So, I know that I’ve lost weight since starting medical school. This was by design. After our month long summer introductory session, I weighed myself. The reading was the heaviest in my life. A combination of long nights studying and a lack of diet control pushed me to gain those few pounds. Thankfully, my overpriced rent includes a fairly good gym only a two minute walk from my front door.
Regimenting my life has been a god-send. I had no idea I could take to a normal schedule so well after spending so much of my life in constant flux.
A year after starting medical school, the scale now read twenty pounds lighter.
The weight did not come off obviously to me. But I did notice little things. My quickness going upstairs. My shrunken appetite. My somewhat better mood.
And then today, I put on a shirt I haven’t worn in a long time. It’s a thick sweater-like shirt, with long sleeves and an exaggerated collar. Previously I didn’t wear it. A little too tight, a little too restricted. Very annoying. It fits my aesthetic, but what’s the use in wearing something that makes you so uncomfortable.
But then last night, when choosing my outfit for a semi-professional gathering today, I saw the shirt again. And I tried it on. And it finally fit right.
The difference between myself last year and today does not seem so great, but the little things keep me going.
For the past month, though, I’ve been slacking. I haven’t been to the gym in the morning. Internally, I started using school as an excuse. But then, inevitably, one of my friends called me out. I post my workouts in the morning on Snapchat. Easy accountability. He hadn’t seen any. And I had no excuse.
So back to the gym I go. Because, frankly, I want to keep losing weight. And I want to keep having those small moments where I feel just a little bit better about my health, and have a little more hope that my family medical issues might not come to pass.
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