Went in for a checkup today and got basically all good news- they'll be able to re-issue all my prescriptions so I don't have to get just a month at a time anymore, my blood pressure is pretty good, and I've got a referral for my usual diabetic bloodwork.

Over the past couple years, from my peak weight, I've lost an entire shirt size, my face has gone from bright red and spherical to mostly even colored and ovoid, and I've got a lot more energy for things like walking short distances (like 2 km at the outside). So I really thought I would've lost a significant amount of weight.

But no. I've lost, maybe, 25-30 lbs, like 12 or 13 kg, when I needed to lose almost ten times that much to get down to 'healthy'. Reasoning it through, I've put on a lot of muscle specifically in my legs, having gone from totally sessile computer lump who rarely walks father than the distance to his car to mostly-sessile computer lump who lives on the 3rd floor and has to walk down to the grocery store a few times a week. And as every person who's ever worked out to lose weight has told themselves in a panic, 'muscle weighs more than fat'. Meaning it's more dense, presumably, to avoid whole the 'steel's heavier than feathers' Limmy thing.

So okay. I've gotten healthier, that's the main thing. My blood pressure is looking genuinely good, and while my blood sugar is probably too high still due to being addicted to coffee but unable to drink it without lots of creamer, on the whole, this is good news. I should be happy.

I am not happy.

I feel like a guy who's climbing a mountain through raw determination and teeth-grinding effort, thinking he's at least nearing the halfway mark, turning a bend to realize he's not even where people pitch their goddamn base camps. 'Sisyphean' springs to mind, though aside from putting some weight back on last year when I was back in the US for 6 months, I haven't actually lost much progress, at least. I've just made... so little progress compared to what I thought.

Part of the problem of course is that I'm too fat for regular scales; they're just not rated to deal with someone my size and report 'error' if I'm lucky and they don't just fuckin break. So I had no means of measuring my progress other than 'shirt fits better now' and 'can walk a few blocks without feeling like death now'. And then I got weighed properly for the first time in two years, and, oy vey.

It's not going to change anything, I'm still going to live on the third floor and need to walk around the neighborhood on a fairly regular basis, but man is it discouraging. And before anyone says it, yes, I know it's technically a significant amount of weight for a human to lose, and it's healthier to lose it more slowly over time than all in a rush, and I'm on the right track, but god. I thought I was doing better than this.

Anyhow that's why I'm in a funk tonight, how's by you kind folks?