Heavyweight

I finally got the scale today that I ordered to monitor my weight loss progress, and I already hate it. I told myself when I ordered it that I was getting it to measure my progress in a quantifiable way, that it is merely a scientific instrument, and that I would not let it dictate my self-esteem. I have not really succeeded in holding onto those ideals. For starters, I weighed 16 pounds more than I estimated I did when I entered my starting weight on the Weight Watchers web site. That was discouraging to begin with. I was even more depressed when I realized that to get to what the scale's handbook and the people at Weight Watchers consider the "normal" weight for my height, I need to lose 63 pounds.

It's hard for me to imagine losing 63 pounds. I don't feel obese now, just that I'm a little bit heavier than what I'd like to be. I was thinking that I might want to lose 10 or 20 pounds. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder where 63 pounds would come from, or whether I would look like a scarecrow if I lose that much weight. There's obviously no law that says I have to get down to the weight anyone else says I should be if I feel healthy and look good to myself, but it's disheartening.

I'm also starting to feel discouraged about how much time it's going to take to lose weight. Weight Watchers (in agreement with most other diet sources I've read) suggests losing no more than two pounds per week, which seems like an agonizingly slow pace at which to slenderize. The thinking, I heard, is that the longer you remain in the process of changing your body, the more completely your brain will process the change. That would explain why crash diets rarely succeed in the long run -- not only is your body in an artificial state of starvation but your brain isn't processing the healthy change. So, I get why you should take your time losing the weight, and I get that it isn't healthy to lose 20 pounds a week, but two pounds a week just seems like nothing. I could lose two pounds going to the bathroom or sweating profusely. To lose 63 pounds would take, at a minimum, 31 1/2 weeks, which is just over 7 months. I wouldn't be done losing weight until next February.

Mostly, I'm just whining right now. The truth is that February is coming whether I lose weight or not, and it would be nice to be feeling better about myself when it gets here. I'm not saying that I think I need to lose 63 pounds to get to that point, but even if I just lost the 10 or 20 pounds I originally had in mind, it would be a good thing. And I know that I need to take my time losing weight or else I'll be right back to where I am now before I know it. I have to remember that it was my choice to do this and I can stop anytime I want but that it is a decision I have made to live a healthier life and do something good for myself. I'm showing myself how much I care.

I was thinking today that dumping The Only Living Boy in New York was one of the best decisions I've ever made because it spurred me to make some big, positive changes in my life. I'm eating healthier and trying to lose weight, and I'm having some surgery to aid my, um, social life. I'm just taking better care of myself over all, and I'm trying to be more attuned to what I need and show myself more respect. I'm sorry that I couldn't get what I needed from The Only Living Boy in New York, but I'm glad that I used the end of that relationship as a launching pad to do something nice for myself. It isn't easy, and it isn't usually fun (plain non-fat yogurt is one of the most disgusting substances I have ever eaten), but it is worth it.