About six and a half years ago I lost a little more than forty pounds from my previous high weight of 232. I didn’t really change my substantially damaging diet, but rather took up biking for a few months. I was quite successful in the short term regardless of how I failed to implement more sustainable changes. I got down to the weight that I am at right now – 190 – and then I gave up.
This is the absolute lowest weight that my husband has ever seen me at. It is the amount I last felt really and truly great at, and it is what I weighed in the last few photographs of me where I felt natural and beautiful and like the pictures actually reflected back whom I believe myself to be.
It is a great weight, but also a dangerous one.
I am scared that all of these great feelings that I generally have right now – all of the pleasure and self-esteem I have gotten from feeling like my body is no longer some misshapen lump of clay – will trick me into becoming lazy. I worry that I will become complacent about food and working out because I already feel like I have accomplished so much.
I still want to lose a lot more weight. I still need to become fitter so that I can be a role model to my future children and have a better chance at living a long and happy life. I don’t want to just give up again.
I know that the choice is mine and I think that identifying these fears will go a long way to deterring the outcome I wish to avoid. It’s hard not to be scared right now considering I am in the exact same place I was when I let it all go last time. One day at a time… one day at a time…