Six months.

Today is officially six months of the “new me” if you want to say it all weird.  I suppose it’s a good time to reflect a little and see what’s changed.

When I started, I weighed in at 403 pounds.  Today, I weighed in at 295 pounds.

When I started, I was stretching out size 52 pants and shirts anywhere from 4XL to 5XL.  Today I’m wearing 42 jeans, a 2XL shirt and sweater, and they fit me comfortably.

When I started, I’d had facial hair constantly since May of 2003, because of the dreaded “fat face”.  Now, my face is clean shaven and fat face has been banished.

When I started, I shopped for clothes at two stores: Casual Male and Burlington Coat Factory.  Oh wait, Walmart had size 4XL Fruit of the Loom t-shirts that I could stretch to fit my body.  Today, I’m wearing nothing from those stores but my socks.  In fact, as I’ve stated before, I’m kind of an Old Navy addict, like any good 15-year-old girl.  My Jockeys are also an XL instead of an XXL, and they aren’t coming apart at the seams from stress.  Imagine that.

When I started, I could walk three miles, but it was a pain in the ass.  Today, I’m planning two 5Ks on Thanksgiving, and walking a mile to and from the last one.  I walked six miles on Sunday and had to keep reminding myself that I wasn’t slacking and this did indeed count as a workout.

You get the point.  Things are much better, I’m much healthier and I’m now bringing the sexy.  There aren’t many downsides to this.  There are some things that straddle the line though.  When I don’t work out, I feel anxious.  Antsy.  Not so much guilty, but I feel like I really should be doing something.  I have a hard time giving myself a rest day and sitting in front of the TV.  When I’ve worked out, I think I have every right to sit there watching Baggage with Jerry Springer.  So I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing that I feel that way. 

Also, I’m still learning to adjust to being a normal person, which is strange because when I was super-fat, a lot of time was spent trying to blend in.  Now, I want to stand out (hence the new love of fancy clothes), but it clashes with my instincts to blend in.  So I have, as I’ve said before, a desire to be noticed, but a distinct aversion to my weight loss being recognized.  Recognition of any kind for my weight has never been in a positive light.  When you’re 400 pounds and someone notices your weight, it’s never for a good reason.  Now, people legitimately don’t realize I’m the same person at first, and then that’s what they want to talk about. 

The strange thing is, I’m fine with all of this online, and I truly appreciate the people that have said that I’ve inspired them or someone they love to get healthier.  I’ve actually been seriously considering the option of looking at careers  in helping people lose weight once I’ve made it to goal (by the way, if anyone knows how this can be done, drop me a line).  I’m still adjusting to having to talk about it in real time, with a real person.

Now, some things that I have gotten over.  I’m over the vanity of caring how many people check out the blog.  Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate everyone that takes the time to read it, and it’s an outlet regardless of whether anyone reads it, but it’s a little hit to the ego to see the numbers dwindle from 50-60 to the 15-20 regular readers I have now.  In the end though, it doesn’t matter at all who reads it, if anyone.  Again, I’m happy for every reader, but it doesn’t validate my writing.  I write because there’s something to say.  Usually, I don’t know what that is when I start writing, and then before I know it I’m 1000 words in and I’m sure I’m past the point where most people are still reading.

I’m also done worrying about my finishing weight.  My goal weight is set at 199.6 because that’s the high point of the normal BMI range, but the BMI is largely bullshit anyway.  Could I get there?  Sure, it’s possible, but it doesn’t really matter if I do.  As long as I’m doing the right things and I’m making progress toward a healthier life, whether the BMI thinks I’m A-OK isn’t all that important. Maybe I’ll end up at 225 pounds; maybe I’ll end up at 185.

Finally, another thing that I’m doing that I haven’t done in far too long: looking for a primary care physician.  I can’t remember the last time I had one. Luckily, I’ve been in good health, even when living a healthy lifestyle, but now that the spectre of a coarse talking-to by the doctor isn’t hanging over it anymore, I really should get in for a physical, have all my fluids topped off, etc.

The downside to this is I actually have a reason to go to the doctor.  My wrist has been killing me the last two days and I’m not sure what I’ve done with it.  Carpal tunnel is something I’m worried about, but the sudden onset and lack of tingling or numbness has me doubting it.  Hopefully, it’s nothing major.  I have a wall to climb next September and I need to get my strength up.  That’s it!