I hate this number.
During the 15 year awkward period I had (ages 8-22), I didn’t pick up on the transition from getting larger clothes because I was growing taller to getting larger clothes because I was growing fatter.
When I was 20, I hit my top weight of 164. I don’t remember how I felt specifically. I don’t really remember how I looked. This really was just more of the same for me in a decade and a half long stint of being awkward and undateable. You’d think the giganto boobs would have helped – but apparently giganto boobs are only good when they look like Pam Anderson (circa Baywatch), not Eddie Murphy (circa The Klumps).
I lost weight accidentally, I’d started eating less because I lived with my mom and didn’t want to eat all her groceries. Once I started hearing comments I stepped on the scale and was shocked to see I’d lost, oh, say ten pounds without really trying. I mean it was the same “oh I’m trying to lose weight” mantra that I always said, but this time it was actually happening.
I lost weight through using free weights. No gym, no running. Just a DAILY freaking 10 rep routine with the weights.
I lost 20 pounds in a very moderate, healthy way. Then Scout and I broke up and I lost 10 pounds on what I call the coffee/nicotine diet. By the time I graduated college I was down to 134, dressing and clothes shopping was a whole lot of fun, but I admit I cringed when people asked me how I’d lost it – I didn’t want people thinking the way I lost that last 10 pounds was GOOD idea.
I’ve gone back up the scale twice since then, and was back down to 139.5 for a brief shining moment on the scale 15 months ago. Then we went to Europe, then I got pregnant, then I weighed 183.7. But I got a cute kid out of it, so that’s all worth it.
Losing the first 19 pounds was easy, 7 pounds of kid, 5 pounds of kid nurturing stuff, 7 pounds of no sleep and stress. Then it all came to a screeching halt with the move and the Culvers Frozen Custard within walking distance and all the company paid for meals for 30 days. Two weeks on real (ish) food again and I’m at my nemisis number.
It’s time to change. I don’t want to be too self conscious to hang out with my kid at the pool, I don’t want him to be embarrassed of me…
Oh wait, while those reasons are true, let’s just be honest.
I wanna be a MILF.