Discouragement had started to set in. The last several times I weighed in, my progress had stagnated. I was stuck at the same weight for over a week and a half.
Thanksgiving had been my bane, and I gorged myself for a day and a half on the forbidden carbohydrates. It was the Tuesday afterward before the Metabosticks again detected ketones in my samples. I continued the Induction phase, keeping my net carbs below 20 grams per day, even though this is only recommended for the first two weeks. I took vitamins, and three days a week arose before the sun to ride the stationary bike.
Still, no progress.
I figured I would stop weighing in as regularly and eventually I would get on the scale and its needle would have moved a wee bit counterclockwise. So I stopped getting on the scale. Out of sight, out of mind. I would continue to follow the plan, and as long as I was finding more clothes in my closet that had magically grown to fit me again, I would be happy.
Then it hit.
The end of the semester.
Late nights with the study group.
The perfect justification for cheating.
But I didn't. One of my classmates is on the plan too. We buy salted peanuts and water from the vending machines and keep each other honest. I come home grumpy, eat a sandwhich with low-carb bread and go to bed. I cast aside my aspirations about waking up early to ride the bike. This week, it ain't gonna happen.
Then this morning, while I was brushing my teeth after my daily constitutional, I made the trek over to the guest bathroom. Home of the scale. I stepped on, ready to accuse the blasted thing of having a worn out spring or some other such garbage. I looked down.
I couldn't believe it. Three more pounds gone.
I have officially lost 15% of my goal. I am right on track with my original target date to be at the weight I was my senior year in high school. Yeah, I was still considered overweight then, too, but it's a start. Once I hit that one, my new goal will be another 40 pounds over six months, to get me into the official US government weight range for my height.
But that's a year from now. Right now, I'm looking at my brother's wedding this New Year's Eve. It's only three weeks, 1,300 miles, and eight pounds away.