Going Down

I've been somewhat chronicling my weight loss efforts ever since my little incident early last year. When the incident happened, I weighed in at 217 lbs. (ab out 98 kg), and my cardiologist ordered me to lose at least 15 lbs. before my next visit with him. I lost 9 lbs., which I thought fantastic, and the doctor was pleased. But not as ecstatic as me. He urged me to do more to lose more, which I've tried my best to do. Struggling through the plateaus of non-weight loss, giving into temptation and trying that chocolate peanut butter cupcake from Bristol Farms, walking for 30 minutes during lunch break. Slowly, I've seen the results with pants almost sliding down my waist, tightening my belt to almost the last hole (and I have bought new clothes including belts), stepping on the scale to watch the numbers slowly dwindle.

Imagine my delight (shock, surprise) when I stepped upon the scale this morning: 197.8 lbs. (89/72 kg). And this after eating a plateful of fries last night. Holy. Cow. I looked at myself in the mirror and didn't notice any difference. But the scale couldn't be lying. Stepping on three more times proved that.

I'm still in shock.

Image from

http://www.flickr.com/photos/imager/ / CC BY-NC 2.0

.