One of my favorite new shows this season is Friday Night Lights which centers around a high school football team and the community’s cult-like devotion to them. I can tell this is a great show because I enjoy it and I don’t even like football! The coach of the team can’t seem to go anywhere – even out to breakfast – without everyone in town giving him advice about how to play the game. I feel for you Coach Taylor because that’s what it’s like to be a weight loss blogger. Thankfully, I at least don’t have rally girls baking chocolate coconut cakes for me.
I got a lot of good advice on plateaus in my last entry, but I was kind of giggling to myself because I don’t remember actually asking for tips. I’m not angry or anything. My pinkie is nowhere near the caps-lock key. But I did feel a bit like a football coach getting lectured on Hail Mary passes when all I wanted to do was eat some blueberry pancakes. You all mean well, I know, and there were definitely good ideas thrown out there. I’m sure all the tips will serve as a good resource for anyone reading through the blog in the future.
The reason I didn’t ask for any tips was that this plateau doesn’t really bother me. I’m finally at a weight where I can fit into restaurant booths, fly planes without seatbelt extenders, and easily find clothes that fit me. I was able to walk all over Boston without any exhaustion. My hip to waist ratio is below the danger zone. My resting heart rate is down to 50 beats per minute, which is pretty low. I’m still a fatty, but life is good, y’all!
The only bummer is when I have to come here every week and report on the weight stall because I know you guys are more down about it than I am. I think it’s good for me to keep reporting on the weight so I don’t slowly start to gain it back. A pound here, a pound there and it starts to add up to something. But from here on out I see the last 45 pounds as being 30% about health and 70% about vanity. If it takes another year or another six years (hey there, diet girl! *waves*) then that’s how long it takes. The things that bothered me the most about being obese are basically gone now. From here on out it’s just icing on the cake that I’m not eating.
Perhaps this is the best thing about having been morbidly obese. It gives you a great sense of perspective. If I had been thin all my life and had just recently ballooned up to 200+ pounds, I could see myself crying in my pudding. And who wants to eat salty pudding? Instead, I’ve lost 165 pounds to get where I am, so I appreciate it in a way a formerly thin girl probably never would.
On the last entry crankybee asked me: “I was just wondering if you’ve ever had emotional plateaus? You know, where you cannot be stuffed with the journey anymore?” I can’t recall having any extended sort of emotional plateau, but there have certainly been days or strings of days when I’ve seriously considered just sitting on the couch eating muffins instead of exercising. This past week has been one of them. At times like these the simple force of habit of exercising is my best tool. I’ve become so accustomed to walking and running most days that it feels odd and guilt-inducing not to exercise, like if I were to not go into work. Sure, it’d be nice to have a day off, but it would feel weird going to the grocery and seeing all the stay-at-home moms instead of the women in heels and suits picking up milk in the evening. Whereas when you are just starting out it’s the reverse, exercising itself is the weird event. Now, God forbid, if something disastrous or devastating were to happen to me I could see an emotional plateau happening, but lets just cross our fingers and knock on wood and hope that nothing bad happens to PastaQueen ever again, okay?