The final day of the weight loss program I purchased at the clinic has come and gone.
When I looked ahead to this day, I thought it would be a happy one. It should be.
I went into the weight loss clinic in July, weighing over 184 pounds and feeling hopeless about my chances of losing it.
Today, I am 54 pounds lighter. I look better than I did 10 years ago, and I definitely feel better than I have at almost any other point in my life.
I have more energy. I have more strength. I have a more positive outlook on life.
So why am I feeling so sad right now?
I have come a long way, but I didn’t meet my goal.
“What are you talking about?” my counselor demanded, pointing to the number on her computer screen. On my first day at the clinic, she asked me where I wanted to end up. I told her 130 pounds, thinking it would be a cold day in hell before I saw that number again on my own scale. I hit that mark. My BMI is a healthy 24, which entitles me to free services there during my maintenance (for as long as I want; my entire life, if that’s what I need).
According to everyone at the clinic, I’ve been wildly successful.
But once I started the program and the pounds started coming off quicker than I ever thought possible, I revised my goal.
I weighed 124 the day I got married, and by golly, I decided I wanted to weigh 124 again.
Last week, when the counselor informed me that I would be finishing weight loss today, I realized I wouldn’t meet the goal. I thought I would be okay with it, and yesterday, I even went off-diet a bit.
“What’s this on your food diary? You had a latte?!” She shook her head in disapproval.
Maybe I engaged in a bit of self-sabotage. I definitely made a bad choice or two yesterday.
So I was surprised when I got on my scale this morning to see that it showed a two-pound loss since yesterday.
Now, my bathroom scale is old technology; analog versus the digital, computerized one that is used at the clinic. I only use it to get a ballpark feel for how I’ve done. My weight on the clinic scale is usually two pounds higher; sometimes as much as four pounds higher.
Yesterday morning, my bathroom scale read 128 while the weight clinic weight was 130.
This morning, I weighed 126 in the bathroom. I got on a second time and got the same result.
So I walked into the clinic this morning feeling confident that despite my missteps yesterday, I finished the program a little closer to my goal.
I should know better than to walk into the clinic feeling cocky. Today turned out to be one of the times when my scale was wildly off the one at the clinic: My official weight loss record will reflect a half-pound gain over where I was yesterday.
The happy anticipation I was feeling turned to disappointment. And anger.
Because this is IT.
I’m done.
I am not about to shell out more money for another weight loss module to lose six more pounds (even if it wasn’t exorbitantly expensive).
I’m ready to move on to the next steps: “Metabolic adjustment” (where I eat a modified version of the diet I’ve been on for the last six months in an effort to get my body accustomed to its new weight), and then: Maintenance, where I will learn how to eat like a “normal” person (you know what I mean. Now that I’ve come this far, I cannot allow myself to gain it all back).
So I left the clinic this morning feeling deflated.
I’m shopping for a new scale.
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