Back in August last year, at one of the last meetings I attended, I announced to my WW leader that I had lost 50kg.
“Fifteen kilos? Oh, Ren! That’s great!”
“Err… No. Fifty. Five-Oh.”
“Yuh huh.” You couldn’t have pulled the pleased smirkyface I was doing off for love nor money. I was so chuffed to finally get that goal.
About a month later, my leader handed me an official certificate congratulating me for my efforts. It now resides with my 10% keyring … in a drawer with my weigh-in books.
And pretty much from the day of getting that certificate it’s been a slow, upwards climb in the numbers on the scale. Suddenly I was back at -49, then -47.5… then, a particularly low point, -43. That week it was mostly due to emotional feasting on cheese and bread which now hates my guts. Literally. Can’t eat bread anymore.
The point is I wasn’t the coveted -50 anymore and it sucked.
Sucked big, chocolate salty balls – and I hate salted chocolate.
Salted caramels? Lovely. Salted chocolate? WHUT?
Every time I looked at that certificate I felt like a fraud. Every time I logged into WW and saw that little star with the 50 in it, I felt ashamed of myself and my lack of self control and persistence.
For the past couple weeks I’ve been back, I’ve taken the bull by the horns – or the fat girl by the love-handles, as it were – and made a concentrated, determined effort to eat well, eat healthy and move my arse.
It’s worked. Things seem to be moving again. It makes me happy to think that maybe by Christmas I’ll be lighter than when I was in middle high school and fitter than I’ve ever been.
My goal at the moment – my only goal – is just to lose something every week. Doesn’t matter what, just something. I am not setting any big numbers anymore. I refuse to set myself up for a fall.
My goals have now shift from a number on the scale to doing something I would have been horrified at the thought of a few years ago but now, in some freakishly twisted way, look forward to…
THAT is my end goal. Fit enough to do 20km worth of killer obstacle courses.