Kiss it.

I've been growing increasingly grumpy with my weight loss pause (and I've had quite a few of them thus far). In this health quest sentence, this particular pause is driving me batty. I'm reaching the point where I fully realize, I could be content forever at this stage. It's not, in my opinion, dramatically overweight. It's not "stand out in a crowd" obese. It's merely plump, and it's an easy place to stay. It's comfortable and it's the thinnest I've ever been as an adult, so it's exciting and novel.

But it's not best.

Thus, cue the grumpies. I am quite amazed with my transformation when I look at pictures, but when I look at myself in the mirror, I only see potential. I'd never seen potential before! I only saw fat. And perma-fat at that. I didn't believe I could lose weight, so I never really tried for it. Now that I see healthy living as a lifestyle and weight loss as a reality, status quo simply doesn't do it for me anymore. So, it seems each time I step on the scale with small changes, I get mad. I get angry, and I get motivated.

I've been tracking my calories, examining my diet and hunting down new and exciting ways to add more protein to my plate. Not to mention? This girl who hates to exercise is finally breaking a sweat. (Thank you to the Planet Fitness genius's who make it affordable AND provide endless channels of mindless tv to watch while I huff and puff)

Ya see, I've NEVER been the type that really wanted to be thin. I've always liked Kate Winslet with her winsome curves, and that darling Ricki Lake in her healthy hay day. Give me Queen Latifah over that skinny girl from the movie "crash" any day of the week. But I'm going to have to be the first to admit it...the closer I get to goal, the further the option gets of staying in the same place. My hunger for it grows and the thirst intensifies! I was under the impression that the closer my goal got, the more content I'd be. Farther from the truth that could not be!

So, I've lost about 100, and I've got about 60ish to go. And I know unwaveringly that the next 60 are going to be HARD. They are going to be way hard. They are going to make the first 100 look like a piece of cake. But I'm baring down, narrowing my eyes, growling at, and calling out those next 60. They're days are numbered and they're ticket is almost up. I feel like I'm telling those extra pounds to meet me outside in the back of the school yard at three o'clock for a fight. Yeah, it's dumb, but it's personal. (I also watched dirty harry yesterday so I'm feeling rather combative! than you clint.)

I want to thank those first 100 pounds though for giving me the motivation to tackle the next 60. As any good WLS patient knows...eventually the honeymoon period ends, and you realize this is your show now. It's yours to win or to lose. Gone are the days when a couple bites would fill me up beyond comfort. I can eat a "normal sized portion" just like anyone else. No more, but certainly up to that. And gone are the days when I could trust my pouch capacity to do the work for me.

Oh no. Now it's me and what I've learned. And I'm okay with that. I still have my tool, and it'll keep working for me as long as I keep working hard for it. You girls who are living this stage of WLS know what I mean. It gave us the boost we need to make the next thirty or forty years wonderful and filled with healthy and right choices that we made for ourselves (and not because our new pouches made them for us.)

So, 233. You can kiss it, cause I don't plan to see your ugly mug around much longer.