First things, first: my updated loss now stands at 74.2 pounds — and that means I’ve met another goal. 74.2 pounds of loss is equal to 20% of my starting body weight, and while I have a long way to go, yet, the benefits of weight loss are paying off.

74 pounds of cocker spaniel. I can relate, dog.

From the song Ripple (Grateful Dead):

Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow

One of the things that often keeps me from starting on a diet is the overwhelming feeling of doom when I realize how much weight I have to lose, total. It’s daunting to realize that the “healthy” weight range for someone of my height and age is between 109 and 136 pounds. I remember weighing around 125 to 130, and feeling like I looked pretty good at that weight. Realistically, though, I’m not shooting for that range. I was 19 years old when I weighed 125; I’ll never be 19, again.

Not to mention, even at the top of the range, that would mean a total weight loss of 235 pounds, the rough equivalent of losing a linebacker. Possible? Absolutely, but had I decided my final number the moment I found out my starting weight, when I was in a bad mental place, I would have considered it too high a mountain to climb. I might still be sitting at the bottom of the mountain, and watching it grow even bigger.

This is why having manageable goals is important. It’s been a successful strategy so far; I know I can achieve these small goals, and they add up as I progress, much like the ever-increasing size of ripples when you throw a pebble in the water. I have a lot of goals; I had a cluster of several within the past few weeks, which hasn’t detracted from meeting each of them. My final goal of this cluster was to pass that 20% mark. I’ll probably use 25% as my next goal to achieve.

The nice thing about looking at percentages of weight loss as goals is that there are quick gains to losing a relatively small amount; there are health benefits to reap at 5% – 10%, which is great news. Just about everyone out there can achieve a 5% reduction in total body weight; if you weigh 200 pounds, that’s a 10 pound loss. Some benefits are hidden, such as changes in cholesterol numbers, blood pressure, insulin resistance.

Others are more immediately noticeable; the less weight I carry, the more my knees actually like me, again. I’m able to stand and walk for longer periods of time. Just moving is easier. Breathing is easier. My quality of sleep has improved. It’s done wonders for my self-image.

The amount of pain I have from arthritis has decreased; and why wouldn’t it? There’s a huge difference between when I started, and now — roughly the equivalent of carrying a full grown labrador retriever everywhere. Before I started this journey, I did that with every step I took. Carrying great amounts of physical weight is a huge strain on the body.

I became a certified diver at a time in my life when I’d lost a great deal of weight and was pretty fit. When I did my open dive, I had to wear my scuba gear and walk down a hill to the water’s edge; the estimated weight it added to my body was between 60 and 80 pounds (depending on tank size, etc.), and to suddenly feel that increased weight being carried awkwardly on my back was quite the reality check. And that was only part of the weight I’d lost.

Quite honestly, while I’m thrilled with my recent progress after a bit of a dry period, I’m more impressed with my changing body. Over just the last few weeks, I’ve noticed that I don’t need to use my cane nearly as often as I did, previously, and my bad knee days seem to be stretched farther apart. Because one of my knees can lock without warning, I carry my cane with me at all times, but more often than not, I leave it folded up and in my purse.

This could be a direct result of carrying less actual weight, but it’s also likely that my ability to balance my body is improving, because my weight distribution is changing. I don’t feel like I might lose my footing as I walk — or not as often as I used to. I also know, from previous experience, that carrying a great amount of excess weight changes how I walk, because I have to compensate for my weight as I move. (This is likely the reason you see heavy people who seem to lumber when they walk.)

Regardless of the reasons, these improvements and benefits would still be in unvisited territory, had I not taken the first step and set my first goal. As I continue, the rewards of weight loss accumulate, and I’d be a fool to turn back, now!

First things, first: I’ve broken through another goal! I’m now down 72.2 pounds. Now for the blog…

Heaven on earth with an onion slice.

Imagine it’s 72 pounds of cheeseburger.

Today is, in fact, National Cheeseburger Day, and no one praised the virtue of the cheeseburger better than Jimmy Buffet.

In fact, the beginning of the song talks about how he watched his diet intake for nearly 70 days — but dreamed of cheeseburgers.

Tried to amend my carnivorous habits.
Made it nearly seventy days,
Losin’ weight without speed, eatin’ sunflower seeds,
Drinkin’ lots of carrot juice and soakin’ up rays.

But at night I’d have these wonderful dreams
Some kind of sensuous treat.
Not zucchini, fettuccini, or bulgur wheat,
But a big warm bun and a huge hunk of meat.

Cheeseburger is paradise.
Heaven on earth with an onion slice.
Not too particular, not too precise.

I can relate. I’ve made it past two years, and while I don’t subsist on sunflower seeds and carrot juice, I do have food cravings. Sometimes, they’re very strong. It’s not like they’ve disappeared just because I’ve been successful on a diet.

A few weeks back, I wanted nothing more than a cupcake with four inches of frosting on it, which I don’t believe is on anyone’s diet, unless they need to gain weight — and even then, I think they’d choose other methods. I also crave things I can have, but in limited supply; I want them more often than my body allows.

Like a big, juicy cheeseburger, for instance, stacked with pepper jack or cheddar cheese oozing down the sides, sauteed onions, crispy bacon, tomatoes, maybe even some sauteed mushrooms. And yes, a bun! Perfect if it were rye bread, but a sourdough or regular bun will do just fine.

My husband and I belong to a club that holds its monthly meetings in a bar and grill that serves really good cheeseburgers; big ones, juicy, with whatever you want on them. And while I could technically eat one with no bun, the caloric content would be so high that I’d barely be able to eat anything else for the rest of the day. I’d have to be satisfied with half of one, and while I could do that, my economical nature screams at the idea of paying that kind of money for half a hamburger and throwing away the other half — along with the fries. Plus, there’s just something about restaurant food that keeps me from losing; perhaps it’s the amount of salt, eating later than usual, or some unknown item that’s used to add taste to food but might not truly be allowed on my plan.

So every time I walk in the door, there, I end up with a choice: eat that hot, juicy, flavorful chunk of meat, cheese, and bacon, and fuss at the results on the scale in the morning, or choose more wisely, and hope that the scale remains the same or goes down a bit.

Don’t believe for a second that I don’t crave good food. In fact, as a longtime dieter, if I plan a cheat meal and it turns out to be disappointing, I feel absolutely ripped off. If I’ve gone outside of my normal parameters, I want every taste to be savory and worth the probable setback. Every single meal, especially the ones I eat out, becomes a choice between good and evil; or more accurately, between a reason to be proud of myself, or more self-loathing. My metabolism is slow enough that I have had to accept that even the smallest deviation means I’ll pay for it in one way or another.

I can sit around and boohoo about it being so unfair that I can’t occasionally enjoy a treat without consequences, but that’s the way it is; no different than anyone else who is restricted in some way from being able to enjoy something they truly like, and not necessarily food. There are cat lovers who are allergic to cat hair; outdoor lovers with bad reactions to mosquito bites. I’ve learned that it’s give-and-take. If I choose the cheeseburger, I choose the consequences of having it — the risk of a higher number on the scale, fair or not.

The good side of this is that I no longer eat mindlessly. I record everything I eat and drink, so simply sitting around and snacking on something that’s not on my diet, and shrugging it off, just isn’t part of my world. When I do occasionally satisfy that yearning for food that’s not on my plan, I choose everything with care, and I don’t bother with things that are mediocre. I want every bite to be worth taking. If I find something disappointing, I’m likely not to finish it at all, whereas before, I’d still eat that half-cold mound of fries or that bland piece of cake.

If I step on the scale after a well-planned cheat that’s worth every bite, and the scale is higher than I want, I’m not shaken by it; I know that otherwise, I have every reason to be proud and strong in what I’ve accomplished, and to continue on that track. If I step on the scale after a mindless cheat that I’m in denial about, and I already feel bad for losing control, and I see a higher number on the scale, I’ve done more than set myself back physically; I’ve penalized myself mentally. Enough of that, and I’m in danger of going off plan altogether — and my self-worth goes down because I’ve lost control over my body.

Being successful is full of constant head games like this, but in the long run, it’s about the small choices we make every day.

“But if you try sometimes, you might find you get what you need.”

Come here, skinny people!

And this week, that means learning a bit of patience when what you expect doesn’t happen.

I’m so close to my next goal — so close! — so when the three-day holiday weekend hit and I didn’t eat as cleanly as I have been, I paid for it — and I regret it. If I’m going to nudge outside my normal boundaries, the food should be high quality and worth it; it wasn’t as good as I’d hoped, and the worst part? I paid for it on the scales with a 3.4 pound gain. I have yet to lose about two pounds of it, because it wants to hang on for dear life this week.

My body’s been quite good to me, lately, losing easier than it has in some time, so I (mistakenly) thought it would come off easily. While I have some of it off to this point, it’s not all gone, and yes, I’m irritated. By the numbers, it should be coming off, because I know it’s water; I track everything that goes into my mouth and the math equaling a gain of this nature just isn’t there. Scientifically speaking, I know that. I overate, but not by that much — perhaps 200 calories on one day, and 100 calories on the other two.

If 300 calories of overeating now equals over three pounds of gain, we’re all screwed, friends. Watch out for Thanksgiving! 😉

I’m kidding, of course, but I have been frustrated and doubtful this week, which is absolute silliness. For the past couple of months, I’ve been used to seeing routine losses on the scales; when my daughter got married, I saw an expected gain, and it was off quickly. But these couple of pounds are being stubborn, and all sorts of stupid thoughts have been knocking around my brain, including that little voice that sneaks in from nowhere and starts whispering failure! FAILURE!

How utterly and overly dramatic. It’s a good reminder to me that despite recent successes, I am not past the head-games; I’m fully in them, despite being strong. Making ugly faces at the scale when it’s not being cooperative is something we all probably do, but letting that veer me off-course with negative self-talk is just asking for trouble. I suddenly wanted to adjust what I was doing, and it’s far too early for that.

This is especially true, because I have a lot of indicators of success at my disposal, of which the scale is just one, and all of those other indicators, without fail, are telling me the opposite: I’m doing well, and I should keep doing what I’m doing.

(A minor brag: now that it’s coming on to cooler weather, I have on a pair of jeans I last wore last spring, and they were tight-but-wearable. Still, I feared that infamous People Of Walmart Bubble Butt Syndrome; I was constantly making sure I wasn’t showing plumber’s butt. Today? They fit perfectly and I don’t have to worry about traumatizing anyone. Win!)

Being impatient is at the root of a lot of unreasonable diet behavior, including giving up, and I won’t have it. I’ll continue to watch the scale for a couple of weeks, and only then, once I’ve reviewed the data I collect each and every day, I’ll determine a course of action if it’s necessary. Changing things that have been working for several months because I have one week that isn’t perfect is absolute nonsense.

My overreaction is getting outvoted by patience and persistence, and maybe I’ll break through my next goal next week. Regardless, I know I will sometime in the near future, and until then, I’m dedicated to keeping up the good fight.

Cravings are unusual for me, but I’ve sure dealt with them for the last week or so. I haven’t given in, and I can proudly report that I’m now a mere 1.6 pounds above my low; another 2.4 pounds down this week. I would be thrilled if I can sustain an average loss of around 2 pounds a week.

This is downright creepy.

Now, back to those cravings. Not only is it unusual for me to crave anything, but I was craving sweets — and I had a baby shower to attend; lots of sweets on the table, and thankfully, a few veggies. That’s what I survived on.

While I’m not a sweets person in the least — give me the choice between a chocolate eclair and a soft pretzel with plenty of salt, and you can keep that eclair — but I saw cupcakes topped with a ton of frosting, and I was nearly undone.

What the heck? This, for me, was an unusual experience. I teased friends that I was going to watch them eat cupcakes vicariously because I couldn’t have one, but I could image the taste, the texture, the confectionery goodness hitting my tongue in an explosion of sweetness.

Likewise, I’ve seen food photos on Facebook that have made me wish reaching through the screen and grabbing that food for myself were a real thing, and they weren’t all sweets. What’s up with this? It seems to have passed, now, but for a few days there, while I never felt myself in danger of going off my diet, the lust for a number of foods was strong.

My way of dealing with it? Well… I just didn’t eat the food. Yes, it was that simple, but hardly easy. My toughest day was the day of the shower; the small amount of vegetables available wasn’t really enough to satisfy me, and I felt weird about taking a meal’s worth of grape tomatoes and celery from a shower food table. (So I didn’t.) My husband was next door at a friend’s house; I went there, afterward, and he wasn’t ready to leave — by this point, I could have gnawed the leg off a dining room table. And what did they have, there?

Pizza.

Yes, I can scrape the toppings off pizza and have it (I am a low carber), but these were thin crust pepperoni and cheese pizzas. I would have had to scrape half of a pizza to have enough cheese and pepperoni to actually make a small meal. Eventually, I managed to scrounge and ended up with some turkey slices and cheese, which saved the day, but it was also a reminder that I should be prepared for such occasions.

Believe me, I have earned every ounce of the 2.4 pounds I lost this week, and I’m thankful the cravings appear to have gone away. I have a bigger challenge next weekend, but I have a plan in place — and great hopes of finally breaking through my low weight.