Hus-Bo has lost 95 pounds. He weighs 4 pounds more than me.
I've got to say it. I am jealous. My husband is now 200 pounds of lean running machine. His BMI is 24.7 - although I don't know how that can be since he has no perceptible fat left. He ran today for 2 hours. Uphill. Geez.
I don't want to be my husband. I like my curves. I like feminine softness. I also like toned, defined, soft, feminine curves. That's my goal. I have to say that is at least 35 pounds away from where I am. I'll get there.
But it is SO difficult not to despair when the one closest to you devotes his soul to losing weight and achieves it in short order. Apparently I lack that type of dedication. Mine is more of an everyday, plod along, do my best slowly. Tortoise marries Hare. But it actually hurts to see him blaze by me while - despite my success so far - I look fatter because of his proximity.
He has supported me 100%. He lets me know in lots of ways. But in order for me to reach my own personal success goal in a shorter amount of time I would have to keep up a ridiculous schedule - and I just can't manage (and do not desire to) that and everything else I must do. So, I will stick here, keep moving slowly toward my goal and be proud of my handsome, sleek, super-fast husband. But Diet gods, if you're paying ANY attention, could you PLEASE send me a little extra kick in the loss department? Thanks mucho.
Peace and joy, folks ~ Shannon