Three months down

Today marks three months at the gym. Three months of ass-kickings dealt by my trainer, with a few of them dealt by myself.

And I'm twenty pounds lighter.

As many times as I've tried to lose weight, I've never lost this much. I've never stayed with it long enough. Every time, the pessimism has gotten the better of me. The negative talk, the apathy, the decision that I was fine and why did I bother? But I was never fine. I was never happy with myself.

I've been lighter than 218 before. Most of my adult life I was lighter than this, by a little. But this is the fittest, healthiest 218 pounds I've ever been. There's merit in that.

I have perspective now. I've been appreciating who I am each day and I'm working to respect myself. I'm not afraid to wear sleeveless shirts at the gym anymore, though finding ones in my size that are flattering is nigh impossible.

Speaking of which, an XL in street clothes does not equal an XL in fitness clothes. Oops.

And my biceps are pretty killer. Even as they are, swaddled protectively in armfat, they're not just becoming noticeable. They're becoming prominent. This is perhaps the coolest thing ever.

I still haven't broken my 13:00 mile, but I'm not trying anymore. I realize my January goal for 30 miles on the treadmill may have been misguided, since my previously-stated plan of attack was one of cross-training. But we'll leave the goal stand. Maybe I'll surprise myself.

Have you ever noticed that when you're working really hard, and you start to sweat, it's not too bad? Then, after several minutes, the stank kicks in? I discovered that this week. Yikes.

I tell myself it means I'm working harder and getting healthier. It might just mean that I'm smelly.

I've learned that, in order to lose weight, I need to be honest, and I need to be accountable to myself. I can't look at the scale in confusion, wondering why I don't lose weight, knowing that I'm eating poorly. Honesty may hurt, but the sort of sneaky self-sabotage created by that false bafflement is much more damaging in the long run.

So. Three months down. Worth every minute.