|Left: Me in September 2007; Middle: Christmas 2009; |
Right: July 2015.
I always remember the first few days of August much better than the last few days of August. A weird month that has been so meaningful in my life for different reasons. Today is a day to celebrate the happy part of the month.
Eight years ago, for some reason that I'll never really understand, I decided that I was ready to try to be healthy. I was going to fight my obesity with small steps. Quite literally small steps. I took a walk every morning before work. I tried to eat better. And slowly the small steps were making a difference.
I started my journey eight years ago at 239 lbs. About a year later, I was 90 lbs lighter and a lot healthier. With the help and encouragement of my co-workers and Patrick, I ended up losing another eight pounds. And gaining a lot of self-confidence. I ended up hitting my low only two pounds short of the official 100 lbs lost mark. It kinda pissed me off, but primarily I was pissed because I had reached a plateau.
Since then, I've gone up and down like a yo-yo. A slow-moving yo-yo but a yo-yo nonetheless. I've never come close to hitting 200 lbs again, a vow that I made myself, but I have fluctuated back and forth by 35-40 pounds.
Here I am again. I'm eight pounds away from my lowest weight as an adult. Ten pounds away from saying that I've lost 100 lbs from my heaviest. I work out six days a week and do better on my diet than when I was in my 20s.
And I am thankful. I am thankful for whatever lead me to change my life eight years ago and thankful for whatever has pushed me back toward those changes time and again. I am thankful for my friends and family who have encouraged me and supported me whatever the fluctuation has been.
And I am thankful for Patrick, who loved me at all of these weights, and who has shown me again and again that he always will. Which is freeing.
Eight years. Eight pounds. And the knowledge that this challenge will always be here. Frustrating, but thankful.