Lately, my body seems to be in a holding pattern. Even though I have lost 218 pounds with roughly 11 or 12 pounds to goal, I’m beginning to wonder if my body is trying to tell me it’s time to stop. Granted, I haven’t been eating perfectly or extremely strict, but even when I do I seem to fluctuate between the same few pounds.
My husband has said many times that I’ve hit goal (if I subtracted the weight of extra skin). On one hand, I believe it. My closet is full of size small and medium shirts, and size 4 or 6 pants. Never in my wildest imagination would I have thought I would be wearing these sizes when I started this journey at size 6X, and 30/32W pants. On the other hand, when I look in the mirror (especially without clothes on), all those thoughts go away. I see more I need to lose, more to get rid of.
The holidays will be an issue, of course. Not a huge issue – I do plan on eating a few things I don’t normally eat. And being this close to goal, I’m okay with that, knowing that’s not my normal way of eating (and I’ll go right back on plan afterwards).
But then again, maybe it’s time to stop. Everyone I tell I still have a little over 10 pounds to goal doesn’t believe me. They say I should stop and I’m good where I’m at. After being in “weight loss” mode for almost 2 years, it’s hard to switch gears. When I eat something off plan or more carbs than usual (and maintaining), I still feel overwhelmingly guilty. Like I’m letting myself down… like I’m letting down every person that knows me, every blog reader, every social media friend. I’m not gaining weight, but it still feels like I’m not good enough. It’s going to be a really hard transition.
I still feel like I want to hit my ultimate goal, just to say that I accomplished something. Finished the race. Completed what I said I was going to complete. Is that really so wrong?