At least that's how I spelled it last night.
My normal bedtime routine is to read a few pages of either the current book [which is Fat Politics – thanks again, Beth, for the recommendation] or the current New Yorker. It only takes a few pages, normally, to do the job, and I'm usually sound asleep by 10. Eleven at the latest.
Last night I was still wide awake at 11, so I got up and started trying on clothes.
I don't know about you, but my closets resemble department stores in one remarkable way – my clothes come in multiple sizes. The last time I was my current size was three years ago, almost to the day. Those jeans I wore in the last update photo? They're too big. I think I wore them once this month. No matter, though; I have three pairs in the next smaller size that fit fine.
Unfortunately, the 'next smaller size' is still Pretty Darned Big. But it was still a rather heady experience to be raiding my closets, deciding what to give to Goodwill, what to put in the spare room closet [for later] and what to put in the laundry.
I don't want to spend the rest of my life fighting my weight. I never want to lose this weight again.
Here's where I'm heading:
That photo was taken in the mid '90s, and I still have that dress, which is a size 8. For the first time in a very long time, I think I'll be able to wear it again. I didn't have this feeling three years ago, when I was doing Weight Watchers Online. When I lose eight more pounds, I will reach the lowest weight I achieved on WW. That was in August, 2003, and I plateaued for two months. At that point, I started the slow, painful spiral back up. And up. And then some.
What a vain and boring post this has been! Blogging, though, has been helpful in staying on track this time. I don't know if one element of this trip has been more important or more crucial, or if the combination of strategies is what is doing the trick. All I know is that this time something is different.
And I'll take it.