I feel like 9-year-old me on a long road trip, whining, "Are we there yet?" over and over. My sister and I made a song of it to the tune of Frere Jacques..."Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Please say yes! Please say yes! We're so very bored now, we just want to be there, are we there? Are we there?" It annoyed the hell out our parents, and now I'm annoying myself by singing it in my head.
Seriously, though...are we there yet?!
I've been on Weight Watchers since August of 2012. I've lost 94 pounds now, but I've been hovering around 94 pounds lost for what seems like forever. It doesn't feel like I've made any progress in months, and this journey is taking longer than Lord of the Rings (The books! not even the movies!).
It's been 17, almost 18 months of tracking every bite of food I eat, of weighing out my grated cheese and measuring my glasses of milk. I still, even after nearly 18 months, don't trust myself to pour an accurate 8 ounce drink, or eat one real ounce of potato chips.
That's exhausting.
And from one day to the next, I very rarely feel like I've made any difference. For every unexpected and awesome moment when I pass the mirror and think, "Wow, nice cheekbones!", there's another moment where I put my hand on my hip and think, "Oh man, I thought I had less pudge yesterday..."
Two steps forward, one step back, right?
But still, I keep reminding myself that I HAVE made progress. 94 pounds is still 94 pounds. Just taking a look back through photos from the past 18 months is enough to satisfy me that I am making myself healthier, one day at a time, even if it doesn't always feel like it.
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