Hi all. I’m 57, kids launched, and I’ve been rebuilding my days around morning walks and actually cooking instead of grazing. Down 34 lbs since last fall.
First 24 came off steadily; the last 10 have been parked since the first week of March, even with 8k steps most days and a rotation of lentil soup, roasted salmon, and big salads. I expected frustration. I didn’t expect this quiet sadness. My size 12 jeans are loose, but I still reach for the old baggy shirts.
Part of me misses the version of me who didn’t have to think about any of this, and part of me is scared to want the final stretch too much. Is anyone else in the slow tail end of their loss? How do you sit with the weird feelings without turning them into a reason to quit?