My big news this week (in addition to being closer to my next weight goal) is that I’m leaving for a cruise with a friend, and with it comes a LOT of “firsts” — first time on a cruise, first time in Galveston, first time in Honduras, first time in Belize, first time traveling extensively with a friend instead of my husband. Lots and lots of firsts!

The best “first time”, though, is that it’s the first time I am not fretting about my weight and hoping to lose a hundred pounds before seeing old friends. Hey, sure, I’d love to be at my final stage and heading into maintenance, but that’s not far away and it’ll come in its own time.

Gotta get to where the boat leaves from…

When I traveled with my husband a group of friends to Mexico back in 2012, I’d lost about 60 pounds before going, but it wasn’t nearly enough, and I still needed knee replacements. I felt horrible because I knew I was holding my friends back from some of the activities they wanted to do. I just didn’t have the stamina or the ability to walk for even small distances. I fixed that the next time by getting a travel wheelchair, but it wasn’t enough. There’s just nothing, in my experience, that fully compensates for full mobility and ability.

I still am concerned that I’ll hold my traveling companion and dear friend back a bit; she’s a spitfire, fit, capable. I still have another knee replacement to go and a lot of rehab to do before I consider myself to be fit. But at least I won’t be dealing with all the crap I did when traveling previously. It was she who called for a wheelchair at an airport after a trip to Vegas years ago because she knew I was in enough pain that getting to my plane would be difficult. I hope she’s thoroughly surprised by my changes, although she’s been on this journey along with me.

I can’t wait! No more seatbelt extensions on the plane. No more wheelchairs in airports. No canes, either. No awkward stuffing myself into seats and contorting myself for hours so I don’t feel like I’m infringing on people sitting beside me. No more rushed trips to the bathroom because of IBS. No more having to limit what I pack because my clothes take up so much room. No more worrying about my knee locking while I’m in the water, either, since I have a new and improved model.

This morning, I’m at a new low weight. My passport is newly renewed. So is my driver’s license. Those indicators of the weights I’ve been, before, are slipping into a past that isn’t as apparent to others — and to myself — as it once was. It’s freeing to be at this stage; knowing that I’m capable, now, even if I’m probably 90% of the way. And in eight years, when my driver’s license expires again, I plan on still looking like this me.

As I face my 57th birthday next week (at sea!), I know without a doubt that the biggest gift I have ever given to myself was the decision to commit to regaining my health. What I’m about to do for the next week was previously unimaginable to me. I fully embrace these changes in attitude right along with changes in latitude.

I have officially lost myself — plus a little bit more. That teeter-totter from last week has flipped to the other side!

I thought about actually posting a full progress picture with before/after, full body, but I’m so close to a maintenance point (relatively speaking) that I’ve decided to hold off that extra few pounds. Because, in the long run, we’re talking about time.

When I first started this particular journey over 5 years ago, my days were often filled with the yearning to rush to the end and instantly be 200+ pounds lighter. I know I’m not alone; how many of us would love the chance to wake up tomorrow with the bodies we really wanted all of these years?

I’ve lost the equivalent of this 5’11”, 188-lb fighter. Whew!

I have since changed my mind about that. I have needed to take my time and learn, appreciate each day as it comes, and understand how I fit into this refreshed life. Impatience does nothing but rob us of learning opportunities and joy.

There is so much I would have missed, had I just jumped years forward — so much worth treasuring and enjoying. My life didn’t suddenly stop just because I gained weight, and it has been worth the living, overweight or not. We should never be under the impression that weight loss somehow makes us happier; it’s not the act of losing, itself, that generates happiness. It’s up to each of us to find that on our own.

While I’ve been watching the scale and my measurements go down, I’ve also been learning how much those numbers do not define me. I am not magically happier and living a better life because I’ve lost weight; rather, weight loss has been a byproduct of becoming mentally and physically healthier. The act of creating a stronger Me is what makes me happy.

371-Pound Me would have argued that I’d been through enough pain; please just give me the end product. But 183-Pound Me knows damned well that there were hard lessons to learn along the way, and there are yet lessons to learn. Skipping them would have just propelled me back to where I started, much like a bungee cord snapping back to the beginning.

I’m not done, yet, learning about myself. Finding out who I am in this body, in this time, in my life. Each moment comes as a surprise to be unwrapped with relish — and appreciation, even if the moment is a difficult one. Time is a precious commodity, and to waste it away in hopes of something better, instead of valuing each day for its worth, is a mistake.

All of us have the power to use these moments to become better versions of ourselves and to never stop learning.

I’m on a teeter-totter, balanced in the center; on one side, the weight I’ve lost, and the other, my current weight.

To say this is a strange place to be — in the in-between — is an understatement. I am literally ounces away from losing the equivalent of… me. Talk about your mental unpacking! Have I lost myself? Is it good to lose yourself?

I’m gonna argue for yeah, it’s a darned good thing. I spend a lot of time, these days, grinning to myself about silly little things that are only really funny to me. Last week, I was standing right next to a friend who was looking for me; he looked right over my head, looking for me on the opposite side of the room. Not too long ago, my own husband didn’t realize I was standing about thirty feet away from him in a grocery store.

Not actually me, but I couldn’t resist.

My own mother has sat across the table from me and made comments about the things that are different about me.

The changes on the inside are much greater than those on the outside. When I first started this process toward health, my mind yearned to not be tied to a body that held me down; now that one is nearly as capable as the other, I’ve found a harmony I don’t recall having, before. My skin may be physically saggier than a deflated balloon, but I am more comfortable in my skin now, with all of my battle scars in middle age, than I ever was when I was physically at my fittest in my teens.

I love my body for what it is. It’s far from perfect, but I no longer lament that I was born with a bad body. It’s simply mine to do with what I will; invest in it, or deny it. I’ve spent far too many years denying it and cursing it. Now, more than any previous point in my life, I understand it. I know its capabilities, and more importantly, I know what to do about them.

So, while I’m waiting to tip the fulcrum over to the other side to the teeter-totter drops down on the other side of the middle, I’ll just hang out here with you and know, with absolute certainty, that I’ll be tipping past the middle soon.

My favorite sport is fastpitch softball. I never played it, but my daughter did, and we spent many a weekend on the road to tournaments. I always used to maintain that if her team held in there until the parking lot was empty, we’d done well; that means you’re in the championship game.

If you don’t know anything about fastpitch, it’s a lot like baseball, but better. It’s rarely a slugfest, for one thing; not because the girls aren’t capable of sailing a grand slam over the fence — I’ve seen that plenty of times. No, it’s because they use a lot more tools to win the game. It’s not just hitting and bunting; it’s slapping, it’s playing the short game, it’s sac bunts, it’s movement of the ball.

Real, Actual Daughter, pitching in college

My daughter was a pitcher. She had a couple of great pitching coaches, and they didn’t dwell on how fast she could throw, though she had speed; they worked on how she could move the ball and hit her targets. Curveballs that made batters back up, only to have the umpire call ssstttrrrriiiiiiikkkkkeee!! Rise balls that inevitably had batters swatting at them, and if they connected at all, went straight up in the air for an easy catch and out. Working the umpire’s strike zone so she could get those strikes called when she needed them.

It’s never as easy as throw the ball over the plate, hit the ball, catch the ball, throw the ball. It’s about strategy and long-term goals.

My journey has never been easy. I’ve had to learn a lot of strategies to get the results I want. I’ve had to put in some long days and hard nights to get one step further down the road when it seems, at times, I’ve taken three steps back. I’ve had to overcome plenty of obstacles to get to the championship game; and when you play at this level, every game ends up being a championship game. You play it to win.

This past Tuesday, I went through my pre-surgical tests, only to be told that if my potassium levels were that low on the day of surgery, they would have to refuse me. I am on high blood pressure medicine that leaches away potassium, and chances are, I’m healthy enough now that we might have to consider backing off the dosage. In the meantime, I’ve been prescribed potassium to bring my numbers up. I’ve also been told I’m borderline anemic, which I probably brought on unknowingly when my primary doctor and I opted to experiment with thyroid medications. I’ll know when tests come back if we need to reconsider dosage on that, as well.

To confound matters, my regular doc can’t understand why my tests were perfectly normal three weeks ago, so he sent me back to the vampire (sorry… phlebotomist!) for yet another blood test. He wants to see if it comes back like the one earlier in the week. At this point, I’m beginning to feel like a pin cushion.

I managed to get my surgical clearance, but I still have work to do between now and my surgical date — my current championship, if you will. I still have to work my strategies and keep at the hard fight; not just until surgery, but until the day I’m cleared after surgery, after physical therapy, after three straight weeks of spending a total of six hours a day strapped into a CPM machine, after walking with a walker — a cane — and then unaided.

Between now and then, I still need to push forward, overcome the things that stand in my way (which there seems to be on a daily basis, right now), get through surgery, and find the strength within me to do the best job possible in recovery.

I wish I could say it’s smooth sailing from here, but the real game has just begun.

(PS: this song is dedicated to both my husband and daughter, because I know they both despise it. 😉 )

I admit that I have no idea what to write, this morning — so I’ll just tell you where I am, mentally, just a little over three weeks out from knee surgery.

That’s what weighs on my mind the most, these days. I’ve done pretty much everything I can possibly do to prepare myself, but the mental part of it gets to me at times. I feel as if time is slipping away and I haven’t done everything I planned to do, which overwhelms me. I did misjudge some things; I figured I would. It’s human nature, after all.

The rest? I know my nature well enough to have anticipated that I would feel this way, a bit. What I didn’t anticipate was needing more self-care than I allotted for. I guess, in my mind, I just figured life would continue, I’d be working away and doing the things I’d normally do, and then stop for surgery, to resume at some point after adequate time for recovery. (I’m self-employed, so that point where I feel comfortable resuming work is up to me.)

I was wrong about that. I didn’t anticipate that I’d feel so mentally claustrophobic, yearning for a breakout so I can step away from the worrying. I’ll get a brief respite this weekend, but I really should have planned for more of a mental break in preparation. After all, this is a huge thing for me; a long time in coming.

I knew over a decade ago that this day would eventually come. The same surgeon who will be performing my knee replacement told me so; I’ve had a previous surgery to remove bone spurs and mend a meniscal tear. I’ve also spent most of my adult life over 300 pounds, and I’ve done a great deal of damage to both knees. Thank goodness there’s a way to repair that, and thank goodness a second time for having taken all the necessary steps to fight for it.

I thought I’d be more excited. And — well — I am, but I’m also fearful. Aren’t we all, when we are on the brink of a major change in our lives, whether it’s marriage, starting a family, changing careers, changing focus? I suppose it’s natural that I’d be dealing with a bit of stage fright.

But this is where I am, right now, the closer I get. I have no intentions of backing away from the decision to move forward with surgery. I can’t stop, now — and I’m not considering it. My pre-surgical appointments are this coming week, as well as a follow-up with my own doctor; it’s Medical Week, I suppose. And knowing that makes this all the more real.

[As a follow-up to last week, I’ll state quickly that my blood tests came back in excellent range, and I’ll be testing in another couple of weeks to see if changes we’re trying will make a difference. I am also now 182.8 pounds down and closing in on my next short goal.]

Like big butts? I’ll be honest. I don’t like big buts. Notice the difference?

The word but has stopped me from doing a lot of things over the years. I might have said it, and if not, I certainly meant it. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone.

I’d go to that reunion, but I can’t lose 100 pounds in less than a month, so I think I’ll skip it. (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard this one; just pick whatever amount of weight and substitute it in.) I can’t possibly walk around downtown without a lot of pain, but I’d hold you back, so I won’t go.

Or the reverse: “Gosh, you look great!” “Thanks, but I still have a long way to go.” (Oh, yep, I’ve said exactly that, far too many times.)

But, but, but… I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stood in my own way and sabotaged myself with a stupid 3-letter word. BUT.

Always fight. Keep fighting. Maybe you’ll get a shrubbery out of the deal.

Guess what? I’m going to a high school alumni band reunion event in less than a month. Am I at my high school weight? Oh heck, no, and I seriously doubt few there actually are. So what? I wasn’t all that popular in high school, anyway, so — take me as I am, or it’s your loss. I am a work in progress. I no longer make apologies. Apologizing for who I am is just plain silly.

I used to not be able to walk far at all, so I felt horrible about holding other people back. Instead of letting that get me down, I worked on it. At first, I made compromises; my husband and I used a travel wheelchair so we could still go do the things we wanted without worrying about physical limitations. I graduated to planning out my trips so I’d know, for sure, I’d be able to handle it. Now, I can get around pretty darned well, even though I’ll have knee replacement surgery in 32 days. I’ll be damned if I stand in my own way and hold myself down.

Make no mistake. I had to fight hard to get where I am. I didn’t let but stand in my way. Doing the best you can do in any situation is never a compromise; giving up because you don’t want to face it? That’s not even a compromise.

I was not always a fighter. I have had to learn to dig down and find the strength to push forward, to find a way to make things work instead of letting myself down with a “but”.

Because, quite honestly, there’s always a “but” waiting to drag you down.

But is an excuse. It’s self-sabotage. It’s taking the easy way out, most of the time. But isn’t the option of someone willing to fight and keep fighting until they get what they’re after.

And I will finally get what I’m after. No ifs, ands, or… well, you know. 😉

Keep fighting, friends. That’s what I’m gonna do.

I’ve crossed the line to losing more than 180 pounds — 181 this morning. If you follow the Facebook page for this blog, you may know already that my initial goal was to lose 200 pounds. The closer I get, the more often I get the question — what’s my final weight loss goal?

I suppose it’s a natural question. After all, especially with the advent of shows like The Biggest Loser, where contestants were measured entirely by the number on a scale (and the total proportion of body weight they lost), asking for a number seems like the most obvious question. Even as recently as 40-50 pounds ago, even I had a number in mind, of sorts.

The closer I get, though, the more my perspective changes. It’s the reason I’ve stopped talking quite as much about total weight loss in this blog, although I still give numbers; I know for those who follow my journey, it’s an indicator of how I’m doing. For me, a number on the scale is not the biggest factor, so while I’ll continue to mark certain goals as I pass them, I have a bigger goal in mind. (Not to mention, finding photos that reflect the total amount lost has become a challenge!)

Eh, change has been here for the last nearly 5 years!

One of the main reasons I started this journey in the first place is because I have metabolic syndrome. (Read more here.) It’s not a disease in itself, but rather, a cluster of risk factors, usually triggered by insulin resistance as well as obesity. Now, I am more concerned about solving each of those risk factors, and dropping off prescription medication and being stable without them.

My goal is to be healthy, medically stable, medication free (if possible; I am hypothyroid, so that may be my remaining medication). Whatever weight I happen to be at when I finally cross that threshold of checking all of those boxes, will be the point when I finally decide where I’ll be weight-wise when I decide to move on to maintaining weight instead of actively seeking to lose it.

I have long believed that we have become an over-medicated society. I don’t necessarily blame doctors for this; rather, I think the system is set up to push patients through offices as quickly as possible, which often means treating symptoms rather than solving the actual root of the issue. We end up taking a laundry list of medications that likely do the job and keep us moving forward — and thank God for the souls who invented these lifesaving tools — but I believe most medications are for the purpose of assisting us to survive while we actively work on what caused the issue in the first place. Instead, so many of us simply maintain on a medication because it fixes the problem at its surface, and probably end up eventually taking higher doses or more medications down the road. It’s become normalized behavior instead of actively working to correct the base issue.

With 181 pounds gone, I felt it was high time to visit with my primary care physician and see where some of my metabolic issues stand currently, especially since I’ve lately been exhibiting symptoms of possible over-medication; considering my doses have not changed over the vast majority of my weight loss, it’s high time. I’m fortunate in that I have a doctor who fully listens to me; he has taken baseline labs and we are experimenting with one of my medications over the next few weeks. We’ll test again in three weeks.

My intention is to not only see where those metabolic markers currently are, so I can continue on this course (or correct it, if necessary), but to be as healthy as I can be before knee replacement surgery. I know I will experience some setbacks weight-wise after surgery, but I also suspect that once I get my legs back under me (both literally and figuratively!), my successes may well ramp up a bit.

While I haven’t slain all of my dragons just yet, I suspect that they’re more the size of geckos than a brontosaurus. I don’t want to get ahead of test results I haven’t yet received, but if my suspicions are true and I am ready for further changes to my medical regimen, achieving my health goals are well within my reach.

It’s a long time coming, but change is gonna come — my health is one step closer each day.