For the last 3 months I’ve weighed myself every day. I’ve obsessed about numbers. I’ve been angry when my scale has been borrowed and not returned (not by the borrowing per se, but because it’s usually locked in someone’s bedroom and they won’t be getting up until the crack of noon).
I’ve even allowed myself to have bad moods and crappy days just because the scale didn’t go down the way I’d hoped, or went up due to water retention. I know I’m not getting fatter, because I’ve obsessed on calories, too.
To get to the next level I needed to put the scale in its place. I needed a new obsession.
Deadlifting changed me.
I’ve been weightlifting since the start, and doing free weights since shortly after Christmas, but picking up a massive barbell directly from the ground has inspired me like nothing else. Better than curls. Sexier than bench press.
I’ve been watching lots of videos and reading dozens of articles to improve my technique, and slowly adding more plates to the bar. My biggest lift so far is 260 pounds, which is 75 pounds more than I weigh.
I’m doing well enough that I’ve completely stopped thinking about losing weight, even though I have 23 pounds to go to my goal. Instead, I’m just concentrating on eating and living well, and adding more muscle. I bumped up my calories this week in order to lose weight more slowly, because I don’t want to undo all the progress I’ve made by lifting. I’m now confident that the other 23 pounds will come, and there’s no rush. I’m not even sure that 23 pounds is necessary, I just know that my love handles need to completely disappear and my tummy needs to be a bit flatter.
I’m happier now just looking in the mirror in the morning, before I dress of after post-workout shower. I’m looking more powerful. The definition is inspiring; more-so to me than anyone else, because I’ve never seen myself look this way, and at this point it’s probably not noticeable when I’m dressed.
Speaking of which, my clothes are ridiculously big on me to the point where every day has become an audit of my closet. I try something on, I realize it’s hopeless, and I bag it for donation to friends or charity.
Yes, this new weight lifting obsession could be yet another one that grows unhealthy over time, but I’m confident enough to believe that I will recognize it as such and change again when the time comes.I can’t see it disappearing completely, but I do think it will diminish in absolute importance as my real goal comes to fruition—a healthy, strong me.
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