I’m big on patting myself on the back, especially when it is for something important to me. I have lost ten pounds since the beginning of June! I was only a couple of fine lines on the scale away from being 20 pounds above my dance training weight. That, and the fact that my usable wardrobe was being reduced by the day, was what finally pushed me over the edge and back to counting every calorie.
I feel incredibly fortunate that I know the exact number of calories I need to consume every day to maintain the weight where I want to be. I did it diligently for five years. Consuming that calorie count when I’m at a heavier weight equals weight loss. Because that number is one I can comfortably live on and well above starvation, my body doesn’t fight it at all, at least not any more.
When I first started, the first couple weeks my body did not want to work out. Like a petulant teenager, it did a work slow down. We had words. I told my body I didn’t care speed, only the number of steps. We were on that elliptical until it showed 5,000 steps. My body picked up the pace.
So for nearly two months now, I’ve been dutifully planning and measuring and tracking. As much as I wish it weren’t true, the weight where I feel most comfortable requires daily effort. With me not dancing two hours a day (not to my mention my being older), I probably won’t get as low as I was before with this number of calories, and I’m okay with that. I’ll get close.
I knew that I was doing something right when I started being cold in 75 degree (F) rooms, when my pants got longer, and moving belt notches. That is when I tried the clothes that had become too uncomfortable to wear, and they fit! These little victories are keeping me going.
Has anyone else rediscovered a rather inconvenient truth? or Am I the only one that is shocked that pants get longer when you lose weight?
Grown Up, Now What? 