Chronicles of a Late Bloomer

I know from experience that it takes around 30-35 pounds before people start to notice that I’ve lost weight. So, it shouldn’t surprise me that several people have commented to me in the past week or so that I look like I have, well, en-small-ened myself a bit. No, it shouldn’t surprise me, but it does.

I guess, in part, it surprises me because the majority of this weight was lost without me even really noticing it. I don’t know how heavy I was at my highest — only that my black pants wouldn’t button, my bras dug where they should not dig, and my joints were as whiney as a 13-year-old brat with a trust fund.

I think it’s safe to estimate that my weight peaked around Christmas, which was the last time my family members saw me. I didn’t work out how to get on a scale that registered anything other than shame until around February. By that time, I was up to 161.2 kilos (yes, I weighed myself in the dialysis unit because it was the only monster scale I could find at the children’s hospital where I work) but now I’m beginning to think that I weighed even more in December.

Since it usually takes 30-35 pounds before people notice a change, I think we can safely assume that I had unwittingly ballooned up to well over 360 pounds. I’m still counting 354 pounds (yeah, 161 kilos) as my “high” but I do think I was higher.

The evidence:

• 2 weeks ago, half of my family came for a visit to Disneyland and, by association, me. My mother (uncharacteristically) noticed that I look “smaller.” Also, I notice that I can comfortably wear my denim jacket again.
  
• My boyfriend, on stumbling across my overall weight loss numbers last week, said, “Well, I had noticed you lost weight but I didn’t want to say anything.” There’s a history as to why I would try to lose weight without sharing so with my significant other… but while I was silently eschewing white bread, white rice, mashed potatoes, and pasta, he silently continued to be the person most intimately acquainted with me and my 161.2+ kilos.
  
• My older sister — blessed with the family’s best metabolism and smallest frame, a head and a half shorter and 200 pounds lighter than I — is visiting this weekend. She, too, commented that I look “thinner.” This means something, coming from my former rival, the only woman I personally know who wore a size-zero wedding dress, and the queen of the restricted compliment.

In fact, I don’t know that any of these people were complimenting — merely registering data: I have not just lost weight. I have lost a noticeable amount of weight.