Twice, I have successfully lost enough weight to approach the 300-pound mark — once I got as low as 304, and again down to 309 — but have never yet crossed it. I don’t remember crossing that mark the first time, either — as I ballooned past it sometime in the late 1990’s. I never cared to weigh or measure back then, only kept buying larger and larger sizes of mustard-yellow tentwear at the local Lane Bryant.

I hate to put too much weight in pop psychology (therapist though I may be), but I must admit that there’s something about that imaginary century line that seems to hold power over me. I’ve felt its spectre hovering around me in the past few weeks as I achieve one goal after another and zero in on that zero-zero point. And, I’m feeling good in general — but note that I did take a dangerous, exploratory mission into the world of energy bars last week, and accomplished very little exercise in the month of July.

This morning, when I did my mid-week progress weigh in, I was startled to find myself at the “300 plus single digit” gate. One thing is certain: if there was ever a time to stare down the troll that guards my 300-pound bridge, it is now.

Call it self-convincing, but I think it’s time to make out a list of reasons why I will be able to, with neither overt trauma nor ostentatious fanfare, cross the 300-pound mark as quietly as I crossed the 320-pound mark, or the 310-pound mark.

Why it will be different this time:

• I’ve completed 4 years of intense and amazing psychotherapy, during which I dismantled my ineffective defenses, hacked away at the roots of my Binge Eating Disorder, and placed the shards of it under such a microscopic scrutiny that even Madame Curie would approve. I am calm now, and solid in myself. I can handle both the fear of failure and the discomfort of success without eating myself into a Cadbury Egg Stupor.

• Previously, I have attacked new health regimens with the ire and focus of a bull on a red cape. This time, I have been calm, permissive, and utterly satisfied with a slow and steady progress. I simply try my best to make good choices most of the time. There is no reason to believe that I will burn out on this new lifestyle any time soon, and certainly not just because I achieved my original goal, no matter how unattainable I believed it would be at the time.

• I am learning more about my particular body, and am better able to care for and nourish it than ever before. Case in point: chocolate is not only a sweet which must be enjoyed in moderation, it also seems to be the catalyst for my most debilitating migraines. The fact that I have the capability to turn down chocolate because of what it might do to me is a personal strength that I’m still getting used to. Similarly, I now know that other simple things — such as avoiding potatoes — will keep my blood pressure more level and provide me with better energy reserves. Rice, on the other hand, seems to have very little effect on my own personal blood sugar. This kind of self-awareness and understanding will certainly serve me well past 300.

• And while we’re at it, let’s talk about that boyfriend stuff. Yes, we’ve faced the realities of our respective ambitions and futures and broken up. Yes, it’s difficult to pick up those pieces and move on. Yes, I miss him (and the magic of committed relationship) every single day. But, among the gifts I received from that relationship is the absolute knowledge that I am not unloveable as I had always feared. In fact, I’m both loveable and capable of love. I know that loving yourself is supposed to be enough. Unfortunately for me, it only took me so far. And, certainly, I hope to have the opportunity to test out this theory again before I die, but experiencing it just this once has put to rest some of my most ravenous fears and insatiable needs.

I am okay, and I will continue to be okay even when I begin inhabiting a body that is completely and utterly new to me.

1. Take a moment to smile with me, since I subconsciously typed 3000 before correcting my error. [↩]

Grateful for: living in a body that knows how to heal itself.

Starting weight: 354.6 pounds
Last week: 312.0
This week: 311.4
Change this week: -0.6
Total change: -43.2
Next milestone: 45 pounds gone

This week’s mantra: put the so-called energy bar down and back away from the table.

It’s confusing for my viewers because really, I’m not thin. I’m just thinnER. Still, when I realized a few weeks ago that I had achieved my 40-pound and 10% goal, I knew it was time for people to start noticing. And, notice they have — to the tune of 8 people just last week.

Last night, my ex and I were sorting through some old photos and came across one that was taken when he came home with me last Christmas. We both gasped in shock. Somehow, me weighing 360-some-odd pounds had been lost on us, back then. There we sat in the photo, smiling at the camera, and I at well over twice his size. I was a cascade of chins and dimples and folds.

No, I’m not implying that I look dramatically better today, but the difference was so noticeable that we talked about it, off and on, for the bulk of the evening. He was particularly baffled. He just couldn’t figure out how all of that extra weight had gone unnoticed by him. (I knew why — and it’s the reason that I stayed with him so long.)

All of this is to say that people are starting to notice.

Grateful for: always having room for improvement.

Starting weight: 354.6 pounds
Last week: 313.6
This week: 312.0
Change this week: -1.6
Total change: -42.6
Next milestone: 45 pounds gone

This week’s mantra: Losing weight is nice, sure, but let’s focus on fitness.

The first is a buzzing halo of “hmmm” circling around a story I heard on the local news this morning. Apparently, a man was found dead in a parked car, on which sat a parking ticket. Investigators think he may have been dead when the ticket was issued.

The second thought is a general sense of gratitude and bewilderment about my current frame of mind. I have been thinking, in recent days, about how emotionally effortless this round of dieting has been, and wondering what makes it different from all of my other attempts. I have allowed myself to make 80% “perfect” choices and 20% “other.” Honestly, even my “other” choices are not nearly as wild as they once were; we’re not talking chocolate eclairs and ice cream sundaes so much as whole-wheat sourdough french toast that I make for company, or mango with sticky rice (my ultimate weakness). I’m hesitant to say this out loud, but I have — even on weeks where I didn’t focus too much on it — been able to consistently lose weight. It’s slow going, yes, but it’s consistent.

Now it occurs to me that perhaps these two thoughts are connected. I am beginning to think that all of the years I spent in working on myself — intensive psychotherapy to hunt out my binge-eating issues, journaling, painting, reading, trial and error, self-talk — is beginning to pay off. I simply don’t need food as I once did; although I need it physically, I don’t need it emotionally.

It’s still difficult for me to make time and energy for cooking healthy food. Honestly, I am tired of doing dishes and each time I pack my lunch in tupperwares, my dish duty quadruples. (Oh, for a dishwasher!) I struggle to find time and energy for official exercise, but I do make an effort to take the stairs and park at the far end of the lot. All in all, though, I am sleeping well and setting good boundaries and taking time to be careful with myself.

I guess the connection between my two morning thoughts is this: for years and years, I focused on the symptoms, rather than the causes, of my internal and external distress. In essence, I gave myself punitive parking tickets in the midst of a life-and-death crisis. Years later, all of that awful, slogging, introspective work seems to finally be bearing fruit.

We’ll see how this all holds up as I approach the 300-pound mark — a mark that I have never been able to cross in my adult life. But, for today, I am calm and at peace. It’s a nice feeling.

Grateful for: having my internet access back this week.

Starting weight: 354.6 pounds
Last week: 315.0
This week: 313.6
Change this week: -1.4
Total change: -41.0
Next milestone: 45 pounds gone

This week’s mantra: As silly as it sounds, this week I want to focus on FITNESS and FLOSSING. (Of course, this morning I had a little waxing-at-home accident which also means that the words ALOE VERA and RAW SKIN IN AWFUL PLACES are going to figure in prominently, too.)

Grateful for: Eggs. I dunno, I just feel affectionate toward their protein-y, yellow-y, jiggle-y goodness today.

Starting weight: 354.6 pounds
Last week: 325.8
This week: 315.0
Change this week: -10.8
Total change: -39.6
Next milestone: 40 pounds gone (just 0.4 pounds away!)

This week’s mantra: 10 pounds? Man, that was a big cyst.

So, you can imagine my surprise when, on Saturday — a mere halfway through his visit — I stepped up and found that I had gained over 8 pounds. I was all the way up to 325.8, in spite of being “mostly” on track. Ouch.

The double (quintuple) ouch came Sunday afternoon, about 2 hours after I took him to the airport and said goodbye. My ex-boyfriend was over and we had a nice healthy salad lunch at our favorite cafe. Then, as we settled onto the couch, I said, “Man, my tummy hurts. Maybe I ate too much salad.”

Well, the pain gradually worsened until I doubled over, held my stomach, groaned, and said, “Maybe food poisoning?”

Of course, I hadn’t eaten tomatoes or jalapenos at lunch, and the pain just kept coming. I broke into a sweat that quickly soaked through my hair and clothing and made it look like I had just sprung, fully-clothed, from a refreshing shower. It didn’t take long for me to soak the couch and render it unusable, while I writhed and moaned in pain. The ex, while sweet and very helpful, was obviously freaking out. I’d seen the look before — the “trying to be supportive but scared out of his mind” look. The last time I saw it, I was already on my way to the emergency room.

I knew exactly what was happening — and going to the emergency room wouldn’t help. It was an ovarian cyst rupture, and there was nothing to do but wait it out. Ex-boyfriend stood over me, fanning me with a hand towel and alternating telling me funny stories with giving words of gentle support.

Then, as I knew from previous experience that it would, the pain suddenly subsided. It took about 20 minutes to go from a 10 down to a 7, which is apparently the pain level where I still hurt, but not so much that I’m incapable of crying. The tears came, then, in a great flood, adding to the soaked-through sweat of everything. It was over.

Now, two days later, my weight is back down under 320. I can’t help but attribute the killer gain and loss to whatever monster ovarian cyst chose to squat in my innards and then, finding the accommodations inadequate, blew out of there like a tumorous Hindenberg. We’ll see how this week’s weigh-in goes, but I have a feeling that all will be right with the world again.

Celebrating: No trip to the emergency room this week.

Grateful for: The sheer luck of not being alone when my innards erupted.

Starting weight: 354.6 pounds
Last week: 318.2
This week: 325.8
Change this week: +8.6
Total change: -28.8
Next milestone: complete recovery from medical trauma.

This week’s mantra: Next time, bring more towels.

Another thing I’m learning is that I must, must, must have protein at my first meal. I can couple that protein with healthy carb/fiber, but full-on grains just kill me in the morning. I don’t just mean bagels or toast — even a healthy breakfast of steel-cut oats can send me crashing to the bottom of Carb Canyon and then messes with my digestion. So, for breakfast I try to pair a lean protein with fruit or vegetables and it’s enough fuel to see me through to lunch.

Weight Watchers mornings present a special challenge. My meeting is late enough to allow me to sleep in. (Blessed, blessed sleep.) With a 10:00 start time, I don’t get so ravenously hungry or thirsty before weigh-in that I feel I’ve done real damage. Then, though, the most reasonable time for me to do laundry is after the meeting. More than once, to fuel up for the laundromat, I’ve thought — “I’ll just grab some fast food. Just this once can’t hurt.”

But, it’s not just the calorie of the thing. It’s the soft-serve, hot-and-cold-running crap that awaits me at the fast food drive-thru. It’s the fake cheeses, fake eggs, and fake meats. Generally, I’m pretty good about packing lunches and snacks. But, when I’m on the run and have a hunger emergency, I sometimes need to find fast food in other places than the drive-thru. Sue me.

Here’s one solution that I’ve found:

Most grocery store produce sections will have sliced-up melons and fruits for sale in cups. It’s way too pricey for every-day use, but it works in this particular pinch. Then, I’ve found that many deli-meat manufacturers are selling single-serve pouches of meats. These pouches contain 70 or 90 calories of turkey. Yes, deli meats are notoriously high in sodium, but that salty flavor makes the breakfast feel like a melon and prosciutto plate. Since I first tasted that delicious combination in Paris, I always feel like it is super fancy and even the cheap grocery-store knockoff version satisfies me on an emotional and mental level in addition to the physical.

I swing by the store’s salad bar and smuggle a fork and a napkin and, if I need to, grab a bottle of water at the register. Voila! For less than the cost of a drive-thru meal, I’ve satisfied my need for protein/fiber combo and avoided that dangerous, soul-sucking hunger.

What do you do when you’re on the run? Help me continue to Ditch the Drive-thru!

Grateful for: my 2 wonderful dogs, so that I don’t wake up alone during a week like this.

Starting weight: 354.6 pounds
Last week: 318.2
This week: 317.2
Change this week: -1.0
Total change: -37.4
Next milestone: 40 pounds gone

This week’s mantra: Every muscle I stretch (both figurative and literal) makes me stronger.