Well, That's An Improvement. 60 Pounds?

I've lost 60 pounds.

Yeah. 60. Stick that in yer pipe and smoke it.

My extra-large yoga pants I bought in late September are, dare I say it, becoming too big. I'm looking, it seems, like just plain large. And that's fine by me.

Weird, weird, weird, but hey. I mean, I busted my fucking ASS to lose 40 pounds -- cycling for hours every week, all that shit. These days I'm not doing any cardio -- ANY -- and I'm still shedding?

WHAT THE HELL WAS I KILLING MYSELF FOR THEN?

Ahem.

Heh. I'll still do it, too. I'm looking forward to having the time to go to the gym and stuff. Then I can start having a burger now and then. :D

I will say, tho, that the physiotherapy rehab exercises I've been assigned have been starting to tone some areas, like belly flab, I've NEVER been able to do. So...

Funny how life kind of acts to interfere yet you still get to where you were going. I think the blowing out of my back is going to result in me losing the remainder of my weight in a better, more healthy way, and that my body will be in a better place than it's ever been, both because of the reduced stress on my skeleton and because of learning how to retrain my body's kinetics.

How awesome is that?

Pretty fucking awesome. I've been doing my rehab exercises more regularly now, hence showing up late to work, because there's 45 minutes of weight-resistant poses at home (mostly hijacked from Pilates-type routines) and I HURT FIERCELY after them.

So, yeah, I haven't been doing cardio, but I'm certainly doing lots of stretching and my rehab. It's like doing yoga for three to four hours a week, I guess. Is good.

And I've lost 60 pounds. I'm gonna go wander off grinning now.

FYI? My goal to lose this year was 75 pounds. I told myself I'd be happy with 50, but was secretly ready to make my peace with 40. To get to 60 is kind of like reaching within 20 feet of the top of Everest. It's semantics, as far as I'm concerned, and I'm fucking pleased.