So I promised a friend a story, and you get to read it, too. Let me preface this by saying it really doesn’t have much to do with my weight loss & health journey on the face of it, but in some ways, it does. Grab a beverage and set a spell; this could take a while.

I was 18 or 19 and sharing a house with my mother after my parents’ divorce and an ugly issue with my father, where he pulled me out of college against my will. For a while, the going was tough; not long before that point, I was college-bound with full scholarships, so my life changed abruptly. My personal outlook changed from planning to become a band director to working full time at a department store.

I didn’t — I couldn’t — give up music that easily. While I still had the French horn I played in high school, it wasn’t much of a joy to me to play it alone, especially since it had been my dream. I don’t remember how or why, but somehow, I got my hands on a flute. Other than making music, there’s just not a lot in common between a flute and a horn. A flute, though, was easier to find popular music for, since it’s pitched in C (as opposed to a horn, which is pitched in F), so if I wanted to, I could play along with the radio.

Most times, if I was home alone, I had the stereo on in my room; I could hear it while I did other things, and if something came on the radio that I knew, I would run into my bedroom, grab the flute, and play along.

Until one day — when a Chicago tune came on, and I raced into my bedroom to grab my flute, only to slide in a pile of… dog leftovers, if you get me. Not only did I land on my butt, but I managed to make an even bigger mess than the dog had made. I got up, took care of my dirtied clothing, sighed, and did what any absolutely inexperienced carpet-cleaning teenager would do: I created a science experiment of every household cleaner I could find that I thought might get dog poop out of a rug. And I mixed it up in an empty glass carafe.

Nothing exploded, and I managed to clean the nastiness out of the carpet.

The dog got walked, the carpet was cleaned, and I forgot about the matter.

The next day at lunch, my mother served me homemade soup before I was to head into work on a Saturday. My mother was a decent cook, but that soup tasted a bit off and I could see some sort of oily residue swirling on the top, but good daughters don’t tell mothers that the meal isn’t up to par when they’ve gone through the trouble to make you a meal on their day off. So I shut up and I ate it.

And then I realized that she had used the same carafe that I had used for my home chemistry assignment the day before; she had poured leftovers into the carafe the previous evening, thinking it was clean, but I had just dumped the rest of the chemical arsenal down the kitchen drain and left the carafe to the side without washing it.

We both crossed our fingers that I wouldn’t suffer any after effects, but no such luck; my stomach started barking at me about an hour after I got to work, and I finally went to my supervisor and asked to go home. She was suspicious because (a) I was a teenager and (b) I was asking for the rest of the night off on a Saturday, so she made me call the operations manager for the entire store.

I was honest; I told him the entire story. And when he quit laughing, he said “go home. No one could make up all of that!”

Things I learned: if you’re gonna slide in dog poop and make your own carpet cleaner, follow through and also clean the container. Be nice to your mother, but be honest about her soup. Always tell the truth to your boss. And the flute may not be my instrument; my horn never would have done that to me. 😉

I am very grateful, though, to have returned to music.

In some ways, this is about the journey; while the story is funny now, I was lost in those days, after losing the things that I felt defined me, yet to learn that it’s not about definitions; it’s about possibilities and how we each choose to build our worlds. It’s in our hands. While I’ve faltered a lot between those days and now, I’ve also learned immeasurable amounts about myself. It’s those dimensions that now color my world and make me smile.

PS: I did eventually return to college as a double music major, even though I never did become a band director (or music therapist), but music will always be part of my life.

In case you didn’t know, November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo); it’s an international movement in which people strive to write a novel in 30 days — 50,000 words is the goal, which is more of a novella. That might sound like a lot to people who don’t write, but my average blog size is around 400-600 words, and the requirement for NaNoWriMo is 1667 words daily to meet the goal. Not all that much, really.

That said, although I’ve participated for many years and usually get a big jump early on, I’m way behind at the moment. I’ve written probably 8-10 books, and the one I’m working on right now is part of a series. While I would eventually love to sell a book, I’ve been writing for me. It’s a fun exercise to unleash my brain and let it run.

It occurred to me in the wee hours of the morning, this morning, that I’ve only had one character with a weight issue, and she successfully managed to lose the weight and keep it off. Not only that, but she had to deal with the mental aspects of what she knew about her existence and what others might think if they knew; she feared judgment. Mind you, I wrote that particular character before I decided to make this current push toward health, and in a lot of ways, I’ve become that character. I’ve lived her life, except that as I progress with my efforts, I no longer fear judgment for what I am and once was.

That means, of course, that I wrote the rest of my female characters as women who did not have weight issues that were obvious. Sure, they eat in my books. I don’t starve my characters (unless I lock them in a storm shelter and then leave them there for nearly a year — which I did with the character I’m working on. Not a real year in HER time; just mine!), but it’s rare that they really even address food, although I’ve started thinking about it.

While they say to write what you know, I’ve been writing a lot of what I don’t know. Until recently, my biggest adult experience has been as a morbidly obese woman — a perspective I haven’t chosen to write about, in part, because I think that not only has it been an uncomfortable subject for me in the past, but I also wonder how many people would really be interested in such a character. We don’t seem to mind the occasional male character who isn’t physically perfect, but we do seem to want our female characters to be more like we wish we were, ourselves.

It occurs to me, though, that as I continue to learn how to live life as a woman without the burdens of morbid obesity (because there are surely many, friends!), that I’ve had to change my mind about some things. I used to think my situation was a bit abnormal, but honestly, dealing with weight and health issues seems more the norm than I thought. So many of us struggle, even if it’s just a few pounds, or because our labs came back with high cholesterol, or we need to control blood pressure or try to avoid diabetes.

No, it’s the perfectly thin, perfectly healthy women who don’t experience these issues as they age, that don’t struggle with maintaining weight or health status, that are the unicorns among us; the minority, really. While I want to be someone like that, it’s not realistic at all — and if you’re here reading with any regularity, my bet is that it isn’t you, either.

Maybe — just maybe — I should explore that side of a character. What do you think? And by the way, my total for this blog is 638 words. 😉

On vacation, I did the fun stuff — hanging with friends, listening to music, enjoying yet another adventure in places I’ve never been, before. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience; from the weather to the surroundings to the events to the food. And oh, was there ever a lot of excellent food!

We’re not sure exactly how it happened, but the cabin I was in was tagged as VIP. I swear, nearly every evening when I returned to the cabin, there were food gifts; fruit, sweets, savories, all from the cruise line. What a thing for someone that’s lost nearly 200 pounds — all the food you want! That, along with several VIP-type invites. To say I was spoiled is an understatement, and if I had wanted to, I could have gone to some events I’ll likely never be invited to, again. But I didn’t. I needed something entirely different.

To say I wasn’t all that happy when I stepped on the scales after leaving the cruise is also an understatement, but I also expected the result. That’s just the way it is; if I take a food holiday, I have to pay the piper, which means working once again through pounds gained. I could beat myself up and say I could have made better choices, but I was fully aware of the consequences of my choices when I made them. I enjoyed the food, the drink. I feasted, and now I fast; both have a place in a balanced life.

That’s a much better response than knowing food vacations will cause weight gain, not accepting it, and choosing to never go back on plan. Been there, done that, and couldn’t fit in the t-shirt because of it. Understanding consequences is a necessary level of acceptance and progress.

Part of this trip was also about introspection; I had a cabin and time to be with myself, quiet moments by the water, just thinking and letting the stresses of real-life leave me. I felt a lot of things, especially as my birthday came and went while at sea, realizing that I’m aging more than I realized. Losing weight is great, but it also has the effect of removing the support under my skin, and my wrinkles are becoming more prominent. I am not a vain woman, but it did catch me by surprise when I saw my reflection in the stark outdoor light.

At one point, I found myself feeling anxious — and then realized that what I was feeling was just the absence of noise. Some run from that silence; I need it. Sometimes, it’s absolutely necessary to find ways to eliminate the noise of reality and to allow me to simply feel and work through whatever happens to be on my mind without interruption. Reality and all the challenges I’ve faced, lately, have prevented me from having that ability to tune everything out and listen to my own inner voice. To figure things out. That’s an important part of my process in working toward success, and one I haven’t fully embraced, lately.

Eliminating the noise of life brings out the music that we sometimes can’t hear until we silence everything else. And the sound of silence can be everything we need to heal.

I’ve been preparing for a trip; a vacation with a dear friend, off to discover places I’ve never been to. She’s someone I first “met” on the internet; and while some might think it’s weird, that’s nothing new to me. Friends are friends, regardless of the venue that brings you together in the first place.

The first time I actually met someone I first knew, online, was back in around 1993 or 1994. We knew each other through a crafts bulletin board; we were (and still are!) both knitters, so we had something in common. She lived relatively close, and we had talked on the phone a few times after many online chats. And yes, I was a pretty large woman, back then, and the fear of actually meeting someone face to face scared me.

If you choose, there’s something very anonymous about internet friendships; we can be whoever we want to be, whoever we put forward and create. I’ve found that most people I’ve met over the course of the years have either been exactly as I imagined they would be, because they were always true to themselves, or they were far different from their online persona.

While I hope I’ve always strived to be exactly who I am, that doesn’t mean I didn’t immediately worry about being judged, and the biggest reason I’ve ever had for thinking I would be judged harshly is my weight. I’ve been in groups that arranged group meets and we’ve all kidded about “hey, can I lose 100 pounds between now and next week?”, but most of my friends didn’t really need to do that. It’s just that first face-to-face insecurity most of us have, rising to the surface, and hopefully, that sense of otherness dissipates quickly. We judge ourselves much more harshly than others do; they see the friendship and beauty, and we pick at the scabs and apologize for not being better, somehow.

While I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone to meet friends in a variety of places I haven’t been, before, I admit that my first big trip with my travel buddy was a step out in complete trust; we weren’t just meeting up to hang out for a weekend. It was big! We both flew down to Houston, hung out a couple of days with another great friend, and then took off on a cruise for a week. This wasn’t lunching at a restaurant; this was leaving the country.

And in my case, it was also a matter of trusting my body to meet the challenges of travel, since I’d just had my first of two total knee replacements the previous spring.

This will be our third adventure together, heading off on a cruise to places neither of us has been previously. I’m off to California, first; another place I’ve never been to. Sure, I’m nervous; not because of my friend, because we’ve known each other, now, for roughly 16 years — but I’m nervous for all the normal reasons. Will I remember to pack everything? Will I lay awake half of the night, imagining I misplaced my passport?

This is the normal stuff of life; I’m no longer worried about being judged because of my weight. My anxieties are the normal ones, instead of fearing I might be told I need to buy an extra airline seat. Or nervously having to ask for a seatbelt extender. Or have to deal with having an airport employee push me around in an airport-supplied wheelchair. Because I’ve been there. I’ve had to deal with each and every one of those fears, and plenty more.

Now, leaving for a vacation takes on a new level of excitement, because living without those limitations means I have less to obsess about. It’s my nature to obsess, but busting down those worries means there are a lot fewer things on my mind, and a greater willingness to set out on an adventure.

Every year for the past twenty or so, we’ve gone to the annual WeinFest. I secretly look forward to it every year because I consider it my unofficial birthday; it’s a weekend of relaxing, having fun, drinking wine, sometimes just my husband and I — and sometimes with family and friends.

Last weekend, I had the pleasure of spending it with my husband as well as my daughter and her little growing family — her husband and young son. Being able to enjoy the weekend in an unlimited way is one of the biggest goals and joys of having been on my journey; it used to be that I couldn’t do much of anything on my own, but that’s hardly the case, anymore. And while I totally sucked at it, I even entered one of the throwing competitions and totally won a sympathy bottle of wine.

Free wine, people! Free wine!

Along with the joy was the aftermath, though — not only weight gain, but also a recognition that I remain sensitive to those who make off-hand remarks about my eating choices. I intentionally chose to eat off plan, and while I know the intention wasn’t rude, someone made a comment about my food choices, and it hit me exactly where I am apparently still sensitive. It helps me to understand context and intention; those are rational thoughts, though, and my immediate reaction was emotional.

I’m also a little ashamed to admit that the food I was eating at the time wasn’t even all that good, but I ate it, anyway, partially because I felt like I would be giving in to someone else’s opinion if I chose not to eat it. That was a ridiculous reaction on my part; I always have the right to eat or push something away if it’s not what I really wanted.

I have moved on from that, except to note that this may be something I will always need to work on. I have been silently — and not so silently — judged my entire life for my eating choices. My father callously made comments about my weight and my diet, despite the fact that I was hardly overweight at the time and he was not exactly a good role model, himself. Yet here I am, on the brink of 58 years old, clearly remembering the sharp bite of my father’s critical words.

As expected, I also put on weight that gained much faster than I’ve been able to lose it, and that process always makes me a bit introspective, especially as close as I am to being at a weight goal. Last weekend was the first of food holidays; I have a major one coming up, so I must remember that I can’t be too harsh a critic of myself, either. And also remember that not every bite is worth it; while I may have grown up in a family where I felt obligated to eat what was put in front of me, that’s no longer the case. I have the power of choice, and as I head toward my next excursion, I’d do well to remind myself that I am the only person who decides how I care for myself.

Nearly every weight loss commercial I’ve ever seen has promised a certain amount of loss within a given amount of time. Many have inferred that loss would be constant after that point; a certain amount per week until you reach your goal.

My experience has been far removed from that. Sometimes, I lose a surprising amount of weight in just a matter of days; other times, my body stubbornly clings to a certain weight range no matter what methods I try to push beyond that.

When I lost 140 pounds back in my early 40’s, my weight loss was fairly consistent. I quickly saw a pattern develop, and for the year and a half or so that I was in weight loss mode, I could count on that sense of consistency. Well, at least until I stalled out and remained at the same weight (or gradually above) for well over two years. After that point, I gained weight rapidly, and my attempts at losing weight again stubbornly refused to adhere to what I had come to know during my biggest effort to that point.

In the low carb world, some refer to this as the One Golden Shot (http://www.lowcarbluxury.com/goldenshot.html) theory; in short, you get one good effort at losing weight easily on low carb, and after that, any subsequent attempts become a lot more difficult.

As I teeter on the narrow edge of losing a total of 200 pounds (two-tenths of a pound away!), I have my own theory on that, and I think of it often, like now, when my weight loss isn’t necessarily cooperating. It’s several levels deep.

I’m not as young as I used to be. This is a universal thing; the first time any of us try a different method of weight loss, not only will our bodies respond differently, but we’re as young as we’ll ever be. In my early 40’s, my body constitution was different; I wasn’t in menopause, I likely wasn’t as deeply entrenched in metabolic syndrome, and a major one for me: my knees hadn’t completely disintegrated. I’m older, now, and I have faced different challenges, so it’s natural that my body has reacted differently.

It wasn’t a Golden Shot. If anything, I’ve proved that theory wrong; being persistent and being willing to learn and commit to permanent change has resulted in much greater loss — and better health, which is the bigger goal. Unequivocally, all of us are older when we try, again, and all of our bodies change over time. No matter what method you choose, it will not necessarily work the same as it did, before, for that simple reason.

Body Set Points. I’ve found there are weights my body seems to like, and I have to be persistent with my methods to get my body to move beyond them to the next set point. Any time we embark on weight loss methods, we fight our body’s built-in defense mechanisms and predisposition to stay at a certain weight. Until my body understands that I’m not trying to kill it, I can expect that it will trigger mechanisms — like hunger — in an effort to protect itself. Eventually, I firmly believe each set point will reset lower, but it takes the commitment to stick it out.

I have, at this point, .2 pounds to lose to achieve a total loss of 200 pounds. My target range beyond that is to lose another 7 to 10 pounds, but at this point, I have learned that my body will pick its own time to release weight. Until then, I persevere.

Other Factors, like stress. For my body — and likely, just about everyone who deals with a great deal of excess weight to lose — there are factors that have nothing to do with what I eat that affect my weight. These factors must all be in the right ranges for my weight to move downward; they include getting enough sleep, drinking enough water, getting adequate exercise, and alleviating stress, which includes self-care. If any of these factors are lacking, my results suffer.

On top of this, I’ve learned how unpredictable my body is these days, which I think is a result of dealing with the challenges of health risks as well as just getting older. Instead of a nice, steady decline over time, my charted weight loss looks more like a tracking a drunk mule on a rampage than it does an orderly spreadsheet. This is one of many reasons I look for other indicators of success than simply a weight chart; other things are happening within my body that don’t show up on a scale. For instance, I walked the equivalent of a 5K this morning, so my body is holding onto water for muscle repair, as it has been for much of the week. I can feel it, and I know it will release when my body is done with it.

All of this is to say that I think the theory of One Golden Shot is a dangerous mindset to accept; rather, all of us who have extra weight to lose have to consider the entire condition of our bodies and meet each of those challenges without the hindrance of thinking that we blew our chance. The ability to change is a mindset, and anything that challenges that mindset should be thrown out. I refuse to throw away my shot at success because of “theories” that don’t apply to me — or to many of us.

I am always very hesitant to give weight loss advice. I firmly believe that everyone must find their own way, but that doesn’t seem to stop people from asking. So, without further bloviating, here’s my updated weight loss advice:

1. Change your mind first. Without healing your mind, your weight loss will be temporary.
2. Be a scientist on your own behalf. Obesity is a symptom; the result of something else, and often a combination of many factors, both physical and mental. Don’t stop learning until you figure it out. Don’t just treat the symptom; be diligent about treating the causes.
3. Don’t go on a diet. Diets are temporary. If you want longterm success, you must commit to making longterm changes.
4. Know your own nature. If you know your lifelong tendency is to change everything at once, get frustrated, and quit — then don’t intentionally repeat the same pattern. Instead, experiment and make small changes. You have time.
5. Throw away expectations and time tables. They are not your friends. It’s great to dream of what your future might be like, but you should be living in the present.
6. Understand that everything comes at a price. Be willing to pay it. Changing yourself is an emotionally expensive process, but well worth the investment.
7. Learn to juggle. Your life will change, and those changes will not always be what you expect.
8. Keep being you. Extreme weight loss may change your perspective and your ways of thinking, but you are essentially the same person. Often, the outside world thinks you are not; don’t believe them.
9. Sail your own course and adjust when necessary. Don’t restrict your options, but don’t swing with the wind, either.
10. Insulate yourself from opinions. Everyone has one when it comes to losing weight; the entire diet industry thrives not only on selling you an ideal — but on the nearly 100% chance that you’ll fail. Always remember that. Find your own path without them.
11. Be realistic when choosing your path. You must be able to live with the solutions you choose, or you will set yourself up for failure.
12. Shortcuts lead to failure. Avoid them. This is not a race. Progress is incremental.
13. Do your own research. Reject common myths and see them for what they are. It’s your body; find out how it works without trusting commonly held assumptions that may not apply to your situation.
14. Enjoy life. Don’t punish yourself. There are times for celebration and times for contemplation.
15. Enlist support. Make yourself accountable. Stop hiding. We’re all in this together.

No, I won’t tell you how I did it; I had to find my own way. I don’t mind discussing things one on one, but in a public forum, I won’t endorse any single methodology. Figuring out what works for each of us is mandatory hard work, and shying away from it is a surefire way to invite failure.

Besides, I’m only an expert on what works for me. I can’t tell you what will work for you; only you know that. Trust that you can find your way.

I’ve spent the last few weeks writing about the range of emotions I’ve felt as I’ve looked over the past six years of my journey. Finally, now, I find myself in a place I’ve never really been on any previous attempt toward health.

I am ready.

Ready to take on the shift into maintenance, certainly, as I come steadily nearer to the balancing point where my focus will adjust to seeing what my body is now capable of doing.

Ready to enjoy and experience the things this body can do so much better, now, and love every moment.

Ready to conquer any further mental battles needed to prevent ever going back where I’ve been, before.

That’s really the biggest part for me — my thought processes undid 140 pounds of progress over a decade ago, my biggest and most successful effort to that point in my life — and also my biggest failure.

I thought I had everything figured out. I didn’t reach my final weight destination, but my biggest issue wasn’t getting the weight off; it was changing my thinking. I didn’t do the necessary mental and emotional work, and I betrayed myself into regaining every single pound, as well as every regret I thought I had cast off.

I no longer deal with the mental clutter that I did, then; I was much more likely to gloss over the warning signs and insist I was right than to dig in and work at the things that needed solutions. I wasn’t truthfully open to learning what I needed to learn. Now, I don’t find myself fearful of those same situations or surprised by the changes in the ways the world perceives me.

As I’ve said, previously, that failure was largely because I didn’t commit to the necessary mental changes, and the speed of my weight loss contributed to that. My 140-pound loss was over the course of a bit more than a year; that might seem like a long time, but it’s a drop in the bucket when considering how much mental work needed to be done, and that doesn’t happen overnight. Taking things slowly has allowed me the great opportunity to examine both mental and physical issues and figure them out. At first, I saw the slow loss as a curse; now I see it as a gift.

I know my future will still hold challenges to what I believe about both my body and mind. This is true for all of us, but in the past, how I chose to approach those challenges often defeated me. My reactions are different, now, and I must always remain aware so I don’t slide back into unhealthy reactions, but I’m stronger. I know how to deal with them.

I’m just slightly above the weight goal I set over 6 years ago. I never once believed I would achieve it; I just knew that I needed to lose about 200 pounds, so I picked it. In some ways, I think it was an apology and a recognition that I knew I was that much overweight, and maybe if people knew I was admitting to it, maybe I could relieve some of the guilt I felt over being morbidly obese. Yet, here I am, just a couple of pounds away from that number. I’ve since decided to go a little bit further, but not by much; only in an attempt to get to a weight that is no longer considered obese.

The nature of the work will change and continue once I reach that mark; nothing stops when I magically cross that 30 BMI marker. It just takes on a different focus and the work will be equal to what I’ve put in.

The journey will continue, and I am ready, like never before.

Another feeling I’ve experienced since my 6th anniversary a couple of weeks ago, more so this week than, perhaps, ever: disbelief.

Among the reasons I failed and regained all my weight (plus more!) over a decade ago included stubbornly refusing to consider changing what I was doing, despite espousing the belief that I should always be a scientist on my own behalf. I may have said it, but didn’t internalize it. In short, I refused to consider changing up things to see if I could pinpoint where my issues were.

I have been much more flexible during this journey. I’ve adapted, reviewed, talked to doctors, received feedback and recommendations. I’ve recognized that the more tools I have in my arsenal, the more likely I am to be successful, once I move into a maintenance phase. I’m beginning to see what that’s going to look like, too.

After some experimentation, I’ve found yet another tool and have managed to start losing weight, again. I also met with my primary care physician for my annual wellness check earlier in the week and had a great report; my numbers are pretty darned impressive. I’ve managed to reverse many of the precursors to debilitating illnesses and I’m slaying that multi-faced dragon of metabolic syndrome.

I knew my numbers would be good. I had hopes of coming off one of my medications, but my body isn’t quite yet ready; we’ll review again. That was really the only even slightly negative part of the visit, for me, although all it means, in reality, is that I’ll just have to wait a little longer. Look how long I’ve already waited; a couple more months is nothing at all. Time takes on a different perspective when you’ve been at this as long as I have.

I’ll also put out there that I have been looking forward and planning on how I will handle moving into maintenance once I reach a certain point in my health. My goal has been to improve health markers as much as possible. My doctor and I discussed that, and essentially, the only health marker that’s any sort of concern is the one I am still on medication for. There’s the possibility that I may need to remain on it, but then he surprised me.

I asked for his input on when I should consider my goals done and move into maintenance. I haven’t asked him this, before, and he’s been my doc for the entire time I’ve been actively working on this goal. I told him my thoughts related to gearing my results on my health, referencing the numbers before both he and I, and I also mentioned the rumor that my health insurance provider will soon be requiring a BMI less than 30 or insured people will have to take mandated weight loss classes. He laughed just a bit at that. The idea, at this point, of having to take a weight loss class when I’ve lost more than half of my body without their help is just funny.

I told him the number that would get me under 30 BMI. He said that was a good number for me, despite that putting me in the overweight* (instead of obese) category. He said that to lose much more than that would be an unreasonable expectation; that he can tell when people are nearing their goals, and by looking at me, he firmly believes I don’t have far at all to go.

What a great thing to hear! Honestly, while I’ve been kicking around these thoughts for quite some time, having them confirmed by my doctor seemed surreal. I can’t tell you how many times I have been in the doctor’s office in tears because I felt powerless over my weight. Or how many times I have wondered if I’ve just convinced myself of something that wasn’t at all true.

Friends, that suggested final weight is less than 15 pounds away. I’ve become one of those people who “just have 15 or 20 pounds to lose” — that might have been me when I was a teenager, but certainly not me any time in the interim, even the last time I lost a bunch of weight. I used to want to throat punch people who have said that in front of me when I quite obviously had many times that number to lose. I’d smile, but inside, I thought oh, please! Just shut up, already!

It’s also on the other side of a 200-pound loss; just for reference, take a look at that cute critter to the left (that happens to be dangerous, despite looking like something out of a cute cartoon). That’s all that stands between me and weighing 200 pounds less than when I started. My intent had always been to lose 200, not that I really believed it.

(And yes, if you’ve been a reader for a while, you may remember that I used to do weight comparisons for what I’d lost — until most of the images were of other people’s weight loss. So now, when nt weight chances, I’ll show you what’s left to lose.)

Hearing him say that left me in disbelief. I expected to be told differently, I realized. After all, I’ve been told that any number of times previously by different medical professionals.

Now? I believe in miracles — ones I’ve actively worked hard to create. You’d better believe it!

*Two factors regarding shooting for a span of “overweight” instead of the time-accepted height/weight ranges:

1. Studies now show that being overweight (as opposed to obese) in older adulthood can lead to better health and a longer life.
2. While there’s no way to be sure without surgery, the estimate of excess skin on my body is likely between 20 and 30 pounds, so any final weight has to accommodate my actual body weight without excess skin.

Last week, I started talking about the things I’ve been feeling since my 6th anniversary of starting my journey to better health. Then, it was the guilt I’ve felt over not having done something to help myself sooner; so much has changed for me, including rising out of depressive episodes that were no doubt based on physiology that has now been corrected, including accurate diagnosis of hypothyroid. Any of you who have been through that fight know how difficult it is to get the medical community to seriously consider it, use the proper tests, and then accurately monitor dosage.

Today, now that my 6th anniversary is in the rearview mirror, I’m happy to tell you that I’m amazed. I’m amazed to have made it this far. I’m amazed to have a variety of tools I can use to help me as I move into my maintenance phase. I’m amazed that I’ve done this without any number of prepackaged meals, products, or programs. I’m amazed with the sheer amount of learning I’ve done — not just about my own physiology and how it reacts to various input (food, exercise), but about the workings of my own brain, which has strengthened me to a point where I can say with confidence that I know I will meet my goals. And mostly, I’m pretty amazed that I’ve remained tenacious and haven’t given up!

I am amazed, at this writing, to be one mere pound away from my previous low weight. I did some tweaking recently, and it worked; not only has the weight I recently gained dropped off, but it’s done so quickly, and I learned some things from the experience. It also helped me land solidly back on my path; I hadn’t strayed, but I’m human and I do fight frustration when my body doesn’t act the way I want it to act.

Earlier this week, I had my annual wellness labs done. I’ll be in the doctor’s office on Monday for the rest, and to review the results. I have no doubts that the numbers will be great. And to think, six years ago, I hated going into the doctor’s office; I would end up crying in frustration over my weight, and the doctor couldn’t really offer me much in the way of solutions. I had to find them on my own.

And, quite honestly, I’m glad now that I had to find my solutions on my own, and fight for them. I firmly believe, looking back over the past six years, that the quality of the results I’ve had are directly related to the quality of the work I’ve put in. I didn’t get to this point by stubbornly adhering to only one belief; I did that, once, and while my loss was good, it eventually stopped working because I didn’t truly understand why I stopped losing. Instead, I got frustrated and gave up. Mind you, that was after a two-year stall, but I still finally just gave in instead of researching why what I was doing was no longer working. Seriously, even with two knee replacement surgeries, I haven’t had stalls like that! Why couldn’t I recognize that I needed to change something? I said, even then, that we should all be scientists on our own behalf, but I didn’t put those words into action.

I was spending at least two hours a day in exercise; walking and weight lifting. I was in my 40’s and could squat my former weight of 340 pounds. (Keep in mind that is not now my all-time high.) The truth is, though, that you can’t exercise off weight; what you put in your mouth won’t be fully expended in the gym. Not only wasn’t it working for me — I was hurting myself by pushing ever harder. I ended up with injuries. But I stubbornly adhered to my diet, knowing it wasn’t working, and hoping my body would just cooperate. It didn’t. But it sure did pile on the weight once I stopped.

This is the biggest reason why I don’t share publicly how I have lost weight; I solidly believe that the best rate of success is a result of finding your own path and being willing to experiment. Read. Be open to new concepts, or old ones that have come to light. Educate yourself. Try. Be flexible. Be determined to find something you can live with long term.

Then you, too, can be amazed.