Poundage

I lost six and a half pounds this month.  And I did it while eating whatever I felt like eating.  I'm trying to let that sink in.

Got up, started the coffee, got Banks ready for our walk, all the while warily eying, and avoiding the bathroom scale.  I do NOT step on that thing -- not when it really counts, anyway -- until after elimination and before any food intake.  Really.  You never know what might push it over that half-pound mark, even a gulp of water.  So we did our five, this time on the clock, and I weighed myself on our return.  Heck, even sweating could have an effect.

It's only been a month, and maybe I shouldn't jump to any conclusions.  Maybe there were a couple of extra holiday pounds there that dropped easily.  Maybe the shock of walking 30 miles in a month jolted my body into some kind of adrenaline-fueled state, and now that it's used to this pace, the weight loss will slow down a bit.

I don't care.

I look back on January, and here are some of the meals that jump out at me:  a meatfest at Fogo de Chao; two hearty breakfasts at Curra's and Another Broken Egg; several trips to Chipotle (a real weakness for me); movie popcorn at the Alamo; a huge steak and baked potato at Austin Land and Cattle; lots of morning bagels, my favorite breakfast; and even a trip to Church's Fried Chicken.  Laura, a colleage, keeps a bowlful of bite-sized chocolates on her desk.  I love her but she is pure evil. I cannot resist dipping into that bowl, though I limit myself to two a day.

In between those indulgences, I eat like a semi-normal/healthy person.  I don't eat donuts, or put away a quart of ice cream at a single sitting.  And I do keep an eye on the cholesterol and calorie thing.  MOST of the time.

Walking five miles a day is a lot easier than limiting yourself to 1,200 calories a day.  At least it is for me.  And I just showed my middle-aged self that I can walk 130 miles in a month.

Today is a good day.