And the magic number is . . .
The holiday eating season is officially over, so upon rising this morning, I dared to step on the scales to see just how bad a shape my bloated carcass is in. And there you have it. We begin Atkins again this week.
I weighed about 220-something at the end of last summer when I began ballooning up and could no longer wear my Philmont belt. So losing 20 pounds means I can fit into everything again.
Losing thirty pounds means getting down to about as slim as I've been in the last twenty years. I was 212 in the summer of 2004 after several months on Atkins. The lowest I reached on that slimfest was 208, right after coming back from Philmont Training Center.
Losing forty pounds (or a little more) would be my dream. At my age and height, I really should be trying to get under 200 pounds and stay there. But I'm not sure it's really possible, no matter how much I diet and exercise. My metabolism is just way too slow anymore.
But there you have it. Losing twenty pounds will make me feel human again. Losing thirty pounds will make me skip like a ram. And I need to get down to something trimmer by May, when I go hiking in the Adirondacks, and/or by July, when I'm hoping to go hiking in Yellowstone.