I’ve done it — I’ve lost 25% of my original starting weight. 1/4th of me has gone missing. 93 pounds GONE!

Think of it. One FOURTH of my body is no longer here. I still have all of my body parts; nothing has suddenly gone missing. There’s just less of me.  A lot less.

One fourth of a cake, GONE.

I’ve lost mostly fat and some muscle along the way. After all, it takes a fair amount of muscle to move someone of my weight, even presently; as that fat goes away, so does a little bit of muscle. Some of the changes I’ve experienced follow — and I expect these to be amplified as I continue.

The effort to pick up that weight and move it is much less, and that alone has made me healthier. I walk farther. I stand longer. I have more energy and stamina. My knees thank me every day because they don’t scream at me the way they used to. I don’t wobble (quite as much) when I walk. I don’t have as much pain from arthritis — both because the weight my body has to bear is less, and my body isn’t as wildly out of proportion as it was.

All the good doctor’s reports go along with it; my blood tests are stellar, my doctor seems pleased. There’s still a bit of room for improvement, but as you’d expect, the effects of losing weight increase proportionally to the amount lost.

As for my size, I’m starting to see the more pronounced effects of large-scale weight loss. Sure, there’s the changes in clothing size, but my rings and my shoes are looser. I expect that my shoe size will decrease as I continue to lose; not in width, but in length. (This has happened before.) Morbid obesity presses the foot flat, and I normally have a high arch; as the weight decreases, the arch increases and my shoe size changes.

It’s easier to drive our vehicles. There’s a lot more room between my gut and the steering wheel. I’m also finding I have to adjust the rear view mirror a bit because having a substantial posterior not only made me taller in the seat, but pushed me out from the seat so I’ve had to move the seat position up slightly.

Theater seats? Comfy, now. Airplane seats? I don’t know about those — it’ll be a while before I fly, again, but by the time I do, I’m sure I won’t have to live through the embarrassment of having to ask for a seatbelt extender.

It’s nice to see my feet, again. There are fewer body parts blocking the view! (Well… a couple of them, but they’re deflating.)

To be totally honest, there are a few downsides; I have excess skin and I expect this to be even more of an issue as I continue to lose weight. When I lost a great deal of weight years ago, I had a great amount of excess skin; I expect to have even more. These does mess with your brain; the state of my excess skin really bothered me after 140 pounds of loss. This time, I’m a bit more mentally prepared to deal with it.

Just to be clear — that’s what I’d call a “quality issue”; it’s a problem, yes, but a good problem to have. I’d much rather lose the excess weight and free my body than worry about sagging excess skin; it’s a battle scar of sorts, and I will learn to live with it as my body continues to change.

This is also my preliminary halfway point in losing weight, so it’s a major goal to accomplish. I hope, at a minimum, to lose 50% of my total starting weight.

I’ll be half of who I used to be, but I’m saving the good parts.

As of this moment, I am 90.8 pounds down. Pretty amazing!

I recently read an article titled 10 Tips for Losing 100 Pounds or More on WebMD. In all, the article offered some decent, solid advice, and I’ve done many of the tips. Some time to look at an article on how to lose 100 pounds or more when I’m 90 pounds into it, right? Anyway… #8, Ditch The Dieting Mindset, resounded with me.

91 pounds of babies. Hey, I’m only .2 away from this…

This is something I’ve slowly been coming to terms with as I near a halfway point and continue to evolve in my weight loss. It’s especially true, now, with the holidays looming in the near future, and photos of delicious holiday treats parading through my social media accounts.

When it comes to weight loss, I tend to live in the future; I look forward to future weight loss goals. I have a drawer of clothes that are slightly too small, and I try them on every once in a while to see if they fit, yet. I think of what I’ll be able to accomplish at various points of loss, and I have thoughts of what life will be like when I’m able to do things I’m currently unable to do. As I travel in reverse through my smaller waves of clothes, I laughingly wonder if the seasons will line up; and right now, they don’t. I have cute clothes I bought for vacation in July of 2012; they fit now… in November. Such is life.

There will come a day when I’ve reached my weight loss goal, whatever I decide that will be, but I’ve come to accept that the process will never be over. There will not come a day when I wake up and regain the ability to eat without consequence. I could do that when I was 16; not now, in my 50’s. So the morning I wake up and I have achieved those goals is also the morning I start on another journey: maintaining what I’ve accomplished, perfecting the process, learning to live in my changed body.

While I know there are many people, especially heading into the holiday season, that tell themselves it’s time to make (yet another!) New Year’s Resolution to lose weight, and get on a diet (after the holidays, of course!) and immediately think of the day they will go off the diet — there is no such thing for me. Accepting that the only way to make my goals is to accept that I am not on a diet is sometimes hard to wrap my mind around, because to me, “diet” means “temporary”. I’ve had to break out of the mindset that weight loss is a process with a definite ending; it’s simply not true. It’s a lifetime commitment.

I’ve been on this journey for well over two years, now. Ain’t nuthin’ temporary about this!

Generally, I try to find the positive aspects of this process, and many may not consider this a positive at all, but I do. So many of us learn to live with restrictions; understanding that your body requires and reacts with nutrition in certain ways is simply learning to live with a restriction. It’s compromise, in the same way putting contact lenses in my eyes is a compromise taken on in order to see well. (If only losing weight were as easy!)

In the larger order of things, I would choose to live with this restriction and this understanding than others. Walking away from it means willingly choosing the high risk of diabetes, of heart disease, of further arthritic degeneration, and other complications of morbid obesity.

I choose this path — and willingly.

It’s been another great week for losses, with 88.2 pounds gone, and I’m happy to report that I’m closing in on a couple of goals that truly put this journey in a whole new light for me. Not that my weight loss efforts haven’t been legitimate, before, but the two goals that are soon within my grasp seem to shine a whole new light on this transition into the next stage of my life.

88 pound sea turtle

A little less than 5 more pounds gone, and I will have lost 25% of my total body weight, at 93 pounds. And when I’ve lost 11.8 more pounds, I will cross into that triple digit territory of having lost 100 pounds. Considering how close I am to both of these goals, I have to admit that every time I think about it, I am both excited and absolutely stunned.

Yep, those are big numbers. Not big enough, yet, to put my body weight in “normal” territory, but huge numbers, nonetheless.

It’s the accumulation of small changes that have made the difference. Changing a ton of things that needed to eventually happen, right off the bat, has driven me off of more diets than I care to admit. Starting out with smaller steps has led to making larger steps much easier.

Anyone who’s ever had a water leak can tell you that slow drip that doesn’t seem like anything to worry about ends up costing you on the water bill. Anyone who watched the Kansas City Royals win the World Series knows that they did it without a single home run over the fence; they won with singles, doubles, steals. The small things matter a lot; it’s not so important that you jump into doing everything at once, but that you start your effort with small changes.

Years ago, I was an avid walker; I walked roughly four miles a day. On every day’s walk, I’d pick up a piece of gravel along my path. When I arrived home, I dropped the rock I’d picked up into a hole that needed filling in my driveway. And while the differences on a day to day basis probably didn’t look like much at all, I eventually filled that hole.

I keep adding small things to my repertoire as I progress with my weight loss; as I become more capable. I find that everything I can successfully add or alter manages to change my life in slight but important ways. My latest challenge has been to intentionally use my cane less and less. I have it with me at all times, still; there are simply times when my knees are unsteady or I have a hill to tackle that requires some assistance. Falling is dangerous for me, so training my body to be steady on my feet is a slow but important process.

While I still feel I walk a little bit like a drunk when I don’t have my cane, I don’t feel like I must have it when I’m walking — most of the time. And honestly, the more weight I lose, the easier it will be for my body to maintain my balance; my gait is changing. So is my posture and the way I carry myself. Losing a large percentage of body weight necessarily means shifts in your center of gravity.

On a slightly different note, I went to the doctor’s office for a standard 6 month checkup earlier this week. I didn’t flinch when I stepped on the scales. I always fear blood draws, because I have deep veins that like to hide; believe me, I’ve gone through traumatic times when I’ve spent over an hour with attempted blood draws, to the point of feeling like I’d pass out. This time? The first attempt was successful.

And the best part? I didn’t cry during my appointment. I’m sure my doctor is happy about that, too; I’ve kidded him that he’s probably recorded “90% chance of blubbering” in my chart. I usually cry out of anger or frustration, and going back through my medical charts, they’ve seen my weight wildly fluctuate for years — this is certainly no new problem. So for me to stand there proudly, smiling during a doctor’s checkup and not shed a tear? Huge. My lab reports aren’t back, yet, but I’m not expecting anything but good news.

Make a small change; it makes a big difference in the long run.

81.6 pounds down! FABULOUS! It’s a nice place to be at, believe me.

Patrick the Wombat weighs over 80 pounds. You’re gorgeous, Patrick. Don’t let anyone tell you different!

While only a few people have come up to me and commented on my weight loss, more have asked publicly or privately how I’m losing the weight. This is my answer to that, and I’ll probably repost it to all who ask.

I usually give a vague answer, and there’s a reason for that, but I also know that vague answers lead to speculation. Heck, I’ve heard those speculations in regards to others who have had good weight loss success, and there’s no reason to think that the same things aren’t being said about me; I knew they were when I lost 140 pounds a decade ago.

So. A few clarifications.

Why I won’t answer: It’s simple. What works for me is likely not going to be the same thing that works for you — or for anyone else. One of the truly frustrating things about weight loss is finding that magic combination of enough of everything that it results in healthy weight loss, and the cruel fact is that it’s different for everyone. Not only that, but what’s working for me at 81 pounds down may well not work for me at 100 pounds down.

The human body is an amazing creation that is built to adapt to a staggering number of conditions, both internal and external. It’s also subject to an infinite combination of aspects that both help and hinder its ability to function at its best, and at any given moment, our bodies may have both active and latent hindrances to weight loss.

If I were to tell you exactly what I am doing to lose weight, nothing says it would work for your unique set of circumstances; unfortunately, especially if you’ve dealt with excess weight for the majority of your life, you have to find what works for you.

What works: Hard work. That’s what works, and that’s the bottom line. You have to put the effort in to get the results, and often, for the chronically overweight and obese, the amount of work required is much more strenuous than someone who has a better set of circumstances.

You have to be willing to completely throw away the idea of Unfair. It doesn’t matter, at all. Allowing yourself to wallow in the unfairness of being handed a set of physical circumstances that are difficult to manage solves nothing; it’s excuse making. The chances of anyone been a successful dieter while thinking “I can’t ever lose any weight, so I’m going to eat half a gallon of Cherry Garcia ice cream!” are slim. Get your mind in the right place.

The best advice I can give to anyone who’s willing to put in the work is to advise them to be a scientist on their own behalf. Rather than just jumping on a branded diet and expect it to work, do your research. Learn and understand the hows and whys of your body, as much as you can. Learn the consequences of your actions, your trigger foods, the times of day that are worst for you.

If you aren’t willing to put in the hard work necessary, you will fail.

While it may appear to most that I’m losing weight quickly so they want to know what I’m doing to lose it, I’m really not losing weight quickly. It’s been a long process of ebbs and flows, of periods of no loss and some regain, and times where I’ve been so frustrated that I’ve been tempted to give up. I’ve had to stick to it and change my tactics every time I’ve hit a roadblock. Right now, I’m doing well; in a couple of months, I may have to completely change what I’m doing. And I have to find the balance between being impatient and waiting too long to change something. You have to find your own way, just like success in anything else.

Dispelling Possible Rumors: I will say this much. I restrict carbs and calories, and I move more. As I continue to lose weight, I’ll have to increase my physical activity.

I am a middle-aged menopausal female with severe thyroid issues and other complications, including metabolic syndrome. I am under a doctor’s care and I do take prescription drugs for these issues. While medical intervention has helped fight my body’s defective mechanisms, the actual work involved in getting the weight off is mine; simply popping a pill will not be effective for the vast majority of us.

I have not had weight loss surgery. I have several friends who have successfully lost weight with surgical methods; they will be the first people to tell you that it isn’t an easy answer to a tough problem. It still requires commitment and lifestyle changes. While I applaud these women for their hard work and successes, I would not choose this particular solution for myself.

I do not believe in fad diets. While I do take a number of supplements meant to help correct my body’s chemical makeup, I do not use or endorse the use of shakes, bars, products that are meant for other uses but tout weight loss, or other such methods. Nearly all of the foods I eat are whole foods. I may on occasion have a meal bar with me if I’m in a situation where getting a meal on plan may be difficult. But I do not endorse any method that simply helps you lose weight and does not teach you how to change your lifestyle.

The fact is you can lose a ton of weight — and quickly — with many such methods, but if you don’t know how to maintain the loss, and you’ve learned nothing about changing your lifestyle, and your head isn’t in the right place, you might as well expect the weight to pile back on.

The Truth: I know most of this is not what people want to hear, but it’s the truth, in my experience. And in the long run, while I say it’s hard work, it does get easier as time goes on; if you find your rhythm, your support, and your incentives as you improve, changing your lifestyle isn’t as daunting a few months or a year into a process as it is when you first dive in.

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.