Back in July, not long after the break-up, I hit the second-highest weight I have ever achieved. If memory serves, I topped out at 187 pounds, about 5 pounds below my absolute peak of 193 which I "achieved" six or seven years ago.
After dealing with the shock of the latter realization, I managed to get myself, briefly, down to about 160, then slowly crept back up. During most of time with Laura I more or less accepted that 170 was the "new normal"
Anyway, following the break-up I simply wasn't very hungry, so didn't eat much (though, yes, I was self-medicating myself with "liquid bread" at an alarming rate). After a month or so, I realized I had lost nearly 10 pounds and started to make a conscious effort towards my goal of floating between 140 and 145.
This morning, I broke through what was becoming an important psychological barrier. 159, boys and girls, 159! Holy moly - that's nearly 30 pounds in 4 months. I can see ribs and even a hint of abs for the first time in quite a few years. If this goes on, I fear I may start posting pictures of them (but I'll put them behind a cut, to spare those among you who have no interest in such narcissistic diplays of gratuitous flesh).
(Oh, and the "secret"? I've been eating less - and better - and exercising (a little) more. And those who say a daily weigh-in probably have a good point; it allows one to notice fairly quickly if one has been over-indulging.)
That's it. Just wanted to share my self-satisfaction rather than angst for once.