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Finally 16 weeks, 14 pounds and I broke through the first mental block barrier. I had to weigh myself 6 times this morning just to make sure. I thought hitting this number would make me happier. Don't misunderstand, I am happy and lighter. It's just a lot harder and taking longer than I thought. Then there was someone this week who asked if I had lost weight. I thanked her for noticing, but couldn't help wonder how huge I must have been for her to make a comment.
When I was in my mid-20s, and needed to drop a pound or two, I wouldn't eat for a day. Not that I ate much anyway. My eating habits were atrocious. I didn't eat breakfast, just had a cup of tea. Lunch was usually a can of soda and something out of the snack machine at work. If I was travelling to a client, I'd skip lunch so I could bolt home an hour early. I did go out for lunch with the fellas I worked with or dinner out. Fast food. I was also hustling tennis games at the club where I hung out.
I've been trying so hard to follow my plan. An old WW exchange plan. 2 milk, 2 fruit, 3 or more veg, 4-6 bread, and 3-5 oz. protein per day. I also have an extra 700 calories per week (This takes care of real sugar in tea or a special treat) Roughly it works out to a 1200 - 1500 calorie diet. I try to weigh and measure. I used to write down what I ate, but now just keep a running tally in my head. It's so much work and sometimes I find my self obsessing about what I can eat next or how many of something I have left to eat. I'm also frustrated by the gain a pound, lose a pound, gain 2, lose one, plateau, my body seems to go through. I also try to walk the treadmill every morning. Half an hour at 3mph, a little over a mile and a quarter. Sometimes I play with the incline and walk up hill both ways. Today, I increased the walking speed by .2 mph. My little legs were flying!
What I really want is to "have lost weight". To have the commercial of me standing next to my beach ball before picture and me now in my cute, tight jeans. Voila! I lost x number of pounds. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.
I think I need to find a thin picture of me. The me at the end of the tunnel. Something tangible to aim for. Me and my first car, Hubbell, a '79 Mustang. (No, I don't plan on getting down to that weight again. At 53, it's unrealistic, and I doubt I could maintain it.) Look at those tube socks, can't get much cooler than that.
What are the things you are doing to keep yourself motivated and on track?