Alright. Everyone reaches this point while getting in shape.
I’m seeing some progress.
I’m about to embark on my first tropical vacation in what feels like ages. Being wintertime, I had to try on a ton of summer clothes to make sure I could still fit in them. And, believe me, when I got back from Colorado back in mid-January, there would have been some serious doubts as to whether they would have fit. Back in January, I was squeezing into all of my pants – a size 34. Shit, I was probably pushing the need for size 36 pants… but there was no fucking way I was going to allow myself to get bigger pants. Thankfully, last night, I was fitting comfortably in them all… even requiring a belt for some.
I’m seeing some toning in my chest… I think. I’ve previously joked with Drea about having moobs. They were only A cups. But, still. I’m seeing more of a progression to actual pecs. Again, I think. It could be my imagination working overtime because my muscles feel tighter in general. So, I’m seeing some progress, and I was even feeling pretty good about it… and then, I stepped on the scale.
The scale is the enemy.
I’ve been watching what I eat. (mostly.) I’ve been working out regularly. But, the scale is not moving as fast as I would like.
I’ve stalled a bit the last couple of weeks. Admittedly, there have been some counter-productive events: Superbowl, and Valentines Day, a weekend away with the guys… and now an all inclusive vacation to Mexico. Holy shit am I going to have to work extra hard the next two months in order to hit my weight goals!
So, my attitude towards my progress thus far is… meh. But, I’m firmly fixated on my goals. And, I’m going to continue striving to hit them.
Scale be damned!