Fifty one weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 238
- Blood Sugar: 109
Did I really lose five pounds in a week? Did I really live my life that differently? Did I take more responsibility for myself? Nope. The numbers say I did (well…they say I lost weight, those other two questions are bullshit morality that we arbitrarily assign to a number), but whatever. I’m learning that a person’s body weight can fluctuate wildly in the space of a night. Specifically, Annette was five pounds heavier last night than she is this morning. So I guess, yeah, I weigh 238 pounds but there’s every reason to believe that I also weigh 243 pounds (or that I will, on several occasions, throughout the week). Just more reason to not get too hung up on the numbers.
More clothes are starting to show up to the house. After learning that the big and tall store doesn’t have anything to offer me anymore, I ordered some things online, and with the exception of one pair of shorts, it all fits beautifully. I can now apparently buy dress shirts off the rack. That is utter madness. They aren’t quite as long as I’d prefer, but they fit great otherwise.
Even more exciting is my BMI. In hitting 238 this morning, my BMI has officially dropped down into the “healthy weight” category:
I honestly can’t even guess when the last time I had a healthy BMI was, but it was definitely before I knew what it meant. The truth is, it was probably sometime in grade school.
I’m happy. Non-scale victories are definitely something to be happy about, but this week I’m lucky enough to have victories on and off the scale. I’m also exhausted. I woke up at 2:30am, and I’ve fallen asleep twice while writing these few words, so I’m calling this “done for the day.”
Here, have a graphic:
