The new dessert challenge

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Desserts are really making a comeback around here.

I’m a little scared to admit that — mostly because I fear putting it out into the universe. Since losing 35 pounds last year, I had to get serious about cutting down on my sugar intake . . . which was tough. Not as hard as I expected, honestly, but still no cake walk (pun intended). I mean, y’all know I love to bake — and we got so many cool kitchen items as wedding gifts. Pie plates and cookbooks and the Kitchen Aid and . . .

It’s so tempting.

But I knew — I know — I can’t be trusted around chocolate. I just can’t. I have my limits, friends, and know when I’m reaching them. Having cookies and cake and other tasty treats loitering in the kitchen is a recipe (! okay, I’ll stop) for disaster. Even though I’m still going hard with Weight Watchers, I’m in maintenance mode now. Having hit my goal weight in January, the idea now is to keep on keepin’ on.

And I don’t want to slip back into my little bad habits.

Long term, I know I won’t go back to the way things were before. I’ve come too far and fought way too hard to change my entire lifestyle to start sabotaging myself with snack-size Snickers bars, but . . . well, the reality is that having avoided temptation for so long, sweets are getting extra tempting. I miss them. My stomach misses them. We remember the cool crunch, the chocolate tang, the caramel goodness . . .

Sigh.

But I’m learning to cope and am still adapting. In terms of Weight Watchers, I’m allowing myself some extra points each day for a Lindt Lindor truffle (2 points!) or two Hershey’s Kisses (1 point!). From the beginning, my motto was not to “deprive” myself of anything; going on a true “diet” — where you eliminate a certain food or food group — can create hunger pangs that go beyond simply eating fewer calories, I think. For me, anyway.

The second you tell me I can’t have it, I want it desperately. It’s a universal law or something.

Without getting on my sparkly spokesperson soapbox, Weight Watchers worked for me because I learned to make smarter choices, control my portions and treat myself to indulgences — not enjoy them nightly. Then they’re not indulgences. To say I can never have X, Y or Z again? Nope. Not my bag.

In that vein, I’m trying to be gentler with myself about the sweets. For Valentine’s Day, I requested molten chocolate lava cakes for dessert — and my sweet husband obliged. He even improvised by making dulce de leche as a topping, and . . . well, it was amazing.

I didn’t feel guilty after, exactly, because I planned ahead and gave myself the wiggle room to accommodate that sugary deliciousness that night. But that experience did get me thinking about trigger foods, and how the key is to indulge occasionally without going overboard.

It’s a work in progress — like me.

But we’ll get there . . . one alluring spoonful at a time.


In support of the resolutioners

Walking into my local Weight Watchers to weigh in yesterday, I felt a ripple in the Force.

Place was packed.

I’m usually the only soul there, running in on her lunch break with hair askew. The whole process clocks roughly five minutes. A few seconds to shed my shoes and coat; a minute to chat with the kind lady assisting me on the scale; another minute or two to talk about my loss or gain, including tips on tweaking my routines.

Then I’m back in my car, back to the office. Little muss. No fuss.

But now? Well, the New Year’s get-healthy resolutioners have arrived. In droves. Three ladies were signing up for WW as I entered, all bent over paperwork with curious expressions. Another woman was seated with her iPhone, trying to navigate the app, and I felt a pang remembering my own anxiety when my husband and I joined last year. She was asking about the tracker, about how points work. It took all my willpower not to start schooling her.

I can be a know-it-all. It’s one of my least pleasant traits, honestly . . . but at least I have the good sense to be one only in my mind.

And anyway, I’m not a jerk. I was in their shoes not so very long ago. Visiting Spencer’s family last January, we were freshly engaged and eying our future — and after a conversation about health, we had one of several talks about weight. I remember pulling up the Weight Watchers site in his parents’ study, reading over the general information with a knot in my stomach.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said.

I was scared. Scared of failure.

But I went. And I got serious. Something finally clicked for me, and it’s been a life-changing journey since.

My first step after enrolling in WW last year? Going to the grocery store. I remember plunking bananas on my desk right off the bat, taking advantage of the program’s allowance to eat as many fresh veggies and fruits as you like (zero points!).

They seemed foreign, those bananas. I didn’t usually have fresh anything hanging around. I couldn’t picture eating fruit every day, because . . . well, just because. Because I never had. Because I was used to my poor habits, used to feeling junky, used to the convenience of a granola bar or cookie instead of proper fuel.

But people can change.


Fruit


I’ve overheard folks complaining about all the New Year’s resolutioners clogging up their gyms come January 1, snagging the best machines and crowding out the regulars. Since I hate sweating and am actually rather fond of loafing around, I haven’t stepped foot in a gym in years. But I felt that same unease at Weight Watchers, where my usual five-minute stop turned into a long escapade.

But it’s okay.

We all start somewhere. Maybe World Fitness and Weight Watchers will empty out by March, haunted again by only the diehards, but maybe some of those new guys will become regulars themselves. Though we’re all on personal paths, I’m rather fond of mankind as a whole . . . and I’d like to help, not hinder. Be friendly. Be kind.

Getting anywhere starts with that single step, you know?

So I’m trying to be patient. I’ll allot more time. I’m notoriously aggravated when it comes to waiting, honestly, but I focused on chatting with the ladies in line ahead of me. I shared favorite snack tips, asked about their goals. I tried to project encouragement — something we all could use a bigger serving of each day.

That and fresh fruit, of course.


When I got gutsy — and finally lost that weight

I wasn’t sure I could do it.

And I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

I’d grown used to being the curvy girl — the one with the “pretty face.” Even as my dress size climbed through my teens and twenties, I refused to give in to self-doubt. I didn’t want to focus on my weight — even though, in reality, I already was.

When I needed larger jeans, I bought them.

When I wanted to have a second cupcake, I did.


Christmas cupcake


I’d gotten listless, cranky, easily tired or sick. But I wasn’t a woman accustomed to depriving herself or scaling back. I was afraid to address the issue of my climbing weight because I “didn’t want to obsess about it,” as I told my fiancé. The idea of a weight loss program where I’d have to track points — and be held accountable for everything that passed through my lips — intimidated the heck out of me. I played it off as an annoyance, but the truth?

The truth was that I was scared.

The idea of joining Weight Watchers* had entered my mind years before, mostly as a method of control, but I shunned it because I was afraid my “last-ditch effort” to get healthy with the program wouldn’t work . . . and where would I be then?

I’d tried the gym, sweating miserably on a treadmill and bored out of my skull. I’d briefly embraced Zumba classes, trekking out on weeknights to dance with coworkers until an injury sidelined a friend . . . and I used her absence as an excuse to bail.

I went through a phase where I upped my veggie intake, tried to scale back on eating out, stepped away from my favorite hobby — baking — so we wouldn’t have so many goodies hanging around.

Nothing worked. After a while, I always slipped back into my old routines.

I just didn’t have the right tools.

Though I’m probably going to come across as a Weight Watchers disciple, I really feel passionate about the program — because it changed my life. WW became my new home-away-from-home in mid-January 2013, the day after a minor car crash rocked my world. No one was hurt, thankfully, but it was my first real accident — and it shook me to my core. Plagued by sudden “what ifs?” and anxiety, I suddenly knew it was time to get serious . . . about my life.

I’d been engaged for less than a month, heavier than I’d ever been, and suddenly dealing with two weddings to plan — mine and my sister’s. As I talked with insurance companies about my car accident and tried not to imagine what would have happened if the truck that hit me had been going just a little faster on a dark night, I began to process my impending move from my parents’ house while my fiancé and I simultaneously discussed guest lists and wedding venues.

I was overwhelmed. When Spencer started talking about weight loss, I felt emotionally exhausted — and not ready to even try. I almost let those little fires, those anxieties, keep me from ever stepping foot into Weight Watchers. But when my fiancé suggested going to a meeting “just to try it out,” something told me to go.

It took guts for me to walk into that first meeting — to finally admit I wanted to change. I was so afraid of losing confidence, of “admitting defeat” about my physical self, that I resisted the idea of needing to get healthy.

But I’d seen family members and friends felled by illness. I had my own health scare a month earlier — at a time when I should have been celebrating my engagement. At 28, I knew my body wasn’t going to simply “bounce back” from poor decisions.

It was time.

To everyone’s shock — especially my own — I embraced Weight Watchers with a vigor typically reserved for religion. From the moment I was handed the tools to make better decisions about my food and my life, I gained a sense of confidence. Instead of deprived, I felt empowered.

Tracking my food came naturally, lending a sense of control to an area of my life that had felt haphazard for so long. I rediscovered my love for fruit and vegetables, especially apples, and learned new ways to prepare them. I started (healthy) snacking.


Apple


I’d been worried I’d become “obsessed” with what I was eating, tracking everything to a T . . . and I did.

But it’s been awesome.

Where once I’d eat a sleeve of cookies and feel guilty all night, I learned to have two, track them and move on with my day. I hadn’t realized all the negative self-talk I’d been foisting upon myself, making less-healthy decisions and then berating myself for them.

Portion control became my best friend. I educated myself on smarter choices, on the importance of fresh fruit and vegetables, on all the little choices I thought were good for me that were actually a form of self-sabotage. In short, I’d been eating way too much — and out of emotion. Food was love, and food was comfort. I ate until I felt full to bursting because . . . that was just what I did.

I had to retrain myself. Retrain my body, retrain my brain.

It hasn’t been easy. It took patience, dedication, discipline. Food had been my drug—my crutch—for so long, and there were times it took a Herculean effort (and literally sitting on my hands) to resist reaching for the bread basket.

But I kept with it, never missing a Wednesday weigh-in, because I knew I was working toward the best possible goal: getting healthy for myself, my family and my soon-to-be husband.

When I took a step back (and I did), I learned to be gentle with myself. To be patient.

When I gained some weeks, I chose to remember I was in this for a lifetime — and that rises and falls were inevitable.

That’s the beauty of Weight Watchers — and why it worked for me: I’m not on a diet. I didn’t start the program with a stopping point in mind, figuring at some mystical point I’d be “done.” Being healthy means you’re never “done” . . . but I didn’t realize that the tiny changes I was making were adding up to a complete reboot of my relationship with food.

Some folks assumed I was losing weight for the wedding, a natural thought in our “Say Yes to the Dress” culture. It was easier to let them think I was another image-conscious bride than to explain the truth: that my engagement was merely the wake-up call I needed to realize the rest of my life was waiting, and I didn’t need to bring all those extra pounds into it. It was about so much more than a white gown.


Hands and dress


I dropped 4 lbs. in the first month, amazed to see the number on the scale sliding down. I’d grown so used to cringing at the doctor’s office, the only time I ever weighed myself, that wanting to peer at those digits was a new feeling.

I tried on and bought a wedding dress in March, already 10 pounds lighter than when I’d started — but I’d have to leave it for alterations in August after losing three dress sizes.

On Dec. 11, almost exactly 11 months since I started the program, I officially hit my goal weight: a number that placed me below the overweight zone for the first time in my adult life. I’ve lost 34 lbs. since Jan. 16, which makes my fingers tingle as I type.

But that’s really just a number.


Weight loss grid

View More: http://birdsofafeatherphotos.pass.us/megan-and-spencer-wedding


What have I really lost? My guilt. My awkwardness. My fear of having my photo taken and pasted on Facebook for all the world to see, wondering how much old friends and acquaintances are judging my appearance. Never one obsessed with looks, it pains me to admit how much I worried about what others thought of my body . . . but I did.

And what did I gain? Confidence. Swagger. Comfort. Peace. A sense of control that was so lacking in my everyday life—the idea that I’m not ruled by food, though I can still enjoy it (and do). If anything, I enjoy food more now — because I’m making better choices, ones that make me happy. Because I don’t eat pumpkin pie twice a week, my rare indulgence tastes sweeter than the sweetest thing in the world.

I feared weight loss would be all about deprivation. That I’d have to starve myself, get angry with myself, berate myself. That I’d feel so much worse before I’d feel better.

But I feel awesome. I’ve felt motivated and empowered from the beginning. For finally doing something instead of just talking, talking, and for committing to my health.

For committing to myself.

Standing here at the “finish line,” I know my journey is really just beginning — and I feel far more than 34 lbs. lighter. A weight has been lifted from my shoulders, literally and metaphorically, and if I’d known I could feel this good? Well, I would have done this years ago.

It started with a single step: acknowledging that I wanted to change. And with the encouragement and support of my husband, family and friends, I just kept taking tiny steps toward one happy Megan.

But it was a solitary journey, too: one I began for myself.

And I am proud. Very proud.

If you’re thinking about tackling a challenge and getting gutsy in 2014, remember that the time is now. Every cliché you’ve ever heard about committing to yourself and being worth it is absolutely true. You are worth it, and you can do it. It’s just a matter of finding what works for you.

Be your own biggest fan . . .

. . . and if you’re looking for a sign, as they say?


This is it


Getting gutsy is all about stepping outside your comfort zone to reach your goals. This is my entry in Jessica Lawlor’s #GetGutsy Essay Contest.
To get involved and share your own gutsy story,
check out this post for contest details.


*This post was not sponsored by Weight Watchers — I’m just very passionate about the program. All opinions are my own. Though I was not asked to nor compensated for sharing my thoughts, clicking on a Weight Watchers link and signing up for the program may grant me a referral credit.


The last 2 pounds

As of Wednesday, I’m officially 2.2 pounds from my goal weight.

Though I’ve barely budged in months, I’ve tried not to get discouraged . . . because everyone said this would happen.

weight lossAfter going like gangbusters for months, completely revamping my diet and getting serious about every. little. morsel. passing through my lips, I took off more than 30 pounds in nine months. My progress was crazy. I felt so different, so much better . . . and just really, really proud.

Because I took off so much so quickly, I figured I’d be at my goal weight by now. I took it for granted. It’s been a little frustrating to see the scale barely move, but I’ve actually lost 3.5 pounds since writing this post near my birthday.

I’m so close to being “done” . . . but I really know I’m just beginning.

When I started Weight Watchers (affiliate link) in January, the hardest part was accepting the changes I was making weren’t temporary — the goal is, of course, to get healthy for a lifetime. I was emotional in those early days, whittling down my portions to something the program would deem appropriate, thinking I simply could not survive on anything less than a bowl of pasta a day.

I’m serious.

I could, of course. And I have. I won’t say I don’t have my bad days — my crave everything, bring me lots of chocolate and don’t ask questions days — but they are few and far between. The best part of Weight Watchers has been gaining the knowledge that you can eat whatever you like . . . you just have to hold yourself accountable.

WW has taught me how to do that. Not to deprive myself or starve myself, send myself on endless guilt trips or get hooked on some kind of diet food . . . but to really live my life, and well. I still eat cupcakes; I just count them into my daily Points allowance. I’m so indoctrinated on Points values and high-protein foods and eating well that I really don’t even think about what I’m doing anymore — I just do it. I’m on WW autopilot, and that’s a beautiful thing.

But I haven’t gotten here alone. From the beginning, my fiance — newly-minted at the time! — has been endlessly comforting and supportive of my changes. I didn’t realize I’d slipped into a dark place until I saw the splinter of light my new lifestyle afforded me — and though I would stress Spencer certainly never pushed me into making changes, he has always encouraged me. Because he wants me to be happy.

In fact, Spence and I joined WW together — and have stuck with it together. Though never overweight, he was interested in adopting healthier eating habits and, of course, keeping all the bad stuff out of arm’s reach for me. We learned the ins and outs of eating well together, limiting our portions and getting endlessly creative at mealtimes, and I’m so thankful for his love and dedication to helping me be more.

That’s why he’s going to make an excellent husband . . . in less than four weeks!

All this is to say, if you’re thinking about making a change — with your weight, diet, exercise routines, whatever — well, the “buddy system” is far from baloney. Having someone really in the trenches with me, guiding me and offering advice made a world of difference.

And if you don’t have that buddy to make the first change or visit to Weight Watchers with you, have no fear — because you’ll make new friends in meetings. I guarantee it. Though it’s been months since I met up with our Wednesday night crew (shame on me!), we met so many awesome people of all ages and walks of life by sitting ourselves down with a leader once a week for inspiration and encouragement. I miss that group.

I joined Weight Watchers for Spencer, wanting to know we’d have as many healthy years together as I could grant us. Wanting to be happy — and not self-conscious — during our engagement. But I’ve stayed with it for me.

One of my biggest fears is the idea of being felled prematurely by an illness or disease I might have been able to prevent if I’d only lived a little cleaner, so I drink my water, eat my vegetables, indulge in the occasional treat and really savor it — and I don’t worry so much anymore. Losing weight has freed up so much of my mental space and given me so much energy . . . though both have been consumed by wedding planning of late.

But no matter.

Even if the last 2 pounds linger, if they refuse and refuse to budge . . . well, I’ve come so far that I could never go back.

I’m in the home stretch, and it will continue to be a beautiful ride.


Almost to goal: weight loss update

Weight loss


Well, it’s August 1 — a brand-new month! — and my weight loss end is nigh, friends. Really this time. With your kind support and encouragement in June, I decided to push myself past my original goal to lose 25 pounds and aim to get back in the “healthy” BMI range for my height.

As of Wednesday, I’ve shed 28.6 pounds since January and am just 5 pounds from my goal weight with Weight Watchers. After seven months of completely revamping my diet and eating habits, I’m thick in the middle of wondering “what’s next.” As I edge closer to going on maintenance, meaning I’ll be eating more to sustain my weight rather than actively keeping losing, I’m nervous — but excited, too. Because I did it! Well, almost. But I’m going to do it!

How am I feeling? Well, I’m feeling awesome. I had no concept of how heavy I felt until I became . . . lighter. Running errands last week, Spencer detoured to the fitness section of Walmart and handed me a 30-lb. weight. I could barely hold it, marveling that I could possibly have had all of that on my frame. For the first time in my 5-foot-two-inch life, I actually feel petite.


Almost 30 pounds


On a whim Wednesday, I ran into a department store for new pants. Little I own fits these days. I realized all the jeans I have are size 12 or 14, and I’m now . . . an 8. EIGHT. I wasn’t an 8 when I was walking six miles a day in college. I wasn’t an 8 when graduating from high school. I have never, ever worn a single-digit size, and I’m going to be honest: I’m REALLY EXCITED ABOUT IT.

All-caps kind of excited about it.

But it’s not about the size. Truly. I feel healthy, energetic, bold, confident. I feel better now, at 28, than I did at 22 (or even 18). Tons of fresh fruits and vegetables have become a way of life. I’m less careful about what I’m eating than how much I’m eating, though I’ve cut back or cut out some foods from my diet (like bread and pasta. Sigh). While I’ve always enjoyed seafood, fish are my new BFFs.

Desserts have been hard, but I can honestly tell you I’ve rarely felt deprived. All things in moderation, right? I still enjoy the occasional sweet, but I’m in control of foods and desserts . . . not controlled by them. Sounds simple, maybe, but I’ve gone from a woman with no self-control to someone who takes her health very seriously. I religiously keep track of what I’m eating (and how much), and I hold myself accountable. I’ve never missed a week of weighing in with Weight Watchers, and I don’t intend to.

What’s the greatest thing I’ve gained through loss? Freedom. I spent years worrying about my weight — gaining and feeling uncomfortable, having bridesmaid’s dresses let out, feeling awkward in unflattering photos (or refusing to be in them at all). After taking the first step to change that, I immediately felt relief — and have been released from so much anxiety and self-consciousness by making a commitment to myself. You hear these platitudes — you know, you’re worth it! — but believe me when I say . . . you are.

I was. I am.

Here’s to the last 5 pounds.


End goal

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Post Weight Watchers treat (frozen yogurt!)


My weight loss goal is in sight.

And that scares me a little.

I’ve started talking with the Weight Watchers crew about my end goal: where I really see myself. How much more do I want to lose? How am I going to know when to stop?

With 23.2 pounds lost and just 1.2 until I hit my personal goal, I have so many conflicting emotions about the next step. At this point, I really believe I’ve changed my eating habits — smaller portions; lots of fresh fruit and vegetables; way fewer sweets — and know I can’t go back to the way things used to be. Weight Watchers has retrained my brain, y’all; I can’t un-know what I’ve learned about eating better.

And, more importantly, feeling better. I didn’t realize how low I’d gotten — physically and emotionally — until I started really examining what I was doing. Since joining the program, my energy levels and confidence have soared. Instead of dreading photos, clothes shopping and running into acquaintances, I feel happy and buoyant and light. By modifying my habits and getting serious about what (and how much) I’m consuming, I’ve changed.

But how do I stop?

After losing 10 percent of my weight, I chose a new personal goal: I wanted to slim down to 150 lbs. At only 5’2″, that number was still 9 pounds more than the “high” end of the healthy BMI weight range for my height — so I’m still considered overweight. (Boo.)

All along, though, I’ve thought the “magic” number for my height — 141 pounds, depending on whom you consult — seemed unrealistic. I haven’t been that slim since high school, and I couldn’t picture myself more than 30 pounds lighter. Afraid of setting myself up for failure, I ignored that number. I couldn’t do 141, I reasoned, but maybe I could do 150. No problem.

Now at 151.2, I’m within sight of that goal. I can feel it. But now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t, for the first time in my post-college life, try to get back within that “healthy” range. It would feel great to be there, emotionally and physically, but I worry 141 is not a number I can sustain — not in the long term. Maybe I could drop another 10 pounds, but should I?

I don’t know.

I already have my lovely wedding dress that is currently two sizes too big. At least half of my work wardrobe is unwearable, and I’m not exactly in a financial position to buy all new clothes. Cry me a river, I know, but it is frustrating in its own way. I’m back to not having anything to wear not because my clothes are too tight, but because they’re too loose.

A better problem to have, yes — especially for health reasons. But frustrating.

Losing another 10 pounds would mean I’ve officially dropped three dress sizes, and absolutely nothing I own — or like — will fit. I feel like I woke up one day to discover all my favorite clothes had become unwearable . . . including my favorite jeans. Because I’m in such a flux right now, I have no idea what size pants to even buy. I’m left wearing and washing the same few pairs I bought on clearance at Kohl’s for the summer, though I know I’ll have to break down and invest in new duds soon.

It’s weird.

Weight is . . . well, a sensitive subject. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. And I’m not sure there’s an easy solution to this — just my general mental wandering over whether or not it’s time to quit. I’ll admit that it’s addictive, seeing that scale move . . . and I just hope I won’t lose momentum once I’m not actively dropping the pounds anymore.

I’ll just have to recommit, this time with renewed purpose: staying healthy. Maintaining.

Both leading up to the wedding and far, far beyond.


Ten percent weight loss

weight loss

Who knew losing 10 percent of something could feel so good?

Losing 10 percent of your paycheck? No.

But losing 10 percent of your weight? Something to be celebrated. And after 17 weeks, I hit that milestone Wednesday.

In January, the idea of losing 17 lbs. was daunting. Though I didn’t doubt my commitment to getting healthy, I had a hard time actually visualizing the weight coming off. The scale going down. My energy increasing. It was all too abstract . . . in the beginning, at least. But then I did start slimming down and eating better. Losing dress sizes. Investing in new clothes. Changing my thinking.

In the last month, I’d hovered around the same weight — even gaining for the first time since starting — and was starting to think I’d hit a plateau. Though I wasn’t exactly goofing around with my eating, I have been slooooowly introducing little treats back into my diet. That’s not a problem because, you know, this is real life. If I want to eat a baby Snickers bar, that’s going to happen. No, the real problem was feeling myself backsliding into a “just a little taste” mentality.

Just a little slice of cake.
Just a little bowl of ice cream.
Just a few M&Ms.
Just a handful of chips.

And I would eat them. And I would enjoy them. And life would go on as usual because this isn’t some sort of war against snack foods, you know? But all of those “little tastes” add up — big time. And if I dance around enjoying “just a little” of this or that, I waste the calories I could have used to eat, say, a chicken breast.

Chicken keeps fills you up better than potato chips, y’all. An indisputable fact.

So I reigned myself in. Got myself back in a healthy mentality. Returned to politely demurring in the face of a mountain of sweets and reminded myself that an occasional indulgence is A-OK, but I can’t slip back into a “eat whatever you want when you want it” mindset.

After 17 weeks of Weight Watchers, I’ve officially lost 18.4 lbs. and hit that 10 percent weight loss goal! I remember sitting in our first January meeting, right after I’d been handed my personal goals, and wondering what in the world I would look like with 17 lbs. shed from my short frame. And now I know. And though I’m still going strong, just having hit that magic number feels awesome.

Sorry if I talk about weight loss too much. I swear I’m not becoming That Girl who goes on and on about her eating habits (er, am I?), but this was too exciting not to share.

I’m holding my 10 percent keychain in the second shot, complete with my 16-week charm for sticking with it for four consecutive months. It’s a tangible representation of what makes me feel so good: not the weight loss persay (though losing two dress sizes is fantastic), but the joy I feel at having kept a commitment to myself.

Even when it was challenging.
Even when I didn’t feel like it.
Even when it made me angry.

I did it. And I’m doing it. And I’ll keep doing it.

My personal pride? The real icing on the (low-fat) cake.