It’s been a great weight loss week, and I’m thrilled to announce that I’ve lost 78.4 pounds to date. Although this losing streak of mine has been going on for three months, now, I admit I get very nervous on the odd week that I don’t lose something. More often than not, though, I get excited, because I know that as long as I can keep on losing, I’ll be returning to the things I love.

78 pounds of watermelon

For me, losing weight and restoring the things that I absolutely love is one of the biggest gifts I can possibly give to myself.

Sure, I have fleeting thoughts that are vain in nature. I yearn to be among the normal; to look around me and know that the things that set me apart and brand me as special and unique having nothing to do with being fat — or for that matter, being known for weight loss, because that’s simply another side of the same coin. I want to shop in clothing departments that don’t have a single “plus” size in them, and be able to buy something off the rack and know it’ll fit. I want to get on an airplane and not automatically request a seatbelt extension. I want to take joy in being photographed, instead of wanting to hide behind someone.

But more than that, I yearn for experiences.

All of us have had them: those singular exhilarating moments where grace whispers to you that you’ll remember the experience forever, so beautiful that to merely revisit those moments takes your breath away. These are the things that matter most, and while being fat doesn’t necessarily preclude those perfect moments, I find that for me, these breathless golden memories usually are a result of accomplishments and achievements.

It’s standing on top of Pinnacle Mountain, and knowing that despite the pain it took me to climb there, I did it, and felt the exhilaration of filling my lungs with the cooler breeze at the top, taking in the vista around me, that much closer to the sun.

It’s the simple joy of running up the steps at a ballpark, and landing at the top, not at all out of breath.

It’s swimming in the ocean.

It’s standing along the edge of a football stadium in the golden light of a Saturday afternoon, and being a small, contributing part of one whole — playing a stirring fight song to the masses below. Being a part of the fiber that makes something magnificent is truly what making music is about.

This is not as much about weight loss for me, as it is about shedding the cocoon my weight has built around me, and returning to flight. So while I’m happy that you who have come here to read these words are joining in my journey with me, as I stand on the cusp of the time my weight loss becomes truly noticeable, I hope that you know by now that it’s not about the loss at all. It’s about becoming. Most of all, I want to become me, again.

There is true fear in losing that cocoon, and peeling back the mental layers to heal what’s there and fight for what I want: to live, unrestricted. To be known for my words, for my heart, for whatever else makes me unique other than how much fat I do — or don’t — caryy. This entire blog is dedicated not to my body, but to my mind, because it’s my thoughts that have held me back in the past.

I am thankful for each of you that come here to celebrate my losses with me. Inevitably, for me, it’s not as much about celebrating loss, but relishing each step I take toward building a life worth living.