Here is my post from last August.
I started at 208.5 last August which was at the time the heaviest I have ever been. Well my attempts failed and my motivated waned and I got up to 220 pounds. That's where I was 3 weeks ago. 220 pounds. unable to give blood because my iron was low. Why was I doing this to myself and our marriage. You see I am not happy with the way I look and my husband never complains but I complain all the time about it and I am unhappy with it. Which in turn makes everyone around me miserable.
Since 3 weeks ago, I have lost 11.5 pounds. I started doing weight watchers. I may not do it 100% "right" all the time but I am doing it and it's giving me a good baseline of where I should be eating wise. I have been trying to stay more motivated and do more. parking further away at the store, sitting towards the back at the top of the hill at Hollywood Casino, mowing the lawn, etc.
I want to be healthier. I want to get down to 140 pounds. I would be elated. I need to stop by obsession with numbers though but I like seeing that number go down. I am going to try to not weigh myself again until I make some real progress, as in my pants are too big (they're getting looser). That scale can be evil and misleading.
Today I feel better than I have in a LONG time and that says a lot. I spent the weekend with my family and wanted to be in the pics. I am proud of the progress I have made and can't wait to take some more selfies with the kids. I don't want my kids to struggle to find a picture of us together because I felt fat or looked fat.. Who cares because I know they don't.
