The number of miles I ran on Saturday. No walking.
The number of miles I ran last week total.
The total number of pounds I’ve lost so far.
The number of pounds I still have to lose to reach the goal the RE gave me.
The pairs of work pants in my closet that do not make me look like a homeless person. (Technically, this is not true. They are not in my closet—I am wearing them.)
The approximate number of people who commented on my weight loss last week. All of a sudden, people are doing double takes. It’s kinda fun. I’m not one for attention, but I’m trying to let myself enjoy it. It would probably be even more noticeable if I had more clothes that fit me properly.
The number of pregnant people I’ve secretly given dirty looks this morning at work. Proof that I’m still me no matter how good I’m feeling at the moment.
The number of times this weekend I wished I could just fast forward to my next period because I am sick to death of waiting. I am so ready to be back in the game.