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# 97 to 83.9, One Morning at a Time
- URL: https://christingeorge.com/97-to-83-9-one-morning-at-a-time/
- Published: 2026-09-30T13:34:37.000Z
- Updated: 2026-09-30T13:36:55.000Z
- Description: Part two of my weight-loss log: daily weigh-ins from March to July, a US holiday, and a week the scale refused to move.
- Author: Christin Emmanuel George
- Tags: Weight Loss, Food, Walking, Health Journey, Kochi

## The ritual

The scale and I meet every morning, after the bathroom and before food. The ritual settled in around May and was promptly waylaid by three weeks in America, but it recovered. I used to joke that my dream the night before a weigh-in was a satisfactory poop. Like most of my jokes, it was fully sincere.

## The drop

In the middle of March the scale said about 97 kilograms.

The food changed slowly, without any single announcement. Breakfast stopped being a decision: protein oats, whey, skimmed milk and black coffee, the same most days. Lunch became rice with curd and vegetables, or a three-egg omelette made with no oil. Cabbage was a cheat code, enormous on the plate and nearly invisible in the count. Around the middle of April, food started getting weighed before it was eaten. The kitchen scale was already in the house. It was my wife's, because she lives healthy. I lived like a pig.

## The holiday clause

At the end of May I flew to the US for about three weeks of friends, Las Vegas and New York. There was pizza with Blue Moon one night and a Guinness on another, that one earned in advance by 13,000 steps. A vegetarian friend made a chicken pot pie so good I ate three times the portion I had promised myself. I logged it and walked the Strip.

By 25 June the morning number was 86.5.

## The stuck week

The middle of July got stuck. The scale sat in the 84s and refused to leave, while the eating stayed measured and the steps stayed above 20,000 a day. By every number I controlled, weight should have been falling. The display disagreed for a week.

The explanation was not exotic. A bathroom scale weighs everything, including water and yesterday's dinner, still in transit. Fat is only one of its interests. The new diet was smaller in volume, digestion had slowed to match, and the mornings had turned, in the language of the dream, unsatisfactory. Psyllium husk joined the evenings, strictly for traffic management.

## 17 July

On the morning of 17 July the display settled at 83.9.

Nothing dramatic had happened overnight, apart from the thing I used to dream about. The arithmetic had been working the entire time, and the queue had finally cleared. 83.9, roughly thirteen kilograms south of March.

*Next: what I was actually eating.*