Nothing to Fear, But...

I fear the end of the journey.

This morning, I was over at the Northern Illinois University campus, attending a business review that my Awesome Boss (A-B) recommended for me. In addition to this, I went to a seminar earlier in the week, I have a dozen (literally) projects and presentations to build, and today, I joined the executives at their quartile review & pow-wow session.

After 10 years as an independent recruiter, where I was largely relegated to back corners and any place they could put an extra (fat) desk for me to do One Job Only, this is as refreshing as, well, a run in the neighborhood. A-B seems excited about my prospects, and I am devouring his faith and trust in me. I’m loading myself up in a way that is bound to backfire on me, but I’m so gunned to show my ability to run and manage things that I scarcely care. Besides, for the first time ever, I am at last in a relationship that will allow me the freedom to explore something other than being pissed off about my crappy relationship.

Of course Howard is traveling this week for the first time since we’ve been together, and it’s the worst possible week to travel. But even that does not dampen me. I am an employee of this great place, and I might be done losing weight at last.

You’d think that would be a powerful pair of accomplishments, and if I were normal or further away from the Insanity Continuum, you’d be right. But alas, it’s still me, and I can find the lead nickel in a pot of gold.

So, this morning as I was in the bathroom, letting out yet another batch of extra coffee, I caught a good site of myself in the mirror. I was wearing my size 6 pants that are not (embarrassingly) tight, and my size small blouse, that hung on me in a most flattering way. I gave myself the Profile Check, and had to admit that the Octopus was behaving—a marvel, considering that I’m on Day 29 of my cycle. My period is delayed because of my Psycho Workout Schedule, but it’s clearly coming; one look at my face will confirm this. When the Swallows return to my Capistrano face, I can see the last remains of the Belly Creep. But no, today it was fine. Not flat or concave, as I’d prefer, but definitely not protruding, and certainly not an obvious problem area.

Which made me wonder: maybe I’m done losing weight. Howard is not much help in this area. When I ask him how I look, he makes all sorts of yummy noises and declares me perfect. Well, thank you, and the blushing bride in me just gave my fiancé about a thousand points. But the WW buddy stirs in frustration. I still show some obvious Areas of Improvement when I’m nekkid, but I look pretty normal when I’m dressed. How much is left? What’s my final figure? When will I hit true maintenance?

My loss is better than last month’s (at 6 pounds, vs. 4.75), but clearly I’m near the end. And it’s much harder to under-nourish myself when I’m working out, so I expect to keep up this pace, or slower, until the end (149? 145?). My body demands food, and more of it. I’m glad for it; after all, I don’t think I ever really believed that I could keep my previous food count up forever and expect to stay down below the Fat Zone. So, I’m okay to keep the loss slow and the shape/fitness coming. But when is it over? (142?)

I’m frightened to stop losing, because I don’t know how to maintain. Maria the Spectacular mentioned this in an early meeting, saying that WW members are good at losing, and good at gaining—sometimes really good. But we aren’t so good at staying the same. Apart from the high school/college years, my weight has swung like a trapeze artist bungee jumping off of Mount McKinley. I have no success at maintaining, and so it terrifies me to face the fact that I’ll soon stop losing and will have to start ‘staying’.

And of course I wonder if I’m still losing now because I want to hit artificial goals. At 154.0 this morning, I’m down 97.0 pounds from the start. Do I want to go below 151.0, just so I can have lost 100 pounds? Do I need to go to 149.0 so I can drop the big bar on the balance scale? Must I hit 145 because that’s the low-medium range for my height & weight and I want to be comfortably in the middle of normal? Or am I aiming for 142 because that’s the weight I was all through high school and college, and everyone told me at the start of this that I’d never see that number again? And of course these all ask yet another question, that of maintaining it. If I did hit these numbers, could I keep myself there? I don’t know, and I’m afraid to see. Because what if I can’t….

In anticipation of the inevitable Finish Line, I’ve tried to think up new goals that will keep me motivated to stay the same, but I couldn’t think of anything. It feels like a contradiction, to have goals around remaining motionless. And the program loses much of its allure when the ‘final’ outcome is to show no progress at all. The zero-sum is the progress, and the goal-seeking missile in my brain explodes in frustration every time I think of it.

Then I realized that I was trying to build weight loss goals when there would be no more weight to lose. I don’t need to cut my weight down; I need to use it to build the rest of myself up. I need new goals-ones that use my new body as the base and the backdrop for those new tasks. I need things less life-changing and more lifestyle-growing.

So I tried again, and this time I got some things to grab: building up my lean body weight (adding muscle). Running a full 5k without stopping. Squatting my weight. Doing 12 pull-ups without a spotter. Pretty awesome stuff—hard things, all, and most of them I’ve never done before. Just what I needed.

Maybe eventually I won’t even have to think about the weight loss (maintain) piece, except to remember that I eat a certain way, and no other. Perhaps I can think of my body and my thinness as a given to be protected, but not a thing to be feared.

Maybe I can use my success at weight loss to spur other, harder goals for myself. Things like moving into a Director’s role at work, or maybe eventually a VP spot. Or to publish my writing for money, and know that I’d be okay with a book signing, because I don’t have to hide my ‘writer’s spread’ figure. Perhaps it’s starting and finishing the advanced degree that I’ve been salivating to do since the 90s. Or, in that case, a better goal would be to decide on what that degree will be, since I can’t ever decide.

It’s time to let go of the “thinning shears” and move on to the scythe. I already know how to lose weight, and now that I’ve applied my weight loss passion to exercise, I will run off the last pounds with ease-no matter how many (or how few!) remain.

See? Lots of things to do.

This next phase of “the project” requires a shift just as big as the one at the beginning of my weight loss--the one where I decided that I couldn’t label Pop Tarts as a fruit anymore, or consider peanut butter sandwich cookies a natural source of protein. I’ve learned a lot about myself and my life since then. Here’s hoping I can generalize some of those skills to lifestyle and self-improvement. Maybe the Fat Lady can go on vacation for good, and I won’t even notice if she doesn’t write. I won’t miss her, and anyway, I’m the writer now.

A the S(lim, but probably a few more to go)