This morning, after 2 evenings in a row of riding my recumbent bike, the scale says 210. Two ten! It's almost like a dream. I have battled this weight for SO LONG. Not just on this blog, but *before* I discovered blogging, I was trying (on and off, between month-long binges) to lose the weight. I wasn't comfortable being so fat. I'd grown up thin, for the most part, and was a curvy 140 when I met my first husband back in 1989. I didn't watch what I ate, but rarely exercised; I ate potato chips and pizza but I *never* binged, and I led a fairly active lifestyle just running around like teens do. After I had my first son, the weight just *fell* off. I didn't diet or exercise or anything, and within weeks my body was right back to 140 and fitting in my old clothes. I thought nothing of it.
After I lost my second baby I put on a good ten pounds (partly pregnancy weight and partly grief weight) and my father-in-law called me a fatass. (If only he could have seen me after gaining another 130 pounds... but he died and missed out). I felt a little overweight but my focus was on a) my son and b) getting pregnant again, not on dieting.
Although I did gain more weight, eventually, and try to diet my way back to 140 pounds, I didn't get REALLY fat until after my fourth child was born. It was 1997 when I made my New Year's Resolution to go from 187 pounds (oh the horror) back down to 140. Instead, that was the year I went over 210 for the first time, and never got back down below it again. For ten whole years I went up and down the scale between 230 and 280. Ten years! Gosh, it just brings me to tears for that sad, pained, lonely single Mom. I went through poverty, I worked, I went back to college. I ate a lot of donuts from the food bank. I did Atkins, South Beach, Weight Watchers, Master Cleanse, etc, etc.
And now after two and a half years of relentless effort to get a grip on my life (and my eating), I feel sane and more in control than I have in years, and I am right on the cusp of getting back to where I was, weight-wise, over 13 years ago.
I am SO EXCITED to weigh 210 pounds!
When I was 9 months pregnant with my first child, I weighed 170 pounds.
When I was 9 months pregnant with my second child, I weighed 188 pounds.
When I was 9 months pregnant with my third child, I weighed 190 pounds.
When I was 9 months pregnant with my fourth child, I weighed 196 pounds.
Yet I am thrilled to weigh 210 pounds now, more than I weighed when I was 9 months pregnant with big ol' nearly 9 pound babies in my 20's.
It's a relief to finally be seeing the "finish line." I do see 199 as some kind of magic threshold to cross, even though I know it's just another number on my way to my goal of a normal BMI and a strong healthy body. I have eyeballed that 199 line for so long and I guess I started to believe it was beyond my reach. But it's not. It's right there and if I keep on running (or even walking) towards it I am going to step right over that line... and keep on going. I think this must be how a marathoner or triathlete must feel after a grueling race, when they finally *see* the finish line. Such relief, such exhilaration! And yet my race is far from over. I don't care... I just can't wait to see a 1 in front of my number again. Finally.
I'll keep on biking and lifting weights and working my plan. I'll keep fixing healthy dinners and buying lots of fresh veggies and finding new ways to prep them. I'll keep working out my issues and jumping the blocks that are in my path as I reach them. I AM going to make it. All of us can.
The Dinner That Almost Wasn’t
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