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stephbgAnother kilo has gone astray, making me theoretically only one kilo away from my target weight and now safely inside the normal--but not-to-be-trusted--BMI. A couple more and I'll reach my post-food-poisoning record!
However, I have precious little in the way of muscle mass, so there's still plenty of flabby bits that can be safely shown the door. It's the first time I've lost such a significant amount of weight through calorie restriction (and liver malfunction) alone. In better health days I've typically burned off the bulk of the fat with exercise and clean living, then gained a bit of muscle weight and reached a new equilibrium that way (you know, normally). I would *really* like to grow some muscles. I miss them so.
It's actually quite difficult for me to tell how much muscle I have in various places because of the fibro; in many places and at various times the flesh under my skin is rock solid, but for all the wrong reasons. I don't miss the ripping sensation of tearing fibres. That wasn't much fun :-(
So, in lieu of muscle growth I shall move the weight goalposts back a few more kilos.
This contemplation of my structure was brought on by a visit to the Small Clothes box, from which I have rescucitated a few old favourites (Yay!) but regretfully left others for another day. My armies don't yet fit my sleevies, and I still have to cater for stupid amounts of instant variation in my girth from moment to moment. I am a balloon animal. Grrowel.
However, I have precious little in the way of muscle mass, so there's still plenty of flabby bits that can be safely shown the door. It's the first time I've lost such a significant amount of weight through calorie restriction (and liver malfunction) alone. In better health days I've typically burned off the bulk of the fat with exercise and clean living, then gained a bit of muscle weight and reached a new equilibrium that way (you know, normally). I would *really* like to grow some muscles. I miss them so.
It's actually quite difficult for me to tell how much muscle I have in various places because of the fibro; in many places and at various times the flesh under my skin is rock solid, but for all the wrong reasons. I don't miss the ripping sensation of tearing fibres. That wasn't much fun :-(
So, in lieu of muscle growth I shall move the weight goalposts back a few more kilos.
This contemplation of my structure was brought on by a visit to the Small Clothes box, from which I have rescucitated a few old favourites (Yay!) but regretfully left others for another day. My armies don't yet fit my sleevies, and I still have to cater for stupid amounts of instant variation in my girth from moment to moment. I am a balloon animal. Grrowel.
