In case you haven’t noticed, that little ticker over there, the one that tracks the pounds I’ve lost, has been moving steadily down for the past few weeks. After, what, 9 freaking months stuck in the 320’s, I’m officially and finally back down to 313–67lbs down, what I weighed on my birthday in September, my lowest weight since starting this journey.
I don’t know what’s changed, really. Maybe it’s the lower, healthier-carb, gluten-limiting diet I’ve been trying my damnedest to stick to, or the fact that I’ve been working out consistently, or the fact that I’ve really been working through my share of emotional baggage. Divulging my starting weight, struggling to find balance across all aspects of life, reminding myself of the why’s and what’s of what I’m doing, remembering each day that I’m worth it…you know, little things like that 🙂
It may also be due to the fact that I’ve been working myself of the Metformin I was taking for my PCOS. I’ve been getting horrendous hives all over my body and couldn’t take it anymore. That, coupled with the fact that I wasn’t noticing any difference in my weight and my energy levels plummeted, convinced me that I was better off without it. I’ve lost 60-some pounds without that medication. I can lose more.
I’m sure it’s some combination of all these things, but the important point here is that I’m once again making real, before-my-eyes-progress. And while I know progress lies beyond the scale, when you don’t see that number budge for months on end, it becomes quite the de-motivator.
But now? Just try and stop me, baby!