Here's the charts:
Red line: weight in 2018. The blue lines were projected weights I was steering by. |
Waist measurements in 2018 |
(You can see the 2017 charts here). I levelled off my weight at about 155 pounds (70 kg), with a plan to gradually bring it up to 160 pounds (72.5 kg) while either keeping my waist where it is, at 33 inches (84 cm), or bringing it down to 32 (81 cm). Changes at this point are slow and will be mostly invisible to the casual viewer. Lots of resistance training.
The other thing I'm undertaking in 2019 is trying to figure out my salt intake, and probably reducing it. I find the science on sodium intake confusing so far. And like the science on diet, founded on a lot of very dubious self-reported data. I don't think most people have any idea how much sodium they're consuming, just as they don't have any idea how many calories they're consuming. I'll keep reading, and in the meantime, I'll undertake to describe how much salt I'm eating with an actual reliable number.
If there's one firm conclusion I've drawn about weight loss, it's that the primary difficulty has nothing to do with will power or psychology, and everything to do with accurate measurement. It's an engineering problem with fairly fine tolerances, and we approach it with laughably inaccurate measurement tools: what we end up doing is wildly oversteering until we capsize. I expect the salt problem -- if there is one -- will look a lot the same.
Anyway, happy new year to you all! The sun is shining, and melting the ice on the skylights: squares of pure pale blue are appearing there. As we say in the Buddha hood, may all beings have happiness, and the causes of happiness; may all beings be free of suffering, and the causes of suffering.
xoxo
2 comments:
2001 was my weight loss year. I lost four inches from my waist, and I bought new clothes to lock myself in. (I re-outfitted myself two years ago with the same sized clothes.) I've been on the same diet since 2001, but this year I want to make my first modification. I want to end the once-a-week, celebratory binge. I don't seem to listen to the "I'm full" -- the voice of moderation from my stomach. I answer that I won't be motivated all week if I don't have my binge to look forward to. But that's nonsense. And I recently learned that the acid reflux from the binge may be affecting my sinuses.
Wow! Four inches is a lot.
Isn't it odd how rapidly, and unpredictably, "I utterly can't" morphs into "of course I can"? Something shifts in the deep currents of the mind, and all the sudden the impossible is possible.
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