of my final weight loss plan. For reals. I leave for London on a work trip on October 11, one month from today. When I depart, I will be 134 lbs. or less. To shock and awe my body into dropping the last and hardest bit of weight, I'm adding the Skinny Girl Diet and JM 30-Day Shred to my current weight loss plan of lots of running and clean eating.
I've never been this focused and dedicated or felt this much resolve in all my 2,308 days of weight loss. I know this is it. This is the time to lose it. I'm keeping this journal to track myself, my food, my weight, my runs and how I feel through all of it so I can look back and see what I've done. If I can do it, anyone can.
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