Today is another weigh-in Friday. My official weight this morning is 303 lbs. This means I am 49% of the way to my goal weight, and have lost 81 lbs. on my program, and 122 lbs. from my highest weight. I’ve been on the program for 11 weeks, so I have averaged 7.36 lbs. lost per week. At this rate I can expect to be at goal weight in the next four months—though it will likely slow more as I get lower. After that, the rest of the time in my year-long journey will be spent transitioning and learning to maintain my weight, while building up my activities to once again enjoy many of the things I loved when younger.
Today is Independence Day, and I have new reasons to celebrate. I thought for this day, I would share some of the things I am celebrating this year as a result of losing so much weight.
While looking at the scale is fun and interesting—and occasionally stressful—I have to say this is not the best part of losing weight. The best part of losing weight is really hard to put my finger on. The benefits are such that it is hard to measure them to see which one is the single best. So many things about losing weight make me happy that I don’t think I can look at one and say that is the best part, with the possible exception of two things. One is my wife’s smile when she sees how much I’ve lost. She has been my greatest cheerleader in this. Whenever she hears a lower weight she cheers. When I make a choice to stay on program she commends me. When anyone else encourages me to do something that would break my program or knock me out of fat-burn she gets very protective. Second (though only in order reported but not in the level of joy given) is the hugs of my daughters. When my daughters hug me and comment on how far their arms go around me it lifts my spirits. One of my daughters has mentioned several times just how thin my arms are getting. Don’t hear that wrong. I didn’t say skinny. There has never been anything skinny about me. However, I have lost weight all over, especially my arms, legs and face. My abdomen is taking a bit longer, but this is normal.
There are other joys that I get to experience now. When I enter an office waiting room, I don’t have to consider the strength of the chairs. I have destroyed many chairs in my life. This last week I was at the local University. The University has a huge flight of stairs that I used to avoid. Now I take the stairs, easily. I no longer dread shopping for clothing—at least no more than the average guy. I look forward to seeing my new pants size, or shirt size. I love that I had to have my watch resized to fit my arm. It feels good to sit in my wife’s car and not have my belly almost touching the steering wheel. The car is a small Hyundai, and now I can sit in the seat and move my legs side to side. I like the fact that I can sit in a chair to read and actually cross my legs and rest the book on my legs rather than on my belly. I can do this with my computer too, making it a laptop computer rather than a belly-top computer.
Next month I have a meeting in Arlington, and rather than drive I chose to fly. I love flying, always have, but have hated planes being as heavy as I was. It had gotten to the point that I had to force my hips down into the seat and ask for a seat-belt extension. No more! I can’t wait for this flight. One other thing about flying: when at my heaviest, I had to make sure to use the bathroom before getting on the plane. If I had managed to get in the plane’s facilities, they would have needed a tub of butter to get me out.
Another benefit is only experienced when going out to dinner. For years when we went out I had to ask for a table, because I didn’t fit in booths. It’s hard to eat when the booth table is cutting you in half and the only thing that can bend is your neck. Well, booths are more private and encourage better and more intimate conversation. Now, when entering a restaurant we can sit in a booth and I have yet to find one that doesn’t fit. For those who have never had a weight problem you have no idea how great this one is. Imagine this scenario: a morbidly obese man enters a restaurant with his little tiny wife (as mine is). They sit at a table and order their food. It is natural for those around to judge that person the entire time he is eating. Yes, I’m sure most of you are mature enough not to do this; but one, it does happen; and two, that man is sure it is happening even if it is only in his imagination. This makes it very difficult to enjoy what should have been a nice night out with a loved one.
This brings up another benefit to celebrate this year. The psychological impact of being greatly overweight is immeasurable. You feel everyone is judging you. You feel every eye on you at times. You know when you sit in a chair it might break, making a scene. You have to sit where you fit, making it apparent how large you are. In a waiting room, you know it will take you extra effort to remove your bulk from the chair. You make a joke of it, to cover, but the eyes haunt you deep down inside. On a flight you have to request a belt extender while publicly squeezing yourself into a seat. You also audibly hear the release of breath in relief when people on the flight realize you are not going to be sitting next to them. It gets frustrating when looking for clothes and no store seems to have your size. When the only thing in a store that fits is socks, it does something to you inside. When you meet a new person, you notice their eyes scanning your belly and you know you have just been sized up—in more ways than one. When you go to a job interview, if you don’t get the job you can never be sure if it was your skills, your resume, or your bulk that prevented it. When you are shopping for certain things, you find yourself looking for something others never look at—the tag showing the weight limit, which more often than not means you can’t buy it. It can also be very depressing when you go to the office of the doctor who is supposed to help you lose weight and you discover none of his scales go high enough to weigh you.
There is one other thing that truly hurts when being as large as I was: when my wife would cut my toenails. If this had been due to a bad back or an injury it would have been different, but doing it because I couldn’t easily reach over my belly was shameful. She always did it with a smile, but I knew it was just not right and was a result of my own choices.
Now, many may see this post as being very depressing. Actually it is a celebration because by making healthier choices these no longer describe me. I am free from them. While I still have a ways to go—a long way to go—I am moving forward.
Celebrate your Independence Day to day. If you are struggling with your weight, it is time to declare your own Independence and do something about it.