One Year Later

On October 8, 2008, I joined Weight Watchers Online. Mostly because I'd been goaded to by my therapist, and also because I was tired of feeling left out by all my friends who were doing WW.

I didn't take a "before" shot. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I expected it to be a depressingly long time before I'd be able to see a difference. But this picture was taken about two months before I joined, and I can pretty much guarantee I didn't lose any weight between this picture and when I joined.


Six months later, I was closing in on 50 pounds lost, and even I could see the difference.

At the nine month mark, I was down nearly 75 pounds.

And now, it's been a full 52 weeks. I've lost a year, I've lost the therapist (she wasn't that much help anyway), and most of all, I've lost more than 85 pounds.

I can't see much difference between the last two pictures. Part of that is the difference between summer and winter clothes, and part of it is that there's only about 15 pounds of difference there -- I've slowed down a lot, the last few months. But just for reference, the summer clothes are a size L, and the fall clothes are a size M. I can't wear every M I try on, yet, but I'm getting there.



As of this morning, I weigh 186 (no change this week). Which means that over the last year, I've lost 87 pounds.

My two kids together weigh less than that. That's nearly eleven full jugs of milk (11 gallons, less one pint, to be precise). And I used to carry it around with me, all the time.

Not losing is irritating when I've been feeling deprived all week anyway. This crawling pace I've suddenly dropped to can be frustrating, even disheartening. At least it's crawling in the right direction. But I'll be frustrated another day. Today, it's time to pause and celebrate just how far I've come.

I'm not done yet -- I'm still technically obese, according to the BMI charts, in fact. But I think I'm allowed, just this once, to pause and pat myself on the back. And to be impressed that I can reach my own back again. And cross my legs. And squat down to pick up my son. And a dozen other things that, one year ago, I couldn't even consider.

Happy diet-versary, me. Here's to another year of being a loser.