That's the number on the scale as of yesterday. I thought that's what it was last time I weighed in but apparently not. There was a little fluctuation between weigh-ins, and the mind gets foggy.
But here's the thing between me and you: I'm scared.
I don't know. When I plugged in my weight here, and changed my numbers, my tummy did a little flippyflopping. I'm pretty sure that's not normal, pretty sure I'm a freak. Most people are happy to lose weight. Goodbye fat!!! see ya later!!!!! -- But not me. I mean, I'm happy. I like to see that my sacrifices and changes are working, but I'm kind of scared to change.
I've been fat for so long. Not that I'm worried about not being fat, 'cause as I've said before -- I'll always be a "big girl" by society's standards. My goal isn't 150, or 125, it's like, 175 and that's not "skinny" in most eyes.
It's a commitment, it's a change. I'm accustomed to stuffing my face wherever I go. I'm accustomed to being fat, having a fat buffer.
It's like losing your hair, even if you hate your hair.
I can't put a finger on it. I'm trying to. Give it time. Maybe it is the commitment. If I lose this, I need to continue to work on keeping it off. Like getting a new job. If I take this new job, I can't just quit whenever I want to. I have to continue to work.
In the end, I'm not complaining. I'm interested in the changes I see in my body. They aren't wildly different. Not yet. Little things, though. Like, riding in the car and being able to rest my forearms on my legs. Normally they'd fall on my big pillow tummy, obstructing them from falling to my lap. My shirts all feel loose in the shoulders. Basically I keep my spare tire midsection, and lose my narrow shoulders and breasts. Sexy, I know. My legs, when I'm standing I can cross them farther and easier than 20 pounds ago (which is where my body adjusted recently).
You know what, though? I can't believe I'm 5 pounds away from being the lowest I have in YEARS. It is exciting and frightening at the same time.