Yay! I’m overweight again! So says my trusty obesity calculator. It’s hard to believe that just two months ago (and for the past several years), I was languishing in the abyss of obese. That dark, bottomless pit that had me trapped and grappling to pull myself out with faddy crash diets. Each time I failed, I’d fall a little deeper down that horrible hole. Compared to obese, overweight feels great!
My husband hugged me the other day and excitedly remarked how thin I’m getting. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. If I had looked like this ten years ago, he would have abruptly summoned the pudge-panic patrol. I guess I’ve trained him well.
It’s still hard to believe that in just three weeks I’ve lost an amazing 20 pounds! All the while drinking empty calories and eating full-fat foods. I will eat anything I want, just not everything I want. Meaning, today I’ll have some potato chips. Tomorrow or the day after I’ll have hot chocolate. It’s comforting to know that I can have it all; just not all at once. Not that I’m lounging around all day stuffing myself with bacon double cheeseburgers and kegs of Coke. But I am refusing to gag down plain yogurt, oatmeal and Brussels sprouts.
There is one thing that is troubling me, though. It’s been nearly a week and I have plateaued at 162 pounds. I thought at the rate of losing 20 pounds in three weeks, I could be at my target weight in just another six weeks. Then I read that for every 10 pounds you lose, your metabolism diminishes by blah, blah percent. So I must now become a slave to the demands of this fickle fiend called metabolism. I don’t want to fall back into the abyss, but I refuse to compromise my food.
I am not averse to exercise, but truth be told, if I had a choice between I Walk, I Run or I Jog, I’d say NONE and head to I-Hop. But if I need to do some walking so I can keep on eating, it’s reassuring to know I can always fall back on good ol’ Dusty, my treadmill and intermittent companion for the past 13 years.
Through thick and thin, fat and (sort of) slim, rain or shine, she’s never let me down. Although she spends much of her time on standby as a clothes hanger, towel rack or storage unit, I know can always come back to my favourite conveyor belt.
See you later, calculator!
The Abyss of Obese
Yay! I’m overweight again! So says my trusty obesity calculator. It’s hard to believe that just two months ago (and for the past several years), I was languishing in the abyss of obese. That dark, bottomless pit that had me trapped and grappling to pull myself out with faddy crash diets. Each time I failed, I’d fall a little deeper down that horrible hole. Compared to obese, overweight feels great!
My husband hugged me the other day and excitedly remarked how thin I’m getting. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. If I had looked like this ten years ago, he would have abruptly summoned the pudge-panic patrol. I guess I’ve trained him well.
It’s still hard to believe that in just three weeks I’ve lost an amazing 20 pounds! All the while drinking empty calories and eating full-fat foods. I will eat anything I want, just not everything I want. Meaning, today I’ll have some potato chips. Tomorrow or the day after I’ll have hot chocolate. It’s comforting to know that I can have it all; just not all at once. Not that I’m lounging around all day stuffing myself with bacon double cheeseburgers and kegs of Coke. But I am refusing to gag down plain yogurt, oatmeal and Brussels sprouts.
There is one thing that is troubling me, though. It’s been nearly a week and I have plateaued at 162 pounds. I thought at the rate of losing 20 pounds in three weeks, I could be at my target weight in just another six weeks. Then I read that for every 10 pounds you lose, your metabolism diminishes by blah, blah percent. So I must now become a slave to the demands of this fickle fiend called metabolism. I don’t want to fall back into the abyss, but I refuse to compromise my food.
I am not averse to exercise, but truth be told, if I had a choice between I Walk, I Run or I Jog, I’d say NONE and head to I-Hop. But if I need to do some walking so I can keep on eating, it’s reassuring to know I can always fall back on good ol’ Dusty, my treadmill and intermittent companion for the past 13 years.
Through thick and thin, fat and (sort of) slim, rain or shine, she’s never let me down. Although she spends much of her time on standby as a clothes hanger, towel rack or storage unit, I know can always come back to my favourite conveyor belt.
See you later, calculator!