3.6 pounds lost last week. Yep. 13.6 to date. Approximately 1 pound to go until Goal #1 is met...and you know I am itching to put in my Amazon order for Kaelyn's toys. I'm at the edge there with the scale, where that second number is sooo close to decreasing by one. I'm also sooo close to having under 60 pounds to lose. Now. 60 pounds is a lot, but 59 pounds sounds like so much less than 73.8, doesn't it?
Oh and I have my official "before" jeans. I wore them before I started this McFatty Monday business and have been wearing them ever since. It was an awkward fit to start because my hips widened quite a bit during pregnancy and then there's the bell-ay, which looks a bit like a deflated balloon. (Sorry for that mental image, but seriously, what's to be expected after growing a human in your stomach?) Anyways, back to these "before" jeans. I tried to put them on yesterday. They will not stay up. They fell down even button and zipped. What's better? I pulled out my jeans I so very much want to get back into. I have a pair that's several sizes smaller than the "before" jeans and they almost button. Now, these are one of the anomalies of the fashion world, where the sizes are off and in this case, a little bigger than the standard size, but they almost button and this is such a positive psychological boost for me. Not to mention yet another motivating factor for me to get my booty (not to mention thighs) back into them. I think another 10 or 15 pounds and they'll fit, you know, without me feeling like I'm squeezed into them like sausage in casing. (Again, sorry for the mental image.) The other interesting part of this is the thought of what size I could potentially be wearing when all is said and done. Several sizes smaller than these jeans I'm dying to fit into now. Boo-yah.
So I'm feeling pretty good mentally--physically, well, I'm fighting off yet another sinus/cold thing. I had this a couple of weeks ago. Little's been fighting it this weekend, poor baby, and I of course picked it up from her because my immune system fights like a hog-tied Pomeranian. Which I do not condone or support in any way, shape or form. Just in an odd little mood this morning.
Something I've noticed is that I have a much different relationship with the scale. I'm a borderline-obsessive when it comes to weighing myself. The Hubs will tell you how I sneak over to the scale at night, which isn't in any way accurate. I think it's curiosity or the scientific-minded side of myself. (Is that the right or left half of the brain?) I know that it's likely that if my weight before bed one night is less than previous nights that common sense would say that I should weigh less at my official weigh-ins in the mornings, yes? Plus I just like to know.
I don't fear the scale anymore. I hated the scale before. During pregnancy, I'd roll my eyes up and away so I didn't have to see the nurse scooching that darn bar further up. (Well until I had a pre-eclampsia scare, swelled up like a marshmallow and felt a victory at losing 10 pounds of water in a weekend of eating seriously low-sodium foods.) Having the avoidance mentality when it came to the scale left me in the dark about how bad I was letting the situation get (even before I was pregnant--thus the 20 pounds of post-wedding weight). This was not healthy for me, physically or mentally. I like being in the know with what's going on with my body and my weight, even though I know weight naturally fluctuates during the day, week, and month. (Aren't hormones lovely?) I accept these fluctuations, but the pattern is what I pay attention to and this week, the pattern. was. awesome. There's a lot of debate about how often to weigh yourself. Some say once a week. Some say not to go by the scale. I weigh myself pretty often. Typically twice a day. Sometimes more. It works for me. I don't get down on myself--not as much as I would before, but like this blog and the McFatty Monday phenomenon, it keeps me accountable.
A few weeks ago, I told the Hubs how I'm glad I'm posting about my weight loss on the blog. It's public and all the world can see, though I can assure you, based on Google Analytics, the world does not read my blog. The point is that I publicly stated that I had 73 pounds to lose. I feel like I publicly admitted my problem. That I struggle with my weight, but I also publicly stated that I am not going to live with this anymore. That I am making changes to make myself feel better and be healthier. That I will get to a weight I'm happier with, that makes me feel good about myself. I think the importance of doing this so publicly is that I know myself. With this amount of pressure, I'm not going to slack off. I'm not going to just stop. It's different than just casually saying I'm going to lose weight or telling myself I want to. I'm doing it. I made it purposely so that if I'm not following through, I feel shame showing my face. Because I made a huge deal out of the fact that I want to be a role model for Little and I refuse to back down on that--though that's true regardless of this being public. It's just a different feeling this time--like I know down to my core that I won't go back to where I was. I will reach my goal.