As of this morning, I’m at 215.3 pounds. I’m okay with this.
First, there are other signs of improving health besides weight loss. I’m flatter, less round. I can see tone where I want tone, and less where I want less. I don’t get out of breath going up the stairs, as I did a year ago. I sleep infinitely better.
Second, I’m assuming there’s a two pound margin, either way, on weight. Don’t get me wrong–I’ll never round up and think, “Ah, I’m actually around 217,” but rather, eh. Weighing every day I’ve begun seeing the number on the scale as Weight-Ish.
I have learned this: I see better results on a downward trend when I function within the regular amount of calories, regardless of exercise. The programs I use add calories burned from workouts to those available on the day. Nope! I am not trying to maintain.
I have 49 days, I believe, to drop another fifteen pounds before my 36th birthday. Ish. Or so. Aiming for but not demanding. Is this what a reasonable, healthy goal looks like?! I’m shocked.