Welcome to the second installment of my sporadic, incompetent attempts to track my own fitness pogress. In late January I posted the first entry, about the moderate success I’d had on Atkins so far, and a summary of previous weight-loss experience. At the time, I wasn’t sure how much I weighed because I maxed out every scale I tried (and I wasn’t anxiously engaged in seeking out scales with higher weight limits).

In mid-February I took a trip to Utah (incidentally, this was the second time I took a break from the diet), and while I was there I found a scale that gave me a pretty good idea of my then-current weight — at the Thanksgiving Point dinosaur museum. I think it was meant to weigh multiple museum visitors in comparison to the posted weights of some types of dinosaurs, as an educational tool. Which meant the scale went high enough to tell me I weighed 365 pounds.

Pretty steep. And considering the amount of weight it felt like I had lost already (and taking into consideration the fact that I was already down three notches on my belt — the third notch self-punched), I must have been well over 400 pounds before I started. Almost John Popper territory (at least, from his halcyon days).

Since I got back from Utah, I’ve weighed myself a couple of times on the scale in our office gym, and found that I no longer max it out. Last week I weighed in at 350 pounds on the nose, and today I was down to 344 pounds. I’m now visibly swimming in the giant fat-guy clothes I’ve been wearing, so this weekend I’m going to dig through some of my outgrown wardrobe to see if I can find a better fit. Everything’s coming off nicely . . .