Muffin Top

I saw this one on pinterest and I thought it was so funny. 

Funny but not. I've been a muffin top a lot the past 3 months. And I have hated it. 

It's been such a hard 3 months for me. Up and down and up and down. And up and up and up. And down. 

The best thing that you can ever do for your weight loss is to get rid of your clothes as soon as you fit into smaller ones. If I had hung on to a bigger size pants I would have started wearing them. And I would not have had to experience all the discomfort of stuffing my poor little muffin top into them. My shirts stopped looking good. They stopped looking even decent. I haven't worn them for probably two months. I've been wearing my husband's t-shirts. There were a few days where I just had to wear my pajama pants or workout pants during the day. And if I had to go to the store, I had to stuff myself into my jeans, and then I couldn't even walk without feeling every bulge. So gross. I was not a happy person. Every day I proved my theory that "fat and happy" is a lie. 

Everything else in my life was great. Right on target. Absolutely no complaints. We found a fabulous house, the kids love their school and are doing awesome. They have lots of friends in the neighborhood. Church is awesome here. My sister and her family came to see us. I HAVE MY HUSBAND BACK. I mean, who could complain? I have no complaints whatsoever. But it's funny how out-of-control-eating can taint everything. It makes all those happy things less happy. I felt like crud so much. 

The thing that really kicked my butt back into action was my clothes. I mean, I can't exactly wear my husband's t-shirts to church. And I can't just wear workout pants everywhere I go. And I refuse to EVER buy a size bigger. So there was only one choice--fight.

So I've been fighting. I'm still in the red--in debt to the scale. Luckily, though, the debt is almost paid. Today I weighed in at 198.9. I have mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, I hate that 198.9 feels so great. Because a few months ago, 198.9 would have made me cry. But on the other hand, I feel great that it's back out of the 200s. It is what it is. It's not a fairytale.

Another blogger posted today about ending weight loss part one, and beginning weight loss part two. So you set a big weight loss goal that takes several months, or a year, to accomplish. And after all that time, you accomplish it. And then you just need a break. You're not quitting, but you just plain need a break from focusing so much energy on all the effort weight loss really takes. And then you start part two. So for me, the goal was to lose 100 pounds while my husband was in Iraq. And I did it. I started losing a little bit before he left. My real start weight was 303. When he left, I was 293. So losing 100 meant getting to 193. And I did that, plus a little. Part one.

Then life went completely haywire. I would have liked the break to have only been a week or two--and it  might have been, if I hadn't been in the middle of a whole life-upheaval. But it is what it is. At any rate, I have fought and I have worked really hard to get back into a good place with the weight control. And I have started part two. There should be no more upheavals for a while, so that's good. Part two is to get to 174. For me, the dividing line between overweight and obese is 175. I don't really have a date set for 174. I'll hit it and then I'll go from there. 

My goal is to hit pre-move weight for my birthday. That's Monday. Four days to get 193. I think it will happen. But even if I only hit 195, I'll be thrilled. All I want for my birthday is to start wearing my own clothes. I am wearing my jeans and they are fine--a little loose again. But the shirts--I'm almost scared to try! I'll try again once I hit 195. 

I'm on super hard-core plan until the end of May. Hoping to get under 180 by then. 

I'm back.