Weigh-in days. I wake up, nervously, and being the weigh-in routine:
6am wake up
Forget that it’s Wednesday
Walk around the apartment aimlessly while admiring my fantastic bed head
Make it to the bathroom after several circles around the kitchen counters
As I turn on the showers, realize that, MY GOD, it’s WEDNESDAY.
Turn on the Wii Fit and attempt to place the board in the exact place as last time.
Curse as the tv’s Wii Board berates you for not checking in since last Wednesday
Notice how disheveled my Mii is. And wonder why my belly is sticking out of my shirt. Do underweight Miis have baggy, hobo looking clothes?
Quickly tear off the layers of bed clothes I have on so I dont get charged a single ounce more.
Wait… wait… measuring… measuring… measuring… ALL DONE! wait… wait… wait…
Watch as the BMI meter shouts out “Overweight!” and it makes the “wah-wah-wah” music
BUT, happily dance as I see that I’ve actually lost weight this week.
Get pissed when it’s only 2 ounces.
Remind myself that it IS 2 ounces.
Hear the water splashing in the tub and run off mindlessly…
Yes, I lost 2 ounces this week.
It’s better than nothing? Or gaining. Or being back to the 30lbs heavier weight than I was one year ago.
It all counts, right? Every stinkin’ ounce adds up… eventually.
And I have been loosing inches. Thank gawd. SOB and I went on a home goods Target run on Monday. And while he was on a search for ironing boards and the elusive $3 iron, I went straight for the jeans. All day long, I wondered “Could I be a size smaller now?” I hadn’t really tried on any smaller pants over the last year, so maybe this was my time. I grabbed a pair of size ___ and a pair of dockers in the same size and headed for the changing room.
I’m not joking when I say it took a bit of courage to even put them on. I’ve tried this song and dance before, and I always end up frustrated and (admittedly) in tears. But I’ve ran a half marathon. I can freakin’ try on a pair of pants!
So, I did. The first pair, the dockers, were tight, but buttoned up and zipped. If it weren’t for some obvious rolls going on, I’d count it a success. The jeans, on the other hand, slipped over my thighs like it was nothing. And as I buttoned the top button and zipped the fly, I looked up to see someone standing in her perfect sized jean. No rolls, no muffin tops, no fly or button ready to burst.
They just fit. I did some squats in them, just to make sure. And then a booty dance… just because.
I could have cried. Ok, I did cry. I hadn’t worn that size (correctly) since my freshman year of high school. And since the last thing to shrink on my body is always my stomach and hips, I couldn’t be happier to FINALLY see some tangible progress. It’s been a long, emotion sucking road.
Those 2oz are one step closer to getting me to a normal size. I just have to keep telling myself that, and occasionally checking in on the jeans department.