Numbers

35. That's how many pounds I needed to lose to go down two pant sizes.

My aunt gave me a couple of cookbooks recently. One of them was all about cooking yourself thin. There were several 'success' stories. These stories mentioned women losing all of 6 pounds and going down two sizes. What? Seriously? Where are these people shopping if the clothing sizes are separated by all of six freaking pounds?

Okay, so I know I shouldn't be complaining. I mean, I'm losing and that's great. And yes, the numbers are dropping, both on the scale and on the tag on my pants. And I'm so happy about that. I really, really am. I'm grateful that I'm in that zone where what I'm doing is working and it doesn't feel like work for me. I'm not having to fight cravings. The fact that there have been donuts on the breakroom at work three out of the last four weeks hasn't been an issue for me is really good news.

So maybe the secret to losing sizes is exercise? See...I don't really exercise. Like at all. I don't like it. I hate to hear myself breathe during exercise and I really don't like to sweat. It's just icky.

Changing my eating habits is my secret to weight loss but because of that, perhaps I need to shut my big fat mouth and stop complaining when it takes me 35 pounds to lose two sizes. Either that, or get out there and start walking/jogging/running which might actually work the inches away faster than not eating so many York peppermint patties.

Who knows? Definitely not me since even with all this introspection, I really don't have any intention of testing this theory by, you know, actually exercising. That would make too much sense. And it would make me breathe hard, which is just unpleasant.

Instead, I'll keep doing what I've been doing and hope it continues to work. I have continued to lower my expectations as the months go on. I knew going into February that I wouldn't lose another 17 pounds like I did in January. I also knew as I looked forward to March that I probably wouldn't lose 10 pounds like I did in February. And as April looms, I don't expect to lose another 8 which is what I managed to lose in March. But 6 would be nice. Yeah, 6 pounds would be great. It would push me over that 40 pound mark. That would be lovely.

If I manage that, I might not even bitch about the fact that I'm still in the same size at the end of April that I am now, at the end of March. There's always hope.