I knew this was coming. People warned me about it when I first started getting serious about losing weight last year. But it kept not happening, and while I was prepared for it, it seemed like it was going to be something I wasn’t going to have to worry about.
However, I’ve been stuck at the same weight for the last few weeks. I haven’t gained any weight, but that needle on the scale hasn’t been getting any lower.
And I feel okay.
Well, I do feel a little irked, let’s be honest. But it’s not a case of what I’ve been doing not working anymore. It’s been a case of me letting myself enjoy my progress a little too much. Too many trips to Epcot. Too many gatherings where I justify a little splurge with, “Hey, look how much weight I’ve lost, I can be a little bad.” Too many mornings of, “I’m tired, I’ll just walk a little longer tomorrow.”
Now there’s no regret or self-loathing with any of this. Just recognition that these were my decisions, my actions, not some cruel twist dealt to me. And I have just as much control in getting out of this rut as I did getting into it.
The good news is that I haven’t dug myself a hole. I’ve just been in a holding pattern. One that’s easy to break out of. I’m not unhappy with where I’m at, I’m not obsessed with getting thinner. I just think there’s a little more I can do. I’ve had my break. Time to get back at it.