There are few instances in my life where I actually remember my weight.
In 5th grade we had to do fitness testing and I volunteered to collect the data for the class. This was in part because I liked being the teacher's pet but more for the fact that, even at age 11, I didn't want any of my classmates to know how much I weighed. At that time I weighed 110 pounds (I'm 5' 4" as an adult). I specifically remember this because a girl named Jenny in my class weighed only 55 pounds...exactly half my weight.
In 11th grade I weighed 220 pounds. It was the first time I realized that I weighed more than my dad. In an effort to weigh my dog (who surprise surprise was overweight) my dad picked up the pup and weighed them both then subtracted his weight. I think he weighed just under 200 pounds and I couldn't believe that as a 17 year old girl I weighed more than a grown man.
During my junior year of college I weighed 197 pounds. I worked out like a mad woman, ate plain chicken breasts cooked on a George Forman in the dorm, and lost 40 pounds. I was below 200 pounds for the first time in my life and I felt wonderful. Granted my eating habits were still not what one would consider
normal but I didn't care if what I was doing was unhealthy.
And then I gained, and gained, and gained. The highest number I ever saw on the scale was 276. This was a few months ago and I was appalled that I was about to cross the 280 mark. I made a half-hearted effort at calorie counting and lost only a few pounds.
Last Thursday I weighed in at 272 pounds, which is my "official" starting weight.
110.
220.
197.
276.
272.
These are numbers I will never forget.
