I was up a pound and a half this morning. This was expected, but to be honest I expected a lot worse, as the last time I weighed in I was down 2 pounds. All this vagueness aside, I’m a half-pound over my “target” or “ceiling” weight. That’s fantastic for the week I’ve had! I’ll easily have myself back below my ceiling weight next week. I use those words interchangeably because for me, it’s the same thing. I aim to be below that number, so I call it my target. I aim to not go over it and when I do I adjust my behaviors, so I call it my ceiling weight.
What this reinforces for me is that my current target weight, while higher than BMI would allow, and higher than my willowy days of 5 years ago, is the right target weight for me – it’s the weight I can easily maintain with the diet and exercise regimen that I’ve settled into. I’m solid, but I’m not fat. I’ve always thought that for me, finding my target weight would be finding the highest possible weight I could emotionally tolerate while maintaining my healthy eating and exercise habits – the weight that allows me to enjoy my life without hating my body.
I think every day that I’d be happier if I just lost 10 pounds, and since I’ve always, always, always had that as a refrain in my head no matter what my weight, I can disregard it as a culturally-imposed fallacy and stick with what I’ve got – a healthy weight coupled with healthy habits.
Today: Walked to work, about to walk home. It’s 20-25 minutes each way. Brought my lunch, ate only what I brought. So far I’ve had about 1000 calories. Tonight for dinner is chicken soup from scratch that my darling husband whipped up this afternoon and is simmering happily away on the stove for when I get home.