Six months ago, when I last saw my doctor, he gave me the option of postponing my blood work to try to get my cholesterol in shape. So I set out on a journey that included a slightly better diet and way more exercise than I’d been living with up to that time. Over the six months, I’ve had a few lapses with the diet, but I’ve pretty much stuck to the workouts, doing twenty to thirty minutes four or five times a week. That isn’t enough to make me awesome, but it might be enough to make me presentable. I was mostly trying to get the cholesterol levels within some kind of normal range.

My weight wasn’t much of a concern during all this, although of course I would like to feel comfortable with what I’m carrying around with me. I don’t like to weigh myself too often, because it’s so easy to be seduced by minor daily fluctuations. In fact, after checking my weight at the start of the process and once a week or so for about a month, I didn’t check again until today. I don’t know what possessed me to step on the scale this morning, but I did it with a little bit of fear that I hadn’t lost anything in all this time. I was even afraid I might have gained a few pounds.

So the shock that registered when I realized I’d lost 23 pounds in six months was enough to make me wonder if there was something wrong with the scale. But no, apparently not. I hate to admit it, but I started at 192, which is way too much for someone of my height. I’m not that big-boned, you know. When I saw that the scale today read 169, I blinked to make sure that it was just below 170 and not just below 190. I really had a hard time believing it.

Now, 169 is still too much, but it’s the least I’ve weighed for a long time. Twenty years ago, I dropped thirty pounds, from 175 to 145. How’s that for perspective? That was the first time I realized that (a) I needed to lose weight, and (2) it was possible. Somewhere in the meantime I lost my way, but the doctor’s incentive got me headed in the right direction again. Knowing I’m doing something right will keep me on that path for a little longer. I’ll probably never get to an “ideal” weight, but with luck I’ll never be as far above it as I was in August.

As for the blood work, I’m thinking that the longer I put it off, the better the results will be. Besides, I never saw the advantage in going to the doctor when I felt just fine. So I plan to steer clear until I have something to complain about. (Actually, I haven’t seen much in the way of positive results from going to the doctor when I didn’t feel okay, either. But that’s another kind of complaint.)