Today my father would have been 73 years old. (May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.) My mother is currently the age he was when he died: 69. At just 33 years old myself, I feel far too young to have one parent dead and the other in memory care. And, to be honest, it’s a pretty big kick in the pants about my own mortality. 

True, I’m adopted, so I don’t have their genes. And my struggles are different from theirs. Neither of my parents ever struggled with their weight, and I obviously do– that’s how I got in the situation I’m presently in. Likewise, I am not an alcoholic, which is what largely caused both of their current situations. But whether it’s smoking and drinking yourself to death or dying from complications related to obesity, an early, preventable death is a tragic thing. I don’t want to end up like my parents. 

People in the weight loss/general self-help world often talk about how, to stick to your goals, you have to "remember your why." And I’ll be honest: day to day, I’m very motivated by things like wanting to look great in a swimsuit, turning heads with a dramatic weight loss, and getting compliments on how much my body has changed. But days like today remind me that I’m really doing this for a much bigger purpose: I’m doing it to save my life. They don’t call it morbid obesity for nothing. If I don’t lose this weight, I could end up dying even younger than my dad did, or be permanently, preventably disabled by my weight the way my mom is by years of drinking. 

I don’t want that. I want to be in the best possible position to face menopause, middle age, and beyond with strength and grace. I want to live seventy, seventy-five, or maybe even eighty years if God chooses to give me that many. And when the inevitable bell tolls for me, I want to be living my absolute best old-lady life– not miserable, in pain, and regretting the fact that I didn’t lose weight or get healthy or change my life sooner. I see my future self as retired, going on cruises, seeing the world, having even less of a filter than I do now, maybe playing pickleball or going to aerobics classes or power walking around the retirement community with my old-lady besties, and genuinely enjoying my final chapters. That’s what I’m going for. If I have kids one day, I want to be there for them-- because losing a parent at 30 is not something I would wish on anyone, especially not my hypothetical kids-- and even if I never have children, I want to be there for me. 

And on days when imagining myself in a swimsuit at my goal weight isn’t enough to keep me from eating a whole pizza or scarfing down a pint of Haagen-Dazs, I hope imagining myself as a happy, healthy octogenarian will be enough. (Not to mention, I also plan to be a complete menace.) 

Today is also an important day because of the scale. For the first time since probably 2019 or 2020, I am in the 310s! And weighing in at 318 is especially significant because my starting weight was 388, so I am now officially 70 whole pounds down. I probably could have been there sooner, but I sort of fell off the wagon in December and January and have been fighting to lose that weight, but I’ve done it, and I am now under 320. I could not be prouder of myself, and I’m excited to keep making progress. I can’t even imagine what being in the 200s again will feel like, and at this rate, it’s probably only a few months off. 

Not much else to report. The furnace is continuing to behave itself, which is good. I am having an easier and easier time making it to 3 PM every day without eating, because I am getting back into the fasting routine (after the aforementioned six weeks or so off the wagon), and it really does get easier with time fairly quickly. Consuming plenty of protein helps a lot, as does staying busy– or, if all else fails, taking a nap to make your fasting window go by faster. Are any of you intermittent fasters, too? If so, what’s your secret for pushing through your fast to get to that window? 

I hope you’re all having a good day, and that you’re crushing your goals, too.

Until next time,

Simone