Between the boredom of the lockdown and getting close to my goal, I've been fantasizing. Sue me. My imagined goal day:
I would get up and step on the scale, knowing I'm close and this could be the day. I would come in just under the 50kg mark. I would step on and off the scale in disbelief. After years of gaining, losing, maintaining, and all the crap in between, I made it. I'm done. This has consumed my thoughts and life for years, and now, if I play my cards right, I'll never have to do it again.
I would change the settings on all of my apps. Switch the Cronometer target from "lose weight: 0.5kg/week" to "maintain weight". I would log my weight in Happy Scale and Tactio. I don't even know what Happy Scale does when you reach your goal. Maybe some virtual fireworks? I'll watch the stats shift one last time, hitting my last milestone, my final pace. But it won't matter what the numbers are in the end. There's only one that reigns supreme.
I'd start planning out my meals with my new calorie goal... 500 extra calories to work with, eh? My acquired eating habits would kick in - I'm now very good at knowing which foods will help me reach my nutrient targets, and they're easier to hit with extra calories (there's almost no wiggle room at a deficit). I'd indulge in some favourite foods that are a bit higher calorie and I often didn't have room for with my restricted budget. Granola. Cashews. Peanut butter. Muesli. A lovely dish of tortellini with rose sauce, spinach, garlic, pesto, cherry tomatoes, and mushrooms. Avocado toast. Yum.
I'd open my closet and look at all of the clothes that have gradually started looking better on me over the past few months, knowing that now, I can wear any of them and feel OK, and if they still don't look good or feel comfortable, I now have license to throw them out. I'd probably have a mini fashion show with my few favourites, trying each one on, standing in front of the mirror, admiring my curves from every angle, thinking back to all the times I stood in front of so many different mirrors and felt shame. In different houses, stores, cities, and even countries.
I'd wear those clothes in the coming days, but first, I'd take out my fat pants and take a good, hard look at how loosely they now hovered over my hips, how far down they slide - barely concealing my underwear. At this point, I could wear them out in public and they would look like those oversized "boyfriend" jeans. Back when they fit more snugly, had I known they would one day fit me that way, I would have cried sitting on the bench at the mall, looking over in envy at a slim women whose body looked good in anything.
After obsessing over the graphs and numbers, probably for hours, I'd set out to get started on my new goals. Run a 5k, which seems impossible right now (even though it's said to be easy and a "beginner" goal). Probably aim for a mostly a vegan diet - vegetarianism has served my weight loss endlessly well. Meet my nutrient targets. Do a bit of recomp - the muscle on my body is currently missing in action. Eat the healthy foods that I now know how to make in a way that tastes good to me - for fuel, not for pleasure - with a few "treats" in the mix.
Honestly, this is all just suspicion on my part - I have no clue how I'll react, just that I won't know what to do with myself or what to do next.
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