Over three long months, I struggled to lose eight pounds with many ups and downs that didn’t make sense. Then one week, for no clear reason, I gained four back. And now I’m up six, so ultimately, since July, I’ve lost exactly two pounds.
I don’t even know what to do. I remember a couple months ago trying on my favorite jeans and they were too tight. But two weeks later, I could get them on. Now? I doubt I could get them over my hips.
And there’s no reason for it. I’m eating right. I’m exercising. I haven’t been updating this blog, but I’ve been tracking.
I tried eating less. I tried eating more. Nothing works.
I had a physical last week and the doctor mentioned something about my heart rate being very good. So I strapped on my heart rate monitor at home and took my resting heart rate. It’s at the high end of “excellent” and very, very, very close to “athlete.” My blood pressure is great. Everything is great.
Except I’m fat and my body seems to be telling me there’s nothing I can do about it.
Last night, I pulled out the tub that has all the clothes in it that are too big or too small. I had to pull out the jeans I bought the year I hit my highest ever weight, and even they were almost snug on me. Well, one pair was a bit tight. The other pair were actually a bit loose, but they did fit. And I wore them last night to the mall.
My fat pants.
The pants I was ready to give away because they were so huge on me not that long ago.
And I still don’t know why.
I had blood drawn Saturday and they’re running a thyroid panel. If that comes back OK, then I don’t know what I’m going to do.