Okay, everyone, if you’ve been following the ascending ticker (of sorts) on my homepage, you know that I’m teetering dangerously close to the 60-pounds-lost mark in my ongoing efforts to shed a Backstreet Boy (credit: “America’s Sweethearts”).
Although I recognize this breaks with the mold of what people in general — and women in particular — are comfortable sharing, I’ve gotten to a place in this journey (forgive the reality-show jargon there) that real numbers don’t seem quite so crazy to share. That, and the few people with whom I’ve shared these numbers haven’t reacted with horror — at least not obvious horror to me directly — so … aw, what the hell?
Here’s a run-down of the data I have right now.
** As of July 2002 (shortly after I moved to Texas), my “women’s” doctor weighed me at 238.
** The following July (’03), the same doctor weighed me at 268. Yikes!
** On January 22, 2004, a day which will live in infamy, my GP weighed me at my documented highest-ever weight, 283. The nurse and I both nearly had heart attacks on the spot.
** As of Friday, July 23 (’04), my “women’s” doctor has my official weight at 226. I go back to my GP next Friday (7/30) for an official update using the same scale that recorded the record high. I’ve got every reason to believe that official weight will be the 223 (at least) that I’m aiming for.
** My initial goal was to lose about 120 pounds, putting my end weight at or around 165. Basically, that’s a Backstreet Boy. 😉 I’d like as much of that 120 to come off this calendar year, but I’m patient with my body and myself.
Whew! That’s my story. 🙂
By the way, on the topic of real/tangible numbers, my weigh-in Friday was 224. Really close to the 223 I was estimating. Yeah!