It’s been 3 years since I or my fellow zombie bait posted here, and somehow the zombie apocalypse has not yet occurred. We all know what that means… it’s sure to happen any day.
A lot has happened to me in that 3 years. I’ve gotten divorced (almost, give me 6 more weeks); gotten remarried (almost – 102 days & counting); and stopped and started dieting and exercise approximately 8,000,000 times. About 18 months ago, I got serious and started attending Weight Watchers religiously. Over 9 months, I successfully lost 60 lbs. In the spirit of total transparency, I was at my highest weight ever: 230 lbs. I brought it down to 170, with a final goal of 140. I was diligent and strict as hell about recording every molecule of food that entered my mouth.
But something went wrong. During that time, I became single and started dating again. It was hard to diet on dates. No one wants to pull out the iPhone and start looking up point values when you’re trying to look cute and perky. Also, I found that I wasn’t in as much of a hurry to throw off that last 30 lbs. I already felt loads better about myself, and men seemed to find me attractive enough as I was. So I hit a plateau. In the last 9 months, I’ve managed to maintain most of that 60 lb. loss, but I couldn’t – just couldn’t – seem to move any further. For a while I was satisfied with maintenance. And then…
I met the love of my life. The man who is my partner and my rock in every aspect of my life. He loves me just as I am, and makes me feel attractive and sexy as hell, but he also encourages my efforts to get healthier. All of a sudden, I want to start over. For me, not for him; but because of him I am motivated to actually get off my ass and lose those last 30 lbs. If I happen to gain Michelle Obama’s arms in the process, so be it.