My weight loss goal is in sight.

 

It isn’t so much a number as it is a territory.

 

And I’ve reached the territory!

 

Today when I got on the scale, I saw the number I’ve been going after for well over a year. I’ve been within six pounds of it, off and on, for at least that long, but it remained elusive.

 

The number I was looking for, based on my height, gender and weight, would put me in “overweight” range on the BMI scale, down from “obese.”

 

THE LAST TIME I WEIGHED THIS LITTLE…

 

The last time I weighed this little was when I was caring for DeForest Kelley in the hospital 25 years (GADS, a quarter century now!) ago. I lost quite a chunk of weight pretty fast during that time because I was running my tail off, fretting about and caring for him and his home, working at WB when I wasn’t doing De’s or Carolyn’s bidding, and pretty much forgetting to eat.  In fact, sometimes the only time I ate was if De told me to have the remainder of what he was given at the hospital because he couldn’t finish it. At one point, he even mentioned my weight loss, saying I was “looking good”.

 

So, to drop from “mid-range obese” to “overweight” on the BMI scale between 2020 and now is a big deal.

 

In 2019 I weighed 238.

Today I weight 185.

I’m 5’7″ tall. 

 

2018

Post- chest masculinization surgery, 2021 (with my surgeon)

(Pre-panniculectomy surgery, which happened in 2022)

Ruby Beach, 2023

Howick, New Zealand, March 2024

I have lost even more since this photo was taken.

I’m in size small sweatpants!

 

MIRACLES HAPPEN!

 

You have to understand. My metabolism is designed to hold weight. Most of the ancestors on my mom’s and dad’s side of the family have been significantly overweight or obese, and not because they weren’t hard-working farmers, ranchers, and railroad workers. They’re just designed for bulk. All came from northern Europoean countries back in the days before electricity and easy access to food 24/7/365. Their metabolisms clung to calories to sustain their lives.

 

So, no matter how hard I worked (baling hay, walking/running, getting A’s in PE), I was a heavy teenager and became an even heavier adult as the years went by. At one point in my mid-20’s, I weighed 278 pounds.

 

INTESTINAL BYPASS 7/7/77 IN LAS VEGAS NEVADA

 

I had intestinal bypass surgery in 1977 to get rid of the excess weight (an experimental procedure). Before I underwent the procedure my doctor put me through a series of stress tests to be sure I was robust enough to survive surgery.

 

After he did that, when I went in to get the results, he literally apologized to me.

 

Dumbfounded, I asked, “What for?”

 

He said, “When you came here, I thought you were a damned liar.  You told me you’re active, that you grew up on a ranch baling hay, and all the rest, and I didn’t believe you. I had you pegged as a closet eater: someone who eats entire cakes in one sitting.  But, seeing the results of these tests, you are an ATHLETE. You are in superb shape, other than your morbid obesity!”

 

I got through the surgery just fine and eventually lost just over 100 pounds.

 

But at age 48 or so, my thyroid quit on me, and I started gaining weight back.  By the time I had the cause diagnosed, I was obese again, about 230 pounds. (I was worrying I had  a massive tumor growing inside me and was afraid to go get it checked out.)  My doctor checked my thyroid and diagnosed me with hypothyroidism. He prescribed Levothyroxine, but wouldn’t give me enough to help me lose the weight I had gained, saying to do so would be dangeous as hell.

 

So, I started exercising  

 

HA!  Exercising got me nowhere.  I would walk five to seven miles per day, every day, and lose a total of five pounds over the course of three months, but after that, nothing more. Frustrating as hell!

 

In 2018 and 2019, I took up pickleball — until a few weeks after COVID came calling here in Tacoma in January, 2020. I was so wrapped up in pickleball — playing several hours, several days a week — that I knocked off 30 pounds. I went from 238 to 208 during that time. But no one was wearing masks, so I quit going. (I contracted COVID there and quickly learned how freaking dangerous it was. This was pre-vaccine, remember.)

 

And that’s pretty much where I’ve stayed up until about a year ago. COVID, as luck would have it, seemed to “tame” my sweet tooth and my appetite. I no longer even thought about eating unless I became truly hungry. That has certainly helped because, as a super-taster (pre-COVID)  just the smell of food would turn on my salivary glands.  It was like drawing a moth to a flame.

 

These days, although I still love the smell of food, it doesn’t compel me as in days of yore, and I don’t think I’m a super-taster anymore, either.So, slowly over time, I’ve become less and less interested in cogitating over when my next meal is due and what it might be.  I just hang out until my tummy tells me, “OK, you’d better eat something” and then, usually, it wants something that’s actually good for it.  Fast food and most restaurant food makes me sneeze now, and Doritos gum up my internal works.

 

Homemade soups (vegetable beef, pork, chicken, with lots and lots of vegetables in broth) float my boat. I make a crockpot a week and freeze it in serving size containers and look forward to eating those.

 

This has been a long-winded way of saying that I’m very, very happy that I’m slowly losing additional weight.  I would like to eventually reach 170 or 175 pounds. Given my heavy bone structure, I don’t ever expect I’ll become reed thin, nor do I want to.  But every pound I lose helps me love my body more, and that’s good.   After my chest masculinization surgery and the panniculectomy — both done within the past five years — I am beginning to truly respect my body and how stalwart and robust it has always been. Anything more that I can do to thank it for its life-long service, I want to do.  Losing a bit more weight seems to be just the ticket.

 

But no pressure. Pressure never got me anywhere. I’m loving my body thither, not lashing it.  I take it on walks, bike rides, and other pleasant pursuits. I want it to feel loved and appreciated, not castigated and maligned.

 

It’s a whole new perspective for me! As a trans man, I’ve always felt at odds with my configuration (aka gender dysphoria). I’m learning to appreciate all it has done for me. What it lacks isn’t what I’m focused on these days. What it has permitted me to do far outweighs the ways in which it has limited me physically, politically, and socially.

 

It’s all good.