1. Got down to 159 pounds.
2. Wore a 2-piece swim suit.
3. Started dating a decent guy who liked bars. Worked out 0 times in June/July/August.
4. Gained 12 pounds.
5. Flew to Chicago solo for a Prince(!) concert.
6. Ran the Delaware Distance Classic 15k with approximately 2 weeks of preparation.
7. Totally destroyed my knee.
8. Won prize money in Fantasy Football pool by spending shameful amounts of time on my butt with my leg propped up watching and reading about football.
9. Gained 15 more pounds.
10. Broke up with decent guy.
11. Broke up with meat for Lent, but starting baking my own bread.
12. Gained 4 more pounds.
There. Twelve months in thirty seconds. I think that’s part of the reason why I haven’t posted anything in a long time. Not enough to write about. Plus, I got tired of thinking about weight loss. Clearly.
So I’m sure we mathematical geniuses calculated that I went from 161 pounds to 190 pounds. Yup. I did that. (I lost 6 pounds in the last 5 weeks, so I weigh 184 today.)
Do I sound nonchalant about packing on 29 pounds in 32 weeks after putting in all the hard work to lose it? I’m not. I was actually disgusted with myself for a long time. But y’all know the cycle. Disgusted = buy brownies + stuff face with brownies x lay on sofa. Horrible formula. So I shed the shame. Now time to shed the fat.
But I’m doing things a little differently this time. I realized that I’ve been an all-or-nothing type. Either I’m downing pints of Guinness and stacks of onion rings or I’m a shut-in fixated on all weight loss, all the time. I need to balance things out. Learn how to eat and live healthy in the real world. Anybody care to join me?