I hadn’t been paying attention to the intervals. Three months to lose 45 pounds, four months to lose 35 pounds, seven months to lose 35 pounds. The final 35 has me ambivalent. What’ll I find on that leg of the journey? Is there beyond?

It was time to switch back to a belt. I still think suspenders are more effective but the shoulder pain was getting to me. I’ve reached the end of the old, slimmer clothes I kept in storage all these years, just in case. That’s six cast-off sets of outfits in a bit over a year. Just how much room it takes up. Took up.

You’ve heard it before, but I don’t believe what I see in a mirror. I was me then and I’m me now. There’s a more defined muscle here and there and my face is leaner, but I just see someone who lost control. I still don’t particularly care to document this process with photos. But these numbers are empirical. They show me I’ve gotten to this point. I don’t need external confirmation of the data of one subject. The subject’s trajectory is evident.

Distance from the self is a sign, isn’t it? Separating body from the self. I forget the term. But I remember it’s a part of who you are until the end.