Wednesday Weigh-in, Week 251 — 1.1 kilos gone. Huzzah! 11.7 kilos to go.
I am still 2.2 kilos above my lowest weight this year – I was 84.5 for one magical week way back in June when I did the Grazia photoshoot, although that may have been me being so nauseous with terror that I barely ate. However, I can now officially say five weeks after returning to the UK I have finally lost the Australia Lard.
Next mini-goal is to get under the elusive 84.5 and finally be back in Virgin Fat territory.
I know I shouldn’t number crunch too much, but at this stage I need to focus on the numbers. The little details. I need to remember how little there is to go, compared to all that came before. All week I’ve been haunted by that stupid ticker with its cheery refrain, "71 kilos lost, 13 to go!". Thirteen to go, dammit. If I’ve managed to bust 71 kilos – a whole STURDY PERSON – then I know I can lose 13 more. That’s a chubby toddler at most.
I can do this. I can do this.
I was talking to myself all week. When confronted by cakes or gym apathy or admiring tiny jeans in the shops, I mumbled my mantra, "Thirteen to go!".
And now it’s Eleven Point Seven to go, so it must be working alright.
I am trying to frame things in a positive light, instead of mopey thoughts like comparing my weight loss progress to other people’s weight loss progress, or dwelling on my slow progress in the past six months (At least I have the ability to maintain, ha!). All this self-talk is helping, as I am staying conscious of my food choices and feel balanced again. I’m in control, and I feel that hunger is back – the hunger to achieve and push myself hard.
I could write more, but it’s snowing here in Edinburgh today and I just want to look out the window and squeal. Plus 75% of you readers are American and lazing on your couches in a turkeymarshmellow stupor so you won’t be reading blogs anyway, so I’ll save it for another day. Bon weekend, my pretties!