It's been coming, I've known for days it was on its way, but it happened, finally.
I've lost 100 pounds.
It's a magical, if arbitrary, number. It's only one pound more than 99, and certainly less than my ultimate goal of 115, which is well within my sights now.
It's been a year since I started this part of my journey. After blowing two discs in my back and being generally miserable in my own skin, I knew it had to change. I found a great site and app, MyFitnessPal, where I could track everything I ate and did. I started walking, and then eventually started seeing a trainer.
I still see that trainer twice a week for strength work. It's expensive, yes, but it makes me accountable. Some days it's hard, and I'm sore and tired, but I can see and feel the results—and so can other people. That's a major driving force to keep me motivated when I don't really feel like working out.
In about twelve months, I've abandoned 100 pounds of ass, but I've also lost about 15% body fat. I'm now in an "acceptable" range of body fat percentage. My type 2 diabetes has been in remission for over six months. I'm no longer hypertensive and sometimes have issues with my blood pressure dropping too much. My resting heart rate is about 70, and I have to really try to get my rate above 120 when I'm working out. I'm off all meds, with the exception of the thyroid hormone I will likely always have to take, and Zantac because I drink too much coffee.
I started at an 1,800 calorie limit. Now it's about 1,250. I usually eat the calories I burn from working out, so most days I actually take in about 1,500 calories. If I'm hungry, I eat, even if it's over my prescribed limit for the day. Hunger is a sign your body needs something—it's dangerous to constantly deny those needs. I avoid refined sugar, because I know it will trigger a binge for me, though I still drink it in my coffee (plus real half-and-half, and I don't even count those calories). I eat good carbs, a lot of fruit and whole grains. I have days when I protein pack to help build muscle. And I almost always get at least 25 grams of fiber.
I am unquestionably smaller now than almost anyone who knows me has ever seen me. I'm three inches taller and a size slimmer than when I met DH and Tiff and Mo. Mo commented a couple of weeks ago, "I forget how freakishly tall you are until you look so skinny!"
The morning I hit the 50 pound mark, I caught my friend, Adam, online. He and I had talked at length about my weight and body image issues. He congratulated me and said, "Pretty soon, you'll be at 100. You'll be so damn skinny! You can do it!" I remember thinking that seemed so unattainable, such a distant goal that I couldn't imagine when it would actually happen. That was six months ago. And he hasn't seen me in 30 pounds now.
So I have a little more to go before I feel I will be completely comfortable. I will never be anything but a curvy Amazon. Not only am I okay with that, I like it. I don't want to be rail thin—I know my body could never support itself at 120 pounds.
I could be at my goal by the beginning of 2012. It'll be my luck that I finally get the body I want, and the Mayans turn out to be right. So I intend to enjoy the hell out of myself, with all the people I love. Even if the world does come to an end, I'll have had a year with the ass I always thought I deserved.
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