Saturday, August 31, 2013
It seems I met my first goal this morning (I say "seems" because my scale decided to go crazy this morning, but would mostly work for hubby. When he was in the room, I could get the same weight to show up three times in a row -- and he was sure his was right -- so I'm counting it). And instead of rejoicing, I'm feeling . . . weighed down.
This is the weight I was at throughout my short 11-week pregnancy. It was the weight at which I hoped for my little girl. This is the weight of much joy and much despair. And I'm feeling that today.
While I will continue to work to get more pounds off, I'm struck with how weightloss from here would have seemed a failure a few months ago. With how loss was a sign that my morning sickness was causing me to eat too little. I fought hard then to maintain at 186. And now, there is no need.
I have a few weeks before I'm in my fertile window and we'll be really trying again. Still more pounds to lose . . .