I've done it... Yep, I met my goal.

It's been around 9 months of changing my thought-patterns, eating habits, exercise habits, and managing stress in an entirely different fashion. I've lost nearly 70lbs and have finally reached that number that I thought was impossible. I honestly believed that this number in my head was way too low for me to strive for. Yet, here I am... and the scale agrees with me too!

Instead of the great sense of accomplishment, I'm struggling with a different issue. My extended family has started to ask some very personal questions. At first, they never would directly ask me, it was to my husband or to other family members. The questions surrounded what my goal was, possibly where I started out at... or a combination of numbers that through careful gossip they might discover just how fat I was. I have no problem stating the 70... or even that I'm at my goal. However, to tell them the number that I'm at now or the number that I began at is too much information.

The other day, I was on the phone with the only one who has been consistently talking to me about it (everyone else needs to find out the information through other people). She kept badgering me. "It's not like I want to know the big number, just what's your goal?" Note: this is the side of the family that doesn't really have very many problems with their weight. They naturally have that fabulous metabolism that allows them to eat whatever they like and they still can fit into a size 2 when they are in their mid-40s.  Therefore, I'm the odd-duck out in the family having struggled so hard with my weight for so many years.

She continued to ask... prod... poke... and finally I caved after a long inquiry that was drawing on the last nerves that my kids hadn't already destroyed for the day. I told her my goal. It seemed to satisfy her. However, afterwards I wondered if this was simply to check if I was indeed still fatter than her. Yep, I most likely am, and don't anticipate that I will ever fit into clothing like she is able to. I refuse to starve myself, exercise excessively, or become anorexic. Short of any of these things, I will most definitely never be a size 2... or whatever number she is at.

Now, to be fair, she did get up to a 10... once. So, maybe she can understand, a little. But, the fat that I got to was much higher than she can even imagine. It's a little different when you are getting dieting advice from someone who maybe needed to lose 20 lbs (she had plenty for me when I first started out).

I feel a little manipulated... why did I cave? Why couldn't I have held out? Will the entire family know just how fat I was? Does it really matter? Possibly not. I'm proud of my accomplishments and that should be enough. However, it's difficult when people see me now because I know that's what they are thinking.  "Just how fat was she?"

If it was only friends or acquaintances, I wouldn't care, but with family it's a little different. I think this is why it's so frustrating. I will continue to hold my head high and stand in my accomplishments. I will continue to work on my issues and continue forth on my journey, but I have this nagging feeling that the high-number or the ball-park estimate might have been revealed.