Push for Every Pound

For those who follow the old cliche that the "last 10 pounds are hardest..." well, they're right, and boo to that.

I'm starting to fondly remember the big number weigh-ins. The first couple months of Weight Watchers, there was little reason to fret when getting on the scale. I knew I was losing impressive amounts of weight on a weekly basis, and it was never a question of "did I lose any weight?", but rather "how many pounds are gone this week?"

That lasted, literally, about 45 pounds. I was putting up huge numbers every week. Four pounds, 7 pounds, 8 pounds... the chub seemed to be falling off of me-- which, when you think about it, is a bit of a disturbing visual. If it looked easy, quite frankly, it felt that way sometimes. It was mostly about diet back then, following a point system carefully, and exercising moderately. I didn't need to torture myself through 1,500-calorie workouts to ensure a good week.

Now, let's hit the "Live TV" button on the remote (Thank heavens for DVR). Yes, I have reached my initial 60-pound goal, and there have been no relapse weeks. Eighty pounds, however, is starting to feel elusive, like a tall building that is slowly coming closer, but distant enough that you know it's probably too far to walk.

The wedding is now less than three months away. That means about 12 weigh--ins, and 90 days or so to make good on my goal. It's Thursday today, but there won't be a weigh-in for me tonight as the result of a softball game. I'm confident that if I stepped on a scale (following my murderous last chance workout, of course), I would post another loss this week. However, if pushed to guess, I'd say the loss would be in the 0.something range, rather than a figure with a nice crooked number at the front of it.

According to the home jerk scale, I'm about 11 pounds away. That's close enough to consider the "last 10 pounds" cliche. And, if I still had the body fat percentage that I did when I started, those 11 pounds could easily be gone within a month.

Yet my body is changing-- for the better, as opposed to in those weird ways described in by awkward sexual education teachers. I daresay I'm showing some signs of muscle tone. I know longer look at myself and see a double-chin and bulging belly. I am even wearing some brands of shirts without any "extra" to the "large." These are wonderful signs of progress and I have many reasons to be proud of my progress.

But a promise is a promise, even if it is an arbitrary number. I want to hit that 80-pound mark. My workouts, which once were easy-going, are now brutal. On some days, I'm burning as much as 1600 calories in one session. My trainer actually told me I was a bit weak for my size, and that only lit the fire more, to the extent of more arm curls and push-ups than I've ever done before. Heck, a few weekends ago, Megan and I walked/ran (alright, mostly walked) a 4-mile stretch.


I'm eating less as well. Oh, I still pack a wallop during a meal (this is me, after all), but I am carefully counting points. To be more accurate, I'm carefully counting points between Monday and Thursday and allowing myself to indulge a bit too much on the weekends, but I am still relatively focused.


Yet every pound now feels like a major push. I know that if I am to reach my goal, those weekend indulgences will have to be reduced. I also know there are some major hurdles coming up, not too mention a professional change that I'll get into in a posting yet to be written. It's time for me to "hold, or cut bowstrings," as the old saying goes (and what it actually means, I haven't a clue).

One last push. It begins now... well, at least tomorrow, after trivia night at the bar.


You can't handle the STATS! (Yay, forgotten 90s movie reference!)

Days until wedding: 87. I can taste the cake already.
Weight Lost in Week 32: 0.6 lbs
Total weight loss after Week 32: 68 lbs
Progress toward 60 lb goal: 113.3333 percent
Progress toward 80-pound goal: 85 percent
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 32
Scouting report on my softball skills: fly ball pull hitter, weak glove, infield chatterer, prefers pitchers to belly-itchers
More challenging than necessary: Finding a left-handed baseball glove
Weight left to lose: 12 lbs
XXL shirts remaining in closet: handful
Those shirts now look: comically big