Last week I told you that I wasn't going to weigh in because I feared that a gain or plateau would tempt me to give up. I know my body, and I know even better how my brain responds to a stall in progress. Staying away from the scale was a good decision.
Well, I didn't really stay away from the scale; I weigh myself in the lunchroom on Tuesday mornings to get a sneak peek at my progress. Last week I showed no loss, and I didn't want to put that on paper.
So guess who strolled into dubdub with complete confidence this afternoon? This one right here! I'm down 5.6 lbs, for a grand total of 22 lbs!!! That's huge!
I haven't lost enough for anyone to really notice. I mean, nobody's come up to me and asked about it - not that they should or that I expect it. Outside of this blog, I don't advertise my meeting attendance or tell people about my weigh-ins; I'm not expecting a prize. But I'm sure at some point people will notice, even if they don't say anything about it. Until then, losing is my little (big) secret.
The last time I was losing, I got more response than I expected. It encouraged me to talk about my numbers, to celebrate successes...until one of my friends knocked me down a couple pegs.
Before we parted for the summer of 2003, I made a deal with Justin that I would lose 50 lbs before we got back to school or I would have to pay him $100. I went away to work at Yellowstone, and when I came back three months later it was clear that I won the challenge.
I hit my -65 lb mark over a month later when we were in dress rehearsal for Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and mentioned it in the dressing room. A couple of people commended me for it, but Justin snapped out of nowhere. "So what? Do you want a prize? It's not like you lost a hundred pounds."
I know you're reading this, J, and it fucking hurt my feelings. I've never told you this before, but I will never forget what you said.
I think it was Lindsay O. who, taken aback by his comment, pressed on in my defense (hard to imagine) that it was a huge milestone. Justin said, "Well good for you, but I don't know why you need me to be happy for you. Why does it matter what I think?"
I remember sitting in front of the makeup mirror in my wig and costume, getting hot in the face and trying to hold back tears. The dressing room was full of quiet tension - Mom and Dad were fighting. My best friend and biggest champion just pulled the net out from under me. These kind of mood swings were hardly uncommon with him, but I never thought I'd be bearing the brunt of one like this. It sucked.
I kept losing after that, but the memory of that comment never left me. I shouldn't expect anyone to care that I'm losing weight, but I kind of expected the support of the guy who challenged me to it in the first place. I would expect the support of my friends.
Now that I've had to start all over again, this success is my secret. It's that compass in me that I won't let anybody else demagnetize with their comments, "tips," and judgment about what goes on my plate. This is mine.
So there's that,