I Hate Plateaus

If you're wondering whether I've been keeping up with the whole healthy-living lifestyle, the answer is yes, I have. Which is damn frustrating, because I've actually been amping up my workouts for the past couple of weeks, and guess how much weight I've lost?

Pretty much none.

I've lost some body fat, I think, at least based on my bathroom scale (which I love, by the way -- the digital body-fat reader isn't for everybody, but it helps me keep things in perspective; I may be within the correct height/weight ratio, aka BMI, but I'd like to cut the fat down by quite a bit). But the scale refuses to budge, and it's driving me a little bit crazy. I tend to get obsessive about these things, and when I've been working out six days a week, and my workouts finish with me dripping sweat, you'd think I'd have more to show for it.

Of course, I know I could be putting on muscle mass, which weighs more than fat. And really, it's not so much the weight that bothers me (it's not!). It's the fact that I still can't fit into my favorite pair of jeans. It's the size that bothers me.

The real kicker is that I know what I need to do. Lately (over the past couple of weeks, actually) I've been getting ravenously hungry at night. I know why -- it's because I'm burning more calories, and my body, which would like to maintain its weight, is pushing me to eat to regain those lost calories. And I, mindlessly, agree. It's not like I'm binging late-night on fried food and doughnuts (god, I wish sometimes ...), but even though it's healthy, it's still keeping these last stubborn five to ten pounds on my ass and thighs and belly.

Frustrating.

So ... no more late-night snacks. Dinner, and that's it. I find that a cup of tea and a glass of wine helps, but not lately; lately, it's food or nothing. But I can deal with a little before-bed tummy growling for a higher cause.

And on the bright side: I've lost more than fifteen pounds to date and -- most important -- kept it off. No signs of a fat relapse. If I have my say, I'll never see 130 pounds on the scale ever again. Unless I become pregnant. But what I really want to see on the scale, repeatedly and forever, is 115 pounds or thereabouts. Maybe even 110 if it's healthy for me to get there. Is that so much to ask for my 5'4 frame? Apparently so. Apparently, 120ish is where it's at for me right now. But not for long ... this I promise myself, which is more effective than promising you, elusive reader.

And to close, a random thought: Morning glories are kind of weird, don't you think? I do. I see them every morning as I'm leaving for work, and I think, "pretty flowers." They are pretty -- white with hints of pink and purple sometimes -- and then when I get home, I forget we even have flowers in the yard at all. They vanish, only to reappear again the next morning. I've never sat to watch and see at what point they decide to hide. I just think they're weird. But pretty. But weird.

But still pretty.