Bo-Bo Knows The End (Shred Day 30)

Done! Finished! The End! Woot! Woot!

And though taking my measurements made me feel more like a lumpy sofa than a triumphant athlete, here are my fitness numbers after 30 days of shredding:

• Weight: Down 3.4 pounds
• Bicep: Down 1 inch
• Thigh: Down 1/2 inch
• Hips: Down 1.5 inches
• Breast: No change (My B-cup girls are grateful for the net zero here.)
• Waist: Down 1 inch*

I look at these numbers--by all measures, a success--and I think every number here should be bigger, much bigger. And yet, I've lost 34 pounds since the start of the summer--that's like rubbing out a whole leg, only the weight loss is more evenly distributed. It's only right that my weight loss should slow to a pound-a-week trickle (though the foot-stomping three-year-old in me is pouting--are we there yet?)

Getting fit's a hairy mind trip, isn't it?

I remind myself that my go-to pants were in storage a month ago, my clinging shirts no longer have a spare tire to cling to, I can take the groceries up the stairs without getting winded, my mood is better in general, and--perhaps most importantly--I believe there's a healthy fit body waiting for me at the end of this journey. And maybe even more importantly than even that last one, I also recognize that getting to that healthy body is the end of the first leg of a lifetime journey, not an end in itself. For now, though, I'm choosing to be psyched to report that on this Halloween Day, I'm dressed as a slightly more shredded version of myself.

Werewolves are sooo overrated.

* Some of you may be wondering why my waist measurement increased an inch in the last week. I did have a frozen yogurt, but I suspect it has more to do with forcing my sleepy husband to get up and help measure me before 8 a.m. on a Saturday. First he tried to measure me from a prone position. Then he tried to, keeping his eyes closed against the light, measure me half-heartedly. When I pointed out that I was getting measurements at or in excess of my readings at the start of the month, he measured again:

Me: If you go all tourniquet, you're not doing me any favors.
Him (grinning): I know where my bread is buttered.
Me (laughing): Just do it right!
Him (getting up like the sleeping bear he is): Your name is mud.

So the results may be a bit hairy, but fitting into old clothes is real. And the subjective truth is this. I feel stronger. I feel amazing, actually. I feel ready to take on those last (sigh) 27 pounds. Maybe next month I'll be ready to scratch the sigh.