But as has been the case so many times in the past, it didn't stop with that meal. It ended up being a departure from the plan for over fifteen days. I ate whatever the fuck I wanted, and however much of it that I wanted. This past Sunday, my weight was back at 278.5. Half a pound was all that remained of the loss that I struggled so hard for.
I haven't eaten since Saturday evening - the splurge that sent me to 278.5. This morning, three days after that horrible weigh-in, I weighed 263.5. I've been lethargic and downright irritable. Mostly, I'm mad at myself for giving in to the food addiction for so long and putting myself in this position.
I must get down to 175, and in a hurry. My in progress multi-thousand dollar aircraft upgrade will be wasted if I fail. It is being upgraded to fly under instrument flight rules. I require training and certification to make use of this ability. Training requires flying with an instructor. Flying with an instructor requires sufficient weight carrying capacity. At my current weight, with full fuel, my instructor can weigh 36.5 pounds.
If I can get to 175, that number will go up to 125. Full fuel weighs 180 pounds, so I can leave half behind, still have two hours of flight time plus legal daytime reserve, and increase that to 215 pounds available for a CFI. That's about the bottom for the ones I'm finding, and many weigh closer to 250. Less than half fuel is a hard NO, so either I lose weight, or I conjure a petite five-foot nothing 135-pound instrument instructor out of thin air, or never get my rating.
I will get my rating.
So I will lose the weight. Right. Fucking. Now.
