now that eating clean and not eating at night has become the rule in my foodie life and not the exception, it feels odd to not eat that way all the time. the upshot is, i'm sliding into clothes that didn't fit me last spring, so the weight loss was gradual enough to stick. maybe it's the change of seasons, but i find myself using clothes to measure the changes in my body instead of the scale. it's much more rewarding, much more satisfying and way more quantifiable than a golden number to hit that somehow "completes" me.
boxing everyday took inches off my frame but i hardly lost any weight. you're gaining muscle, my sparring partner/coach would say, waving me off. you're getting stronger. i was sad because i couldn't fit into my favorite little black dress. now i'm thinking, as long as i can wear all the clothes in my closet -- including that dress, eventually, if i keep this up -- who cares what i weigh. and of course, all of this is making me very happy that i didn't toss out the vintage clothes that i love, simply because they didn't fit anymore. slowly but surely, i'm getting back into them.
so that's my happy epiphany for the moment. what's yours?