Losing a part of me

There are many days on the weight loss program when I look at the numbers on the bathroom scale and say that. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’ More often than not, those are bad days… the days when I have followed the program religiously, but either lost no weight or worse… actually gained weight. There are also days (like yesterday morning) when I look at the scale in shock, seeing a number so low as to astound me. Yes, I had been good on the program… but to see a drop of two pounds day-over day, after the previous day’s drop of 2.6 lbs., is pretty surprising. Don’t get me wrong, I did not complain; I was simply expecting this morning’s numbers to correct that somewhat.

After a sleepless night in a hotel in Queens, followed by a relatively uneventful flight, I was in my apartment in Burlington, Ontario (about a 40-minute drive from the airport) by about 12:20pm. I unpacked and then walked down the hallway to my neighbour’s apartment to pick up HRF Princess Sophie, and to chat for a few minutes. It was thirty minutes from walking in the front door until I got undressed and stepped onto the scale. I knew before I did that I should not have much faith in whatever number the bathroom scale showed me because of all of the travel and disorientation, not to mention that it was nearly five hours later in the day than I usually weigh myself. Whatever the number would be, I would take it at face value.

It is difficult to accept that after two straight days of huge day-over-day drops that for a third straight day the scale registered a drop of over two pounds. You really have to be kidding me. I know I was mostly good for the week in Dallas, and considering everything that happened over the past thirty-six hours (mostly resulting from an ice storm in Dallas that threw my well-planned travel plans into a cross-shredder) I know I was really good yesterday and this morning… but I cannot believe for a minute that I not only weigh less than I did the last couple of days, but I am also a full five pounds lighter than I was the morning I left for Dallas. It simply makes no sense, especially knowing that Friday morning – two days after that last Canadian weigh-in – I had gained 2.2 lbs. Certainly not with the knowledge that Friday evening Leslie and I went out to a Chinese restaurant, or that Sunday I ate meatless burgers with bread and sweet potato fries. Absolutely not possible, knowing that Monday morning (four days ago) I weighed a full seven pounds more than I do right now. It is simply not believable.

I stepped off the scale and made a beeline for the kitchen, where I prepared my first Canadian meal replacement shake since last Wednesday; when it was ready, I brought it over to my workstation, fired it up, and started trying to make sense of that which just does not make sense. I know that tomorrow morning, after a good night sleep, at the right time of the morning, and with eighteen hours separating me from my last airplane ride, the number will be real and true.

I have to assume that tomorrow morning I will weigh at least slightly more than I did at 12:45pm today, but in truth I do not know what it will be. All I know is that right now, at 1:15pm on Thursday, February 2, 2023, I weigh less than I have since January 27, 2021 – almost two years to the day – when I was on that slippery slope. At the time, I was only 25 lbs. heavier than my best weight ever… but it would only keep getting worse until just about one year later when I was 135 lbs. heavier than my best weight. Just like it took me nearly a full year to gain the rest of that weight back, it has taken me slightly more than a year to get back down to it.

This time I am not getting off the ride. It will be hard work to stay on it, but my goal is to keep losing weight until I am slim, and then work my tail off every single day to stay there.