As of a couple weeks ago I have lost 40 pounds. I may or may not be a pound or two heavier after spending 5 days at my parents’ house and eating more than my share of a Dairy Queen ice cream cake for my dad’s birthday. But that’s fine. It was delicious, and when will I have it again? Probably not soon.
As expected, my weight loss is creeping along at a very slow rate now. I’m getting a little sloppy about keeping my calorie count under 1400 per day. I feel like I need to re-focus and figure out some other things to eat besides my current repetoire or I’m going to fall farther off track. None of these things are a surprise. This is how it goes. The simple fact is that food is delicious and it makes me happy, but I am rarely satisfied with what is considered a reasonable amount. A voice in my head keeps telling me to push the MORE FOOD button in the laboratory maze of my life, and some days I listen.
Most days I make myself ignore that voice (with varying degrees of success), because on the whole I’m feeling really good. As I lose weight I find myself walking more, because I have more energy. If the weather is decent and I’m wearing comfortable shoes I will often walk about a mile on my way home from work instead of automatically hopping on the bus. I’ve gone for 5-mile walks without dying. If I can continue on this road, I feel like I’ll be in much better shape when springtime rolls around and I finally get to Italy. I’ll be able to do much more walking and exploring without being completely exhausted. (Who’s kidding, I’ll still be exhausted, but it will take me longer to get to that point than it would’ve if I’d gone last year.)
So. I am still ambivalent, because I don’t really trust myself yet. I don’t believe that in another five years I won’t have gained all this weight back and then some. But I’m trying to think less about five years from now and just think about today instead.