According to the scale, I lost 8 lbs. since my journey began on January 1st.
I haven’t done measurements to compare inches. Or taken pictures.
Heather (coach of the challenge and owner of the gym) said that in the first month, there would not be much change in weight since a lot of the fat is being worked into muscle. Muscle weighs more than fat…thus…not much loss.
My clothes fit better and I feel better.
I’ve gotten a lot of compliments and “noticings”.
But please permit me this moment to be pissed. All the time dedicated to working out, all the careful food choices, meticulous food documentation, and false hope from MyFitnessPal to be a whole tens place lower…I really expected (and wanted!) a more “grand” result. I know I should be happy. I know it’s a big achievement. I know I’ve been making positive changes and choices that are becoming a habit and part of my life rather than a punishment. And maybe stepping on that scale was the biggest mistake. Turns out that MyFitnessPal didn’t change anything with my results. What I’m getting is that if I keep on doing what I’m doing, I should hit my goal…eventually. No definitive timeline on that. I guess I work best under pressure, and with no big event on the horizon, the only person I have to please is myself. And right now, I can only concentrate on the loss of my chest size and the remaining lumps and “problem areas” that I desperately want to disappear.
And I think that’s something I really need to remember. Probably just not to hate my body at all. I have a lot to be thankful for. It’s just so much easier t0 put yourself down than to build yourself up. I’m not seeking the approval of others – well, it’s nice to make The Chad and male admirers drool whenever possible – but I definitely need to get to a new level of self-satisfaction.
Hm, I’m getting awfully introspective at such a late hour. There’s potential for a snow day tomorrow (side note: when in the world did they start naming winter storms?!). Time for a little snow dance and happy thoughts. But I just smelled Frankie’s breath. It kind of rots. Not cool, Frankie.