I’m almost 66, and for the past year, I’ve been trying to lose five pounds. Just five. I’ve done everything “right”—weightlifting, pickleball, Zumba, walking, low-carb eating, intermittent fasting, even a long stretch of no snacking thanks to Invisalign. I’ve avoided sugar, tracked my choices, and stayed consistent. And yet, not a single pound lost. It’s maddening. I’m not obsessed, but I am frustrated. These are things that worked before. My body is aging, and I get that. But I can still complain, can’t I? Especially when I’m doing everything I can and the scale refuses to budge.
I used to follow strict Keto and lost 20 pounds years ago. That success kept me loosely low-carb ever since. I veered toward Carnivore, dabbled in fasting, and tried to stay mindful without tracking every macro. I don’t want to go back to obsessive logging. I weigh myself once a week—not daily, not compulsively. The scale is a tool, not a tyrant. But lately, it feels like it’s mocking me. I gave up the restrictions a couple of weeks ago, let myself enjoy a few things I’d been avoiding, and now I’ve gained three pounds. I can’t even.
I’ve had hormone-fed breast cancer, so HRT isn’t an option. My thyroid’s fine—yearly bloodwork confirms it. My mobility, energy, and balance are all solid. I can get up off the floor without help, which feels like a small triumph. I’m not falling apart. I’m just stuck. And it’s not about vanity—it’s about feeling like my efforts should count for something. I’m not asking for miracles. Just a little progress. A little validation that what I’m doing matters. That I’m not spinning my wheels in place.
I lost my husband two years ago, so I do have perspective. I know five pounds is nothing in the grand scheme. But it’s not really about the weight—it’s about control, about feeling like I still have some say in how my body responds. I’m trying to accept the changes, trying to be grateful. But some days, I just want to scream into the void. Or at least vent to the internet. So here I am, discouraged but not defeated. Determination in the toilet, yes—but not flushed away completely.
I’ve got two cats, one of whom has claimed my favorite chair and refuses to move. I wear a size 9 shoe. I avoid bananas—too many carbs. These are the facts of my life right now. And while they may seem trivial, they’re part of the tapestry. I’m still here, still trying, still showing up. And maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel better. Maybe I’ll lace up my shoes, chase the cats off my seat, and start again. Because that’s what we do. We keep going, even when the scale doesn’t.
So here’s to a new day. To acceptance, to gratitude, to women everywhere who are doing their best and still feeling stuck. You’re not alone. I see you. I am you. And while five pounds may feel like a mountain today, tomorrow it might just be a pebble. Cheers to the climb, and to the strength it takes to keep climbing.
