At the halfway point, I'm still maintaining an 11-pound weight loss. I'm clearly short of the 20 pounds I should have shed by now. That's the bad news.
The good news is... I maintained the weight. As strange as that sounds, maintaining a loss hasn't been a historical strong point for me. But over the last 6 - 7 weeks, I discovered the magic to holding a constant weight. And learning that is just as valuable to me now as losing a few extra pounds.
I finally broke down and hired a personal trainer. Only he's free. And he's cute. And he knows how to cook vegetables.
My sweetie was going to go into personal training at one point, and he's always been the best candidate for the job. But I have avoided his help out of embarrassment. Although he doesn't have a single complaint about me, I'm not sure I want him to see me collapse after struggling through a workout.
At 44, he maintains like a 20-year old. And at 36, I'd probably need hospitalization after a set of push-ups. Like 2 push-ups."Honey, if you love me, just give me oxygen.
Oh yeah. And a pepperoni pizza."
But the sincerity of his heart wins the day and I finally requested his services. His loving reply to my request:
Dang."I want my family - me, you, and the boys -
to be fit and live long lives. I love y'all."