A Celebration and a Promise

It was actually very anticlimactic. I got on the scale today and saw THE NUMBER. The one I have been waiting for the past seven months. I have a weight recorder on my phone with which I have been keeping up with my progress since I started on this weight-loss journey. When I record my weight, it tells me my BMI. Then it tells me where I am in terms of health. For example when I first started it said, “31.3…obese.” Eek! I did not like seeing the “o” word. Then I got down to “29.7…overweight.” Okay, that is slightly better. I can say “overweight” without feeling like an utter failure. Still, I wanted so badly to see “29.5…healthy.” I imagined the day. I saw myself jumping up and down, squealing in delight as I looked at the brightly shining scale. Maybe I would cry as I told my husband that I had finally reached my goal. Definitely I would walk on Cloud Nine all day. The air would smell sweeter and angels would sing in the heavenlies. Not so much.

I woke up this morning feeling like what I’m sure dog poo must feel like: abandoned, stinky, and crappy. I have a terrible cold. Really, it’s the worst I’ve had in at least a couple of years. So, I grudgingly scraped myself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. After getting rid of a little water weight, I flushed the toilet and limped over to the scale for my weekly weigh-in. When I looked down, there it was, in all it’s digital, red glory. The number that I knew corresponded to the “healthy” word that I have been expectantly anticipating. I could barely manage a smile. So…one more ideal down the tube. “But the title suggests a celebration,”  you say. And I know this does not seem very celebratory. But the truth is that even though the scale didn’t throw confetti and no light shone down from the sky, I am celebrating, in my own cold-infected way. It wasn’t the Earth-moving event I thought it would be, but deep inside I can feel the difference. This celebration is more of just the knowledge that I have spent time and energy and accomplished a goal I set out to accomplish. No crazy emotions,  just the simple pride of achievement. Which in a way is a little sweeter. More real. I have lost 40 lbs., lost 10% of my body weight…twice, and made myself much healthier and (let’s face it) prettier than I was. Even if my nose is missing skin on the tip from rubbing it raw, that is cause to celebrate!

I greeted this day not only with quiet celebration, but with a promise to myself: I will never again apologize for how I look. Not to others and, more importantly, not to myself. I will never again whine to others about how fat I look. I will never bemoan my rolls. I won’t look at my tummy and wish to myself that it was flatter.  I won’t talk about how big my butt is. I won’t grumble about my legs that still touch. I won’t moan about flab on my arms. That. Is. Done. Period. I have never in my life been healthy. I have worked so hard to get where I am, and my body has made all that possible. My body has served me well as I have walked every night and denied it food every day. I will honor all the choices I’ve made. I will not apologize. I am healthy and I am beautiful. So as I finish today, I will go to bed knowing that I have done a good job and that I will continue to work in the future. And I will do it all knowing that I have a body that I do not – and will not – have to apologize for. Despite the head cold, today is a good day.