Tag Archives: clothes

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NEW DAY 365: One-year anniversary! 🥂

Committing to weight loss isn’t a decision you make once.

It’s a series of decisions you make every day, throughout the day, multiple times a day.
The days turn into weeks.
Then months.
Then, somehow, a year.

A year’s worth of thousands upon thousands of decisions range from seemingly inconsequential to monumental to overwhelming — as do the results.

The person I was a year ago today was shattered, tentative, reeling, and supremely unhealthy in every way. She got moving because her mind became so paralyzed by external inputs that it shut down and her body took control. She was in no way the “she believed she could, so she did!” meme; she was trapped kinetic energy, desperate to escape the confines of her physical being. A year ago today, she wasn’t trying to do anything beyond survive the next 10 minutes.

She would be floored to hear what she was about to do over the next 365 days.

She got reacquainted — painfully, slowly, and sweatily — with the elliptical, in 5-minute increments, until she could do a continuous hour. It took her 4 months to go from 6 miserable minutes to 60 manageable ones.

Then she ran 4 elliptical miles in 60 minutes.
Then 5.
Then 6.
Then 7.

Then she ran 8 elliptical miles in 70 minutes.
Then 9.
Then 9.3.

She ran 30 seconds on her bum ankle on the treadmill, at a pace barely above walking.
Then 60-second intervals.
Then 90-second intervals.
Then 2-minute, 3-minute, and 5-minute intervals.
She increased her speed and ran a full mile.
Then 2.
She dutifully iced and elevated her ankle after every run until it learned it could handle it.
So she increased her pace and kept at it.

She signed up for, self-trained for, and finished a half-marathon.
She saw her finish-line photo and, for the first time, saw a runner.
She then registered for 2 more half-marathons.

She became an athlete.

She tried 75 Hard. She got sick, got rained on, got injured, and bled through her clothes while refusing to abandon her workout. She completed the challenge.
She rediscovered her love of being outside and how restorative it is to her mind and body.
She got trapped by 14 inches of snow before vacation. She spent 4 days digging out, arrived at her destination only to have to dig that out, too. She went running on the frozen beach the next day.
She made up and tried Power 11. No one was watching. She finished it as competitor, coach, and cheerleader.
She dealt with illness, pain, interruption, inconvenience, and deterrence. She found ways to move anyway. It made her stronger.

She became someone who does not quit.

She cut added sugar completely out of her diet for several months, both in a row and in a cumulative-intermittent fashion.
She experimented and figured out what type of eating schedule her body responds best to.
She gained new nutritional knowledge.
She learned her hunger and satiety cues and no longer has cravings or urges to snack.
She found herself deaf to food noise and disinterested in consuming anything that wouldn’t support her health.
She tested new recipes and gave second, third, and fourth chances to foods she’d previously decided she didn’t like — and discovered she liked them when prepared differently.
She turned herself into an exceptional menu planner and meal prepper, and a creative experimental chef as well as a more-adventurous eater.
She learned she could be healthy by liking everything she eats, even if she doesn’t necessarily eat everything she likes.

She became someone who nourishes herself.

She eats to feed herself, not her cravings.
She keeps promises to herself first, not last.
She exercises for self-love, not self-punishment.

She became someone who takes care of herself.

If I could somehow sit beside Past-Me and tell her what her first decision one year ago would lead to today, she would hardly believe it. Looking at it now — knowing it happened — I admit there’s a small part of Present-Me that hardly believes it, too. Would vocalizing a year’s worth of select spoilers to her make it feel more real to both of us?

Hey girl. Life is about to change profoundly for you.

You’ll go through stretches of cooperation with an alacritous scale, reliably dropping pounds in a way that motivates you to keep going — yet no one notices you’re getting smaller. But you don’t care, because this feels fragile, and having other people’s voices enter the conversation you’re having with yourself feels like a possible destabilizer. You’re not trying to have that right now. This is yours. You protect it and you keep moving forward.

After about six months, you enter what feels like interminable stagnation with what the scale shows you. You seriously consider burning your scale and buying a new one that isn’t such a damn liar. Then one day, you stop to eat on your five-hour drive to your brother’s baby shower for the weekend. When you get out of the car and close the door behind you, your ring goes flying off your finger and skitters across the parking lot. You chase after it in maniacal laughter. You suddenly don’t care about the scale anymore.

You’ll become obsessed with the process. You’ll get sick of it. You’ll be nonplussed by it. You’ll be unfazed by it. And, eventually, you’ll be integrated with it.

It will challenge you. It will teach you. It will strengthen you. It will humble you. It will empower you.

It will you-ify you.

You will start to love the person you’re excavating. You’ll understand her in ways that were too inaccessible, too intense, too scary before. But they’re possible a year from now, because you trust yourself after the months of investing in yourself.

And when it feels too hard, you’ll invoke one of your two mantras:
1) “This is easy.” Not because it is, but because after everything you’ve done — like coaching yourself through those first breathless minutes on the elliptical at nearly 300 lbs — running that measly treadmill mile is nothing. Every time you push yourself, you put your arms around the version of you who truly wanted to go, but genuinely couldn’t. The person you’re becoming is doing it for the person you used to be. She lit the match. You carry the torch.
2) “I am so strong.” Because you are. And you know it.

You’ll become your own inspiration. You’ll become your own cause to honor. And you’ll become your own best friend.

As your process continues, you’ll clock the outwardly visible changes:

  • Your face is narrower. You can see the piercings in your ears without turning your head — including the 4 new ones you’ll get in the first half of 2026 that punctuate your progress.
  • Your collarbones, shoulders, and neck muscles are poppin’. You think it makes you look more feminine.
  • Bye bye, boobies / ta ta, titties — the girls have done some shrinking.
  • Your arms are thinning out. The gardening gloves that are supposed to be roomy, finally are. The wristband for your VivoFit has more excess band beyond the closure notch than it does before it. Sleeves don’t cut off circulation anymore.
  • Shirts don’t squeeze your torso anymore.
  • You’ll spend a small fortune trying to keep up with replacing the underwear that hangs and slides off your ass in a constant struggle with gravity.
  • Your legs don’t brush together with every step anymore. Your knees are bonier. Your quads and hamstrings show definition as if you’re some kind of… runner.
  • Your over-developed calves still touch when you stand, but now so do your ankles when you lie down.
  • There’s all kinds of space between your toes now.
  • You go down a half shoe size.
  • You go down 5 dress sizes.
  • You go down 6 pants sizes.
  • You go down 4 shirt sizes.
  • You lose a cup size.
  • You can wear a necklace that, when it was first gifted to you, inspired the indignant thought, “whose neck is that small?!”
  • You can wear a ring on your middle finger that, when it was first gifted to you, fit none of your fingers.
  • You can wear what you want instead of settling for what fits.
  • You look happy, not haunted.

You’ll note the things your body can do now that it couldn’t a year ago:

  • There’s not a seat you can’t sit in. Airplane. Theater. Stadium. Desk chair. Restaurant booth. Behind the wheel, you have to move the seat forward one day simply because the excess fat is no longer pushing your whole body forward and closer to the pedals, and you can’t reach the steering column without adjusting the position. When you put on your seatbelt, you pull it across your body and buckle it in one fluid motion instead of pulling it out as far as it can go in order to fasten it.
  • Regular belts? Also a thing you can fasten.
  • You can carry purses and bags with long straps without having to hold onto them the whole time so your hip isn’t bumping them off because it sticks out too far when you walk.
  • You aren’t constantly making contact with the shower curtain or running out of breath when you shower.
  • Those two creaky bottom steps that embarrass you at your parents’ house? They stop making noise when you walk on them. Actually, you don’t really walk on them; you run up and down stairs now. On your tiptoes. The way you did when you were a kid.
  • Your ankle is chatty and whiny sometimes, but it doesn’t refuse to play. In fact, it takes very little — if any — ice or elevation to recover from what you ask of it. Inflammation in general is barely even a thing for you these days.
  • You almost never get headaches anymore.
  • You do half marathons.
  • You do Pilates. It’s hard. It kinda sucks sometimes. You love it. Oh yeah — you have core strength now.
  • You do 6+ miles on the elliptical in an hour and it’s a casual cardio night.
  • Perhaps to your greatest surprise, your menstrual cycle comes back. It will come regularly, like clockwork, every month for you, starting in October. At the start of each one of the first five periods you get in a row, you will cry on the toilet. And then you will laugh at yourself for crying on the toilet.

You’ll log the stats:

  • You don’t randomly wake up with your heart racing anymore. Your average blood pressure is 101/68 and your average resting heart rate is 57 bpm.
  • 21 DietBets won (and you’re working on 3 more).
  • 252 total inches gone since you started tracking various body measurements1 in January 2026.
  • Your BMI drops from 50.2 (Class III obesity) to 29.5 (Overweight — just regular-fat!).
  • You’ve lost exactly 126 pounds since February 2025 as of this morning, 106.4 of them since today’s date a year ago — since you decided to try something.

But the most meaningful things you’ll notice are the unquantifiable changes in the way you behave and how you feel:

  • You stop suffering from energy spikes and collapses.
  • Your brain fog decreases significantly.
  • You don’t always sleep that well — some things never change — but the sleep you do get is more restful. At some point, you stop snoring.
  • Your relationship with food becomes so normal that it barely qualifies as a relationship. Food is fuel, not temptation.
  • Your confidence surges.
  • You remember how good success feels, and you want more of it.
  • You chase a challenge because you’re curious about how you’ll do it. Not if you’ll do it; HOW.
  • You find clarity and peace from movement. You look forward to it. It is not an instrument of suffering; it’s an instrument of regulation.
  • You take pleasure in experimenting with new exercises that strengthen you as a runner, because that’s how you see yourself now.
  • You stop using an apologetic tone when you say things like “I don’t eat sugar” or “I can’t, I’m going on a run”.
  • You actually say things like “I don’t eat sugar” or “I can’t, I’m going on a run”.
  • You stop hiding from things like cameras and mirrors. And from doctors and masseuses. And from new experiences and opportunities.
  • You know the difference between challenging and unrealistic.
  • You know the difference between discomfort from growth and discomfort from pain or risk of injury.
  • You understand your body’s limits, and you respect them.

Just last night, on the eve of your one-year anniversary as you were drafting this post, you had ice cream. It was the new Häagen-Dazs peanut butter brittle flavor that you bought over a week ago — along with 3 other pints — and kept in your freezer until you wanted some. You loaded a medium ramekin with the 6 spoonfuls that you’ve learned is the maximum amount your stomach can handle without knotting up.
You ate it slowly. It satisfied you. Then you didn’t want any more.
In fact, you determined the ice cream was too sweet.
You decided to drop what’s left of the pint at your parents’.

Who even are you?

You’re you, you-ified.

Thank you for taking that first step. We did this. We are doing this.


Happy first anniversary to all my Mes: past, present, and future.

Same time next year?

  1. upper arm (L), forearm (L), wrist (L), ring finger (L), bust, upper waist, lower waist/stomach, hips, upper thigh (L), calf (L), ankle (L) ↩︎
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NEW DAY 292: Gone tomorrow

The scale has been a prick to me lately. I wandered in the desert of the 200s for 6 long weeks, and now I’m closing in on the same amount of time in the 190s (although I saw an exit ramp to that when I peaked this morning 🫣). It’s enough to make a person snap.

Luckily, I’ve learned a good bit about resilience these last almost 10 months. I’ve also learned to look for progress in other sources, like measurements, the way I feel, and how clothes fit.

That skirt I shrank into only a month ago?

It’s too big now.

I am now officially in the shorts.

Gooooooooooood night.

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NEW DAY 266: If the shoe (no longer) fits…

…you may be experiencing triple-digit weight loss.

For the past few weeks, my body has been doing weird new things that I would have expected at a larger size, but never encountered before. Now that I’m smaller, it’s thrown me to experience:

  • Intermittent lower back pain for stretches of days at a time with no clear trigger
  • Toenails on the big toe of each foot whose outer corners I’ve had to excavate from the nail bed every few weeks
  • Numbness on the balls of my feet setting in on long walks or runs
  • CALF SORENESS!!! Of all the strange symptoms, this has been most puzzling; my calves have always been extraordinarily muscular and never had a problem hauling wide loads all over the globe. You’d think they’d be quieter than ever now that they have 106 fewer pounds to carry!

Never one to let a mystery go unsolved, I logged these irregularities in my mental notepad and went about looking for a pattern that could link them together.

Then today, while seated at the bicep curl machine and dreading my cardio session because of the unrelenting back ache, I recalled how my feet were sliding forward into the toe boxes of the shoes I had on during my trail walk yesterday. They didn’t used to do that. It then struck me that my indoor gym shoes were making the same thing happen on the elliptical. That’s when the chain reaction of realizations connected all the recent exhibits of my body’s unusual behavior. If my shoes — every pair — are now too big, that means my feet have gotten smaller.

When there’s too much extra room in shoes, the feet slide forward against the edge of the sneaker and wreak havoc on toenails. Excess interior shoe space forces feet to try to gain traction within the shoe while also trying to use the shoe to gain traction on the ground outside of it, putting extra pressure on the balls of the feet and straining the midfoot. The legs (and ankles) have to work harder to maintain stability. Then it all travels up to the lower back, which is trying to compensate for all the shenanigans that the entire wayward muscle chain below it is causing.

No wonder my body is throwing a minor tantrum.

Needless to say, I have a pair of tennis shoes arriving soon — half a size smaller. This is such lucky timing; I have ALMOST bought new ones a few times in the past couple of weeks, and I’m so glad I didn’t because they would have been the wrong size. Even better, this gives me about 6 weeks to break in the new kicks before my half marathon the first weekend of May. It’s a shame my lower body had to mildly suffer to get my brain to figure this out, but at least it wasn’t in vain — and frankly, for the amount of avoidable silliness I put it through, its protests were quite tame (which I appreciate).

This revelation was a heckuva way to mark day 60 of Power 11.

Weight loss.
A trek through absurdity.

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NEW DAY 264: Tightening the belt

I’ve never been a “let’s wear belts” girlie. Even if I’d had the figure for them, they didn’t fit.

Last night, a belt I’d had hanging on the inside of the closet door for several years that came as an accessory to a dress I’ve only ever worn beltless, almost literally jumped out at me. Out of curiosity, I picked it up and wondered if the new waist I have might now support this kind of flair.

I missed the window.

Somehow in the past 8 months and change — emphasis on the “change” — I’ve gone from not fitting into a plus-size belt, to a plus-size belt not fitting onto me. By quite a large margin.

This is the type of dangerous thing that has set an untenable precedent. Here at the 106.6-pound mark of weight lost to date, with the introduction of strength training, the drops are smaller. The finish line is closer than it was when I was 50% heavier, but shedding that last ~55 lbs is likely going to take at least the same amount of time as that first 106.6.

On the one hand, that’s daunting and demotivating. On the other hand, it’s motivating and exciting.

Being ⅔ of the way through the climb up a steep hill allows you to see how far you’ve come, and it’s a tough slog powering through that last third when you’ve expended a good amount of energy already getting to that point. But you don’t climb a hill unless you intend to reach the top. So maybe you have to slow down in order to conserve the strength you need to keep going. That takes a different kind of effort. So it’s time to strap in.

Just with a smaller belt.

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NEW DAY 260: Downsizing

In a past life, when I was having success with weight loss, I used to do this thing where I’d buy a few articles of clothing a size down from where I was, every time I reached a new smallest size. Staying on top of the sartorial demands of slimming down is an expensive pursuit whose timing is unpredictable, so it helps to be prepared for it; my little gimmick helped not only to keep me motivated, but to keep me clothed. My big move was rifling through the sales and clearance racks for off-season finds that gave me a comfortable cushion, to the extent that the season-bound availability allowed. Every time I purchased a downsizing garment, I wrote the date on the tag, which remained attached until that piece fit. Once I could wear it and it became an official part of my wardrobe, it was a cool way to track the time between size changes that weren’t always congruent with the scale — and it came with a fun little ceremonial act of snipping off the tag.

Last night, while I was laying out my attire for today (to save me time in the morning), I found one such relic from that bygone era:

I tried on this skirt and it fit. With room to spare. (So yes, I wore it today.)

Seeing the date on the tag as I cut it off triggered a memory of a couple of other items I bought around the same time: two pairs of… shorts. 😱

I found them immediately, folded together in a tiny stack on a shelf in my closet: one a size 14, and the other a quixotic size 12. The tags aren’t dated, but I’m reasonably certain they were from around the same time as when I bought the skirt I wore today, if not from the same shopping trip.

These are the two smallest downsize items I have. This means two pretty big things:
1) I have never been as small as I am now.
2) I am about to enter a new frontier that I am literally not outfitted for.

I set both pairs of shorts out in plain view for subtle thinspiration. It was too soon to try on either of those sizes, having newly sized down into 16s. Maybe in another month or two, I’d be up for trying on those 14s. For now, those two pretty big things are a lot to absorb.

So when I got home from work today, in the skirt I was wearing for the first time since purchasing it more than 9 years ago — because I regained all the weight I’d lost before I got the chance to shrink into it — I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t also be the last. I picked up those size-14 shorts from their spot and held them up in front of me. The idea of fitting into them suddenly didn’t seem so outlandish.

And it wasn’t.

Because they fit.

Not perfectly. Not as flatteringly as they will after another few inches disappear from my hips and waist.
But the fastener closed.
The zipper slid right up.
Those shorts were on me.
And I was floored.

It’s truthfully a little nerve racking; I have no blueprint for this phase. I haven’t “been there before”. I don’t know what I’ll look like the next size down. I don’t know what I’ll feel like when those 12s are sliding on. I don’t know how things will fit me at clothing sizes I’ve never bought ahead, let alone worn. Most alarmingly, I don’t know for sure that I’m gonna make it to the next size below. There’s no precedent for any of that.

But I made the major choice at the outset that every minor choice I make in this process will support my overall health. I do know I won’t deviate from that, because there’s nothing but precedent for it — and a trove of powerful results that have come from it. I believe in what I’m doing. I may not be prepared for the next step down, but when I get there, I will be ready.

This is where the real emotional work begins. In the interest of always choosing my health, I’ve been laying track for months to support my psychological journey that will go right through the heart of this thing. It’s already been exhausting, and it’s not even at full speed yet. The beautiful thing I have going for me is the physical activity that keeps me mentally regulated. And that’s a full circle.

So I might as well complete another circle while I’m at it. New frontier sounds pretty great to me.

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NEW DAY 217: Walk on

Today was my prescribed rest day for this week of Power 11. It came at a good time; each ankle had its own special little tantrum at different moments last night, so it was a well-timed moment for a break. I did end up doing 20 minutes on my walking pad at home after work, though, to make sure I hit my daily steps goal for the day. While doing that, I had a realization: my balance has crazy improved.

My first foray into the world of the walking pad was back in the fall when I was doing 75 Hard. My first walk, and all those I did subsequently, were unsteady. It wasn’t so much a walk as a stagger, like that fool at the office holiday party who had more than one too many trips to the spiked punch bowl and is in no way pulling off the ruse. I had to hold on to my raised standing desk just to make sure I didn’t tumble off backwards or sideways, even for a short walk at a low speed.

Today, for the first time, I didn’t have to hold on. I walked briskly (3.4 mph) for 20 minutes with zero contact — and, more excitingly, zero swerves or stumbles.

It’s not just that my balance has improved; my stamina and strength have, too. I am no longer the spitting image of a failed DUI traffic stop when I take to the walking pad; I’m a woman with purpose.

Fitting, after a year of staggering through uncertainty and hoping — and then working hard — to regain my footing.

Speaking of fitting, I used my lunch break today to take a tour of my “before” pieces. These relics of my most-enormous size are the equivalent of snacking on grapes when what you really want is M&Ms: because I am only weighing myself once a week on Power 11, I can’t sneak a peek at the scale on days when I’m feeling curious. (There’s a reason for this: I’m trying to break my obsession with that number so it won’t become my whole worth. I say this while actively working towards a rather aggressive goal with a deadline that’s precisely 3 weeks away, but I digress.) Instead of indulging my curiosity, I try on the couple of articles of clothing I’ve held on to that remind me of where I started, so I can see how far I’ve come.

Today, I fit into one leg of my size 24 “before” pants. And after stepping into it (still zipped) through the neck, my “before” dress slid off my shoulders and right onto the floor.

Funny how that instantly killed any interest I had in what the scale might have had to say.

And so I walk on… with purpose.

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NEW DAY 135: Keep your pants on!

Yesterday, I had major pants problems. The sweats I slept in have become so loose at the waist that they sit lower on my body when I put them on, creating a major tripping hazard because of the excess fabric at the ends of the legs. More often than logical, I step on one of the legs and end up pantsing myself. I was having house work done yesterday, so I changed into more-fitted sweats so as not to risk exposing myself to an entire work crew. Or so I thought. While walking across the yard to clear out some debris, those pants fully fell to the ground — showing my whole downstairs to anyone who may have been innocently looking out their window at that moment.

The offending pants and a formerly fitted top are pictured here:

I, um, need new clothes.

And I love this problem. You know, except for the sudden breezes.

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NEW DAY 114: Pic a little, talk a little

This has been a frustrating week. I am feeling so TGIF, I could be watching Boy Meets World. (#Millennials) In fact, here’s a gif — because you can’t spell TGIF without GIF.

(Yes, I know it would have been better to have put a Boy Meets World gif there, but I didn’t. Let’s move on.)

The 75 Hard tasks this week have felt like a heavy lift, particularly those pesky second workouts. Getting myself psyched up enough to go do workout #2 every evening has been an EFFORT. But I’ve been doing it! I still feel good at the end of my exercise sessions and have no designs on quitting the challenge, but the challenge was much easier and more enjoyable until the recent switch away from when I genuinely looked forward to both. Sixty-two days is a long time to go without a single rest day, and needless to say, 75 days is even longer. It’s simply starting to wear on me.

…believe it or not, “wear on me” is actually a phrase I didn’t intend to use there, but damn if it isn’t a completely perfect pivot point — because I just finished combing through my library of 75 Hard daily progress selfies and noticing the differences in how my workout clothes have been *literally* wearing on me these past 2 months. The garb I’m usually rocking in my photos is my outdoor workout stuff: shorts and a sleeveless top. Today, I wore the exact same combination of top and bottom attire that I wore back on day 13, so I pulled up the two pics for a side-by-side comparison.

Holy whoa.

I knew I could feel a difference in how the clothes were fitting, but actually seeing the differences through the cruelly objective camera lens really hit. A pu pu platter of my reaction thoughts:

  • I was so much bigger 49 days ago — and that was after having already lost a notable amount of weight in the two months leading up to that point.
  • Day 62 Me looks taller.
  • 75 Hard is chiseling a shape out of the amorphous blob that was my figure 2 months ago.
  • Gosh, Day 13 Me looks unhappy.

It’s been an eventful 9 weeks, both in terms of what my body has extraneously endured and persevered through in the name of sticking with the challenge, as well as in the grand scheme of things life wise. It’s no wonder I’ve felt drained lately (although that’s been less of an issue since my most recent period ended a few days ago). If I were capable of sustaining a camera-lens level of objectivity at all times, I’d more readily have the accurate perspective that I’ve absolutely dominated these past 62 days in spite of some true nonsense that’s come my way in that time.

I will honor the sad person in the day 13 photo who wants to feel better, to look better, to do better, to be better. I know I’m gonna finish 75 Hard — I know that. And it’s gonna feel freakin’ fantastic.

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NEW DAY 110: Shadowy figures

For the second week in a row, my weight loss wasn’t what I was hoping for.

It’s true that any loss is a move in the right direction — and objectively, the amount I shed this past week was an amount I’ll probably kill to have a few months from now — but the back-to-back modest decreases on the scale seem unaligned with the effort (and exhaustion) I’ve put in for the past two weeks.

As always, I try to keep perspective: weight loss during 75 Hard is a happy byproduct, not the primary goal. I’m working on my mental toughness and keeping commitments to myself, and I’m coming through on those fronts so far. That said, I’d be lying if I claimed to have no hoped-for final total number of lost pounds in mind for this challenge — and it’s hard not to fixate on that alongside my personally disappointing numbers from the past two weeks.

BUT there are plenty of other positives to focus on. For one, I’ve racked up another official DietBet victory as of today, and am only 1.1 pound away from winning the Kickstarter that ends a week from now. I’ve persisted with 75 Hard (day 58, baby!) and continued to prioritize my health. And, most excitingly, I’m seeing more and more evidence of the physical changes in my body.

Over the weekend, I tried on 7 dresses that didn’t fit when I first started 75 Hard. Three of them now fit, and the other 4 should by the time the challenge is over. I found my very old fat pants and saw tonight that they’re too big at the waist by about 6 inches. I’ve moved a ring I’ve been wearing on my ring finger to my middle finger so it won’t slide off. I can see more bones in my hands and feet. Perhaps most unexpectedly and strangest of all: my shadow looks thinner.

Now I know that shadows aren’t the best metric of, well, anything. But I’ve been staring at mine during outdoor workouts for nearly 2 full months as it walks, jogs, and dances alongside me. During these outings, I’ve seen the bulges and pudge accentuated by the sun in ways that not even the mirror is cruel enough to shove in my face so mercilessly. Suddenly, this week, there’s, like… a whole lot less of that.

My figure is smoother. It’s not just that it moves more fluidly; its lines are more continuous. It’s more graceful, less bulky, and somehow more confident. It’s perhaps a strange thing to notice, but it’s also an impossible one not to.

It’s important to pay attention to how all of the normal markers are changing during a weight-loss mission. Non-scale victories are validating and affirming when the numbers don’t feel satisfying, and they’re helpful data beyond the unreliable narrator that is That Number. Things that keep me sane are pretty worthwhile, I’ve found, so I’ll always welcome them with open arms — even if some might call them a little shady. 😉

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NEW DAY 57: Loose caboose

We have achieved saggy underwear, people. This is not a drill.

It’s that otherworldly moment of weight loss where somehow the waistband still fits, but the seat has extra room — and that extra room hangs off the booty like it melted. This creates quite the bum conundrum: it’s not ideal to have a bunch of excess material chilling in your pants, but it’s also not quite time for new undies.

And yet, I can’t complain at all. It’s physical evidence that there’s less cushion behind me. Woo! Talk about working your ass off, amirite??

Speaking of which, I am about to end day 5 of 75 Hard. Math tells me that I’m 6.7% of the way to the finish line. I may get there limping, kicking, screaming, and dragging a trail of unfilled panty material behind me, but gosh darn it, I’m gonna get there!

I can’t wait to see what else doesn’t fit by late October. ☺️