22lbs in 22 months

This has been the weirdest weight loss effort of my life and, for that reason, I have hope that it weill be my last.

Almost two years ago, after a sartorially uncomfortable Christmas, I knew I’d put on a little weight and said something like the following to my husband:

“I think it’s time to take off a few pounds.  I’m glad that I know when I’ve got to that point.  I seem to just “know” when I’ve got to 160.”

Let me assure you that what was going on inside me was not so calm.  I carry most of my extra weight on my torso.  My bust and midriff get bigger faster than my hips.  I hate sitting because of the spillover and I don’t feel at home in my own body.

So I stepped on the scale and saw 170 pounds. So much for knowing my body.

Since then, I have lost 22 pounds with a few more to go.  It still shocks me how I didn’t notice my body getting bigger and bigger.  I blame lycra, but that’s beside the point.

The point is that it’s taken me twenty-two months to lose twenty-two pounds and that’s ok with me because it has been the most stressful time of my life. The first stress was a three month renovation on our house.  We’d been unpacked for less than three weeks when my mom suffered a brain injury and I went to Canada to stay with my dad and try to get things ready for a very changed Mom to come home.  I returned to the UK to find that I needed surgery, and, while recuperating, my dad died.  Essentially, my life has been turn sideways, if not upside down and I’ve had to learn how to eat through stress and grief and fear and frequent jet lag.  I am thrilled that I have lost an average of a pound a month through all that.

Of course, the average really represents both losses and gains and the biggest gain of eight pounds happened during the 3 months of Christmas/surgery/living alone in my dad’s house after he died. I’ve also had months of maintaining and it’s been exciting to find that by walking more in daily life and just being careful about food choices, I CAN keep weight off.

I’m not “there” yet – and am still not quite sure where “there” is.  It might be five pounds away. Or two or ten.  I’m hoping I’ll know when I get there.  But the one thing I know is that this is for life.  The lovely thing about a twenty-two month journey is that so many things that I use to consider “on programme” are simply real life.

Like eating olive oil.

Getting in at least 5 fruits and veg a day.

Noticing the alcohol consumption.

Saving bread for a treat.

Eating more fish.

Asking for dressing and sauces on the side in restaurants.

These are genuinely enjoyable parts of eating now and I’m ready to see where the next couple of years takes me.