Tbh I've lost 42 lbs since March, and the first 34 came off steady. These last 8 have been camped out since early October, and I wasn't ready for how emotional this part would be.
I own a small cafe, so I taste everything — the soups, the lemon bars I pull every morning, whatever new scone recipe I'm testing. I've gotten good at tiny spoonfuls instead of full portions, but some days I stand in the walk-in and just feel tired of saying no to my own food.
I went from a 16 to a 10, which is wild, and yet I keep staring at the same three pounds like they owe me money. I don't think it's really about the number anymore.
It's that I expected a finish line and there isn't one, just a different version of normal. Anyone else find the last stretch is more mental than physical?
How do you stop letting it live rent-free in your head?