Twenty one weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 292
- Blood Sugar: 102
Downward pointing numbers are nice. The app I use asks for your goal weight (I decided on 250 a while back, after talking about it with my doctor), and then breaks whatever that number is into ten milestones. I just surpassed my eighth milestone this morning. Next one is 20 pounds away, and the one after that is 22. According to the same app, my BMI is 30, and has been for a while. The minute it drops below that, I go from being obese to overweight, which seems like a strange thing to be rooting for, but whatever. Also, just for the record, I’m not sold on the whole BMI / ideal weight thing. How you feel – physically, emotionally – these things should count for more than they do. But I’m looking forward to being “merely overweight” anyway.
Tomorrow I give my last two finals and then I don’t have to be anywhere until January. And I’m so fucking ready. I’ll have 65 research papers waiting for me when I wake up on Friday morning, but whatever. Last week I finished finals for one of my schools and this week has seemed like a vacation in comparison to the previous three months. I need to figure out how much weight I’ve lost this semester, and recap the things I’ve been through since school started. A little reflection is a healthy thing.
I’m happy. This morning I’m down to the last of the new holes on my belt, which means it’s time to punch some more. This belt is going to look like it got worked over by the mob before I’m done with it. That’s a little dark, but fuck it. I can’t wait to be done with it, and I can’t wait to show it off as a curiosity, recounting tales of the old me, who could eat two cheeseburgers (It was a totally reasonable thing to do, I wasn’t having the fries. Shut up.) in one sitting. Also, holy shit, I just realized that when I hit that next milestone I’ll have lost nearly 200 pounds. Damn. Math is fun.
Here, have a graphic:
