I really don't know how I can justify writing this because for as long as I can remember I have hated talking about weight and diets, and hated hearing about them even more. Seriously, I get twitchy. The focus on thin has drained the interesting out of many smart people (I want to say women), maybe that's why I react the way I do. Or maybe it just makes me feel like I need to go to the gym.
Yet here I go, even if the voice in my head is a screaming snore. The week after my daughter was born, I was down to 140 from my pregnancy high of 160. I figured the last 7 pounds to my starting weight would happen gradually enough. That was 28 months ago. I've been 140ish ever since. So at the end of every month, I'll post my weight and, hopefully, see some progress. I plan on doing nothing more ambitious than keeping my hands off my kids leftovers and sticking to only one or two glasses of wine a night (added bonus: I'd be telling the truth on patient intake forms!). I might be capable of something more drastic (although my history is spotty there) but I'm satisfied with the way I eat and workout. This isn't an overhaul. My health isn't on the line. 7 pounds won't make much of a difference in my appearance to anyone but me. I'm of average size now and 10 pounds either way, still average. But here's to goals, no matter how small or dull!
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