The more I resist the urge to diet, the more weight I lose. Two more pounds last week—OF BODY FAT! Not water or muscle, but fat. 11 pounds of body fat is a lot, and there is a visible difference in my body shape. Previously, I’ve lost 15 pounds beyond where I am now and nobody noticed, didn’t drop a dress size or anything like that—surely it was loss of muscle and water which really REALLY doesn’t help matters. Screw that damn scale, I get it now, the number really does mean so very little! Two months in and I’ve dropped a decent-sized dumbbell in lard and I’ve packed on some new muscles where there were none before. The weight loss may not be as significant as other crash diets I’ve gone on, but I look and feel exponentially better.
Here is some most excellent news to report—I CAN’T FIT INTO MY BRAS ANYMORE! WHOOooooooo!!! Pant size schmant size, I have dropped a bra size! *throws confetti*
And? The moment I have been waiting for for over three years: I got my first, unsolicited, “You’ve lost weight!” comment! Not just one, but TWO, on two different occasions!
Every time I see a magazine article that promises to help me get there faster, I tell myself to be patient, I MUST learn skills that will last a lifetime: No more being obsessed with food, dieting and weight, and loving myself enough to enjoy the freedom that brings.
