On September 21, I wrote about how it was waaaaay too soon for me to be stepping onto the scale and having it read 200.6. The previous day I’d dropped to a new low at that point of 203 pounds and it was just completely anomalous for me to follow-up the very next weigh-in with another such big drop.

As such I violated my rule of weighing myself one-time-and-one-time-only each day and recording the result whether it was fantastic, depressing or indifferent, and I stepped on the scale again immediately, wherein the numbers read 204.4 — a far more realistic measurement.

I might not have re-weighed that day if it had read 201-something, but because the 200 mark is almost as monumental a milestone as my ultimate diet goal of 190, I wanted the achievement to be legit and inline chronologically with my roughly pound-a-week loss program, not the result of a fluke or the scale’s failing battery.

That’s why, almost four weeks after that September surprise, when I stepped on the scale this morning I just flat out accepted it and figuratively high-fived myself when it read:

200.6

Honestly, I can’t pinpoint when I was last 200 pounds. All I remember is that I was sub-200 throughout high school so¬† it was probably nineteen hundred hellyeah and eighty three-ish for those of you-ish keeping score at home.

As to anyone looking for a more visual quantification, behold below my torso in a relic I’ve never ever before been able to comfortably wear for the 22 years, 6 months, 2 weeks, and 2 days I’ve owned it — a memento from my participation in the Jimmy Stewart Relay Marathon that took place on April 1, 1990, in Griffith Park. I kid you not, even on the day of the event my extra-large frame (augmented by an even more extra-large spare tire) was too wide for this slim-fit tee: