Heavy

First the caveats.

It's hot out. It was in the afternoon, and after I'd drunk a lot (of non-alcoholic beverages).

Don't ask me what, exactly, possessed me to do this today, after not having done it for at least a year.

But it seems I have binged, exercised almost daily, and not-focused-on-the-number all the way up to – per the gym scale -- 180 pounds.

Which is nearly 40 pounds more than I weighed at my lowest weight ever, in 2009. A weight which, OK, I accept – based on commentary of friends and family since then – to have been too low. I think I was 150-155 when I left England in 2010.

I'm not sure I've quite processed it, because I am not freaking out quite as much as I thought I might be, although of course I immediately felt ginormous when I looked in the mirror. Or at least, more ginormous than usual. Funny how a dress that looked almost OK the other day (because I don't like how I look in much of anything these days) immediately seemed to fit differently (translation: worse).

I feel like it's no longer acceptable for me to walk around in gym clothes, which I often do. (Maybe this is the excuse I need to stop being so sloppy and you know, maybe even put on some lipstick every once in a while.)

I immediately want to set all kinds of goals. 165? 150? 155? Yowza, 25 pounds?

And then I stop my mind racing about it, or try to.

I know that when I've been very overweight, 180-185 was always the point where I'd start to look normal-ish – where I could walk into any shop and find something that fit. I guess maybe my body composition has changed or the sizing has, because I can put US 8/10s on my body.

Either way, I need to remember that there have been times in my life when I would have been delighted to be this size, and that I'm still a good 60 pounds lower than I was where I started. And also: That I am headed in the right direction, even if the right direction is no change in weight at all.

Day 38.