After my weigh-in and my normal drive-home phone conversation with my lovely mother, I had about 45 minutes before heading to book club. So, I reheated some Bubble Up Pizza Casserole and sat down to eat it. And I started crying.
I guess I don’t often think about the amount of work I’m putting into losing this weight, and to see it pay off really felt good. I was (am) emotionally overwhelmed by it all: all the hours at the gym, all the things I want to eat that I don’t, all the times I wanted to have a glass (ahem, bottle) of wine one quiet Saturday evening but didn’t, all the money I’m investing in me, all the compliments I’m hearing. Last night, another woman told me that I’m her inspiration because she has to lose the same amount of weight that I do — and knowing that it can be done gives her hope. It’s a good feeling, but also a scary one because I know that my life is changing. For the better, sure, but it’s still changing. And change is scary — whether it’s good, bad, ugly or beautiful.
There’s a certain amount of fear that accompanies this change because there are a lot of unknowns. What if I can’t keep it up? Those 5 a.m. gym alarms come awfully early, and sometimes, darn it, a cheeseburger just sounds good. What if I can’t keep it off? I just read last night that 95 percent of people who lose a significant amount of weight gain it back within three years (“Joining the Thin Club”). What really makes this time different?
And I’m not sure I’m ready to answer that question yet. I know that, right now, it’s working. And I’m really enjoying the changes taking over my life — physically, mentally, you name it. So that’s what I’m going with. As I evaluate myself and my “new” lifestyle as this journey goes on, I’m certain I’ll uncover the true answer. But for now, I’m just keepin’ on.