Making Progress and The Courage of Others

Checking in to note one of my best weight-loss weeks in a while.  I lost 2.2 pounds, after going up 0.2 the week before for no discernable reason whatsoever.  But that’s a 17.8-pound total loss.  I love to say that because it’s almost 18 pounds, which is almost 20 pounds, and that’s a lot of sticks of butter (about 71).  I know that occasionally a slight gain can just happen out of the blue, but it often gets rewarded with a bigger loss if you just STAY ON TRACK.  “What do you think is the reason you did well this week?” the smart, enthusiastic WW leader asked after I volunteered to share my weekly loss during the “celebrations” part of the meeting.  “Meticulous tracking.” And that really is the key; it is why Weight Watchers is working so well for me this time.  That, a summer chock full of readily available no-point fruits, the encouragement of seeing the scale numbers go down and finally fitting into a new pair of capris in a single digit size!  Results.

Yet… as happy as I am about my own weight loss, I can’t help but feel insignificant compared to the accomplishment of another member who regularly attends the same Thursday morning Weight Watchers meeting as I usually do.  I’ll call her Eileen (not her real name).  She sits in the back row.  She is blind and she has no legs.  She has to be weighed-in on a special wheelchair scale.  Lately, she appears to be more confident as she contributes her insights (no pun intended), talks about her slides off the diet wagon, and provides inspiration to those of us who smile at her even though she can’t see us as we hold the door for her loyal caregiver to push her through the threshold to a healthier life.  Yesterday she revealed that she has lost enough weight (30+ pounds) to be able to work with using prosthetic legs and pronounced a goal for one month from now – she will walk through the front door on those legs!  Huge cheers and few moist eyes (mine included) were displayed by all in attendance. Now that’s inspiration and courage.