Except I'm even heavier.
I'm drinking less, eating less, exercising a hell of a lot more, and according to some scales, I'm even heavier. The ones down at my mum's yesterday reckoned I was nearly 17 stone, which is... erm... 238lbs, US Fat Fans. That's a lot.
Anyway, I'm still loving the exercise. I've been focussing on simple things. Weights sometimes, dips almost every trip to the gym (biceps, shoulders and chest have never been in better condition), and always at least 30 minutes of intense cardio. My 'pyramid' routine on the cross trainer is punishing; start out at level 8 (sorry if I told you this already) and up the resistance every 30 seconds until I hit the top level, 25, and then work down in 30-second increments. On a spiky course. It's hard and then some, but because it's in 30 second chunks it feels kind of manageable.
And I've been on the stepper, which is just plain evil. I'm up to 12 minutes on it now, and it's so, so hard. But satisfying, and it burns a lot of calories, so I'm starting the day in deficit and keeping an eye on what I have to eat so I don't go mad and over-eat straight away. Little-ish and often-ish.
Ah, it'll happen. I feel good, and I feel strong, and I have two new pairs of running shoes coming in the post soon. That really will make a change, I think. I'm at the point where I have missed running hugely, and I can't wait to get out there early mornings, from here to... Well, eternity.
And I shall weigh less, dammit.