100 pounds later...

When you begin any sort of journey -- your education, planning for a significant occasion, a quest for better health or weight loss -- you peer through the tunnel and look for the light at the end. You imagine the way you'll feel when you finally arrive at your final destination, and that feeling compels you to continue on in the direction you are traveling because you know that the hard work will be worth it in the end.

As I was standing on the stage to be hooded at my law school graduation, I felt the light all around me. And I felt the very same way as Micah and I climbed into his truck and headed to our hotel the night we got married.

While I certainly cannot say that I've arrived at my final destination with respect to this particular journey, I did catch a glimpse of the light last week when I stepped on the scale and saw this.

I can't remember seeing a sub-200 number on the scale since my wedding day in 2008. And so, for a really long time, I've wondered what it would be like to be "below the big chunk," as my sweet friend likes to say. (If you've ever stood on a mechanical scale at the doctor's office while they nudge the big weight over to 150 and then try and adjust the small weight, and you have to tell them, "no, just go ahead and move the big chunk over to 200," you totally feel me.)

Standing on the scale and seeing these numbers flashing at me, I felt bathed in light, and it was a beautiful thing.

This number probably still seems ridiculously high to most of you, and I will certainly agree that I've still got a long way to go. My body mass index is still way too high, and I would love to be in jeans several sizes smaller than those that are currently hanging in my closet. So it's fairly mortifying to post this number here for the entire internet to see.

But the fact that I weigh less than 200 hundred pounds today is really significant because 18 months ago, I weighed 300 pounds exactly.

300 pounds, friends.

Yes, I was pregnant. And yes, it was totally worth it. And yes, I loved myself even then.

But I can't begin to describe to you the shame I felt when I stepped onto the scale at the hospital as I checked in to deliver Grace and watched the nurse slide that big weight all the way over to 300. In that moment, I recognized how out of control things had gotten, and I promised myself that I would figure out to get myself back on track.

And so I did.

Today, I'm making myself vulnerable to you all because I remember how desperately I clung to hope when I was struggling to figure out how to make a change. I made myself read the stories of those who had traveled this path successfully, even when I didn't want to, because it was irrefutable evidence that I was capable of doing the same.

And so are you.

Whatever journey you're on, know this. There IS light at the end of the tunnel. Heck, there's light in the middle of the tunnel. Just set your feet on the path and take that first step. You'll be surrounded in light in no time.