I know some people strive for the 185-pound mark, and I give major kudos to the people who blasted the fat down to the 185 range with starting numbers in the high 200′s and into the 300′s.
But me? I started my weight loss journey at 185 pounds. And it was my weight gain threshold. It was the trigger point where something clicked and I decided I would NOT allow myself to gain another pound. I was sick and tired of myself. Namely, the unhealthy habits that were making me fat.
But Look! I found the official “before” pictures that I snapped to kick off my fitness journey.
Back here in 2006 I didn’t quite qualify as the poster child for classic obesity, but I was well on my way. What you can’t see in this picture is the excessive amount of back fat and inner thigh flab I was sporting. Yet this is more about how I FELT.
I was miserable. My 185 pounds (and climbing) felt tired, sluggish, out of breath, uncontrollably greedy, and unhappy. I had to do something.
After I took these pictures I kicked it down to a low of 145 pounds, but I got knocked up again with a fourth child (thank you, dear husband, for our Greedy Baby) and had to start all over with weight loss.
I have no idea how much I weigh right now. Last year I gave my scale a battery lobotomy because I was tired of being it’s slave. I still have some minor fat slab remnants on my stomach (birthing 4 kids will do that to you), and so the fat battle continues. But my newest pants are a size 4. That’s a better indicator of my weight loss than some stupid scale.
A lot of people talk “healthy at any size”, but I say it’s a bunch of crap. My former 185-pounds made me feel like marinated seagull sludge smathered on toasted wombat chips. What’s so healthy about that?