How Much Weight Is It Healthy To Lose Each Week?
If you’d asked me how much weight it’s healthy to lose each week before I started losing weight, I’d probably have answered without even thinking. “As much as possible.” That genuinely was my goal. Actually, it is half a pound to two pounds. I didn’t always believe that, though. Here is why.
I wasn’t dreaming about building healthy habits or improving my relationship with food. I wasn’t thinking about how I’d maintain the weight once I’d lost it. I just wanted to wake up one morning and not feel uncomfortable in my own body anymore. If someone had told me I could lose five pounds every week until I reached my goal, I’d have signed up there and then without asking a single question.
Back then, faster always sounded better.
My previous thoughts of how much I should lose each week
While I was following Slimming World during my journey to a 10 stone weight loss I didn’t think of the “healthy amount of weight to lose each week”, I just thought about how much I wanted to be thinner.
Every week by the time I arrived at Slimming World I’d usually spent days trying not to think about weigh-in. It never worked. I’d never have breakfast before weigh in because I was wondering what the scales would say and worrying about affecting them. I’d be trying to guess whether my clothes felt any looser and choosing the lightest clothes I owned. By the time I walked through the church hall doors, my stomach was doing little flips.
I can still picture the queue.
Everyone stood chatting, laughing about their week, swapping recipes and talking about what they’d cooked for Sunday dinner. Looking back, it was such a friendly atmosphere, but I don’t think I was ever fully present because my mind was somewhere else.
I was counting. Three people in front of me, then two, then one. Then I’d hand over my book and step onto the scales. I always held my breath. I never consciously decided to do it. It just happened.
Then, before the lady had even looked down to write anything, I’d be looking at her face, convinced I could work out from her expression whether I’d had a good week or a bad one.
It’s funny what we believe when we desperately want something. As though the look on her face could somehow soften a disappointing result. Or make a good one even better. Was she as invested as I was in how much weight I could lose each week?
How my losses changed my expectations
When I first joined, I’d have been thrilled to lose a pound. Honestly, I’d have danced home. After years of trying one diet after another, one pound would have felt like proof that, finally, something was working. I wasn’t expecting miracles. I just wanted to know I wasn’t wasting my time.
Then the first few weeks happened. The scales moved every week. Within 4 weeks, I had lost almost 2 stones! People started noticing. Friends asked what I was doing to lose each week.
I remember standing in front of the bathroom mirror one morning, convinced my face looked different. I probably stared at it for five minutes, turning my head from side to side, wondering whether I was imagining it or whether my cheeks really had changed. Everything felt exciting.
What I didn’t notice was how quietly my expectations were changing. Nobody ever said to me, “One pound isn’t enough.” Nobody in group rolled their eyes if someone had a smaller loss. Quite the opposite. Everyone clapped for everyone else, whether they’d lost half a pound or five.
The person who became impossible to please was me.
I Used To Think One Pound Wasn’t Enough
It happened so gradually I didn’t even realise it. One week I’d be delighted with two pounds. A few weeks later I’d find myself thinking, I hope it’s a bit more than that. Then, before I knew it, I was walking back to my chair after losing a pound, feeling… disappointed. Thinking, surely if it is only a pound I lose each week, I will be waiting forever to get thinner.
I wish I could remember exactly when my brain made that switch. I can’t. It just quietly happened while I wasn’t paying attention.
One weigh-in has stayed with me all these years. Not because it was my biggest loss. Not because I’d gained weight. Simply because I’d lost a pound.
I’d had what I thought was a brilliant week. I’d planned every meal, measured everything carefully and even turned down a takeaway one Friday night.
When the consultant smiled and said, “One pound,” I smiled back automatically. “Thank you.”
I walked back to my seat, sat down and nodded along to whatever everyone else was talking about. Inside, though, I was crushed. I remember driving home afterwards and not really noticing the journey. The radio was on but I couldn’t have told you what was playing.
Instead, I was carrying out a full investigation. I should lose each week, and not just a measly pound. Monday… what did I have on Monday? Tuesday, we’d had pasta. Maybe that was it. Then I remembered eating a banana one afternoon because I was hungry. Should I have had it? Perhaps I wasn’t actually hungry. Perhaps I was just bored.
By the next set of traffic lights, I’d moved on to Thursday. Had I measured my cereal properly?
I can still picture standing in the kitchen with the cereal box in one hand and the bowl in the other, wondering whether it looked like a bit too much. I actually tipped some back into the box. Not loads, just a few flakes.
Looking back, it’s almost funny. Imagine believing six bran flakes had the power to ruin an entire week’s progress.
Then there was the coffee; did that affect how much I would lose each week? Honestly, the amount of time I spent thinking about milk in coffee is embarrassing. I’d stand there pouring it in and suddenly stop. I swapped to mostly drinking black coffee, but then if I went anywhere, I would refuse a drink as I worried about which milk they had used.
It sounds ridiculous now because it was ridiculous. Not the banana, the cereal or the milk.
The exhausting part was believing that somewhere in those tiny decisions lay the answer to why I’d “only” lost a pound.
I wasn’t enjoying my meals anymore or listening to whether I was hungry or full. I wasn’t thinking about whether I had more energy or whether walking felt easier. I was trying to crack a code that didn’t exist.
If I could just find the perfect combination of breakfasts, lunches, dinners and walks, maybe next Tuesday I’d lose three pounds instead.
Bodies don’t work like that, of course. I know that now. the amount you lose each week depends on so much more.
Why does the amount we lose each week change?
Our bodies naturally fluctuate. Some weeks, they’re hanging onto water. Some weeks, hormones decide they’re in charge. Some weeks, stress has its own plans. But I didn’t know any of that then.
All I knew was that I thought I’d worked incredibly hard for one pound.
Years later, after losing 10 stone and then regaining some weight, I found myself standing on the scales celebrating numbers I’d celebrated before.
I hadn’t expected that to feel so difficult. I remember thinking, How can I be pleased to get back to a weight I’ve already been? For a while it almost felt as though those losses didn’t count.
As though I’d somehow used up my right to celebrate them the first time round.
But that’s one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned. A pound doesn’t become less valuable because you’ve lost it before. Your body doesn’t know whether it’s the first time you’ve reached that number or the third. It only knows you’ve spent another week looking after yourself.
So, how much weight is healthy to lose each week?
For most people, around half a pound to two pounds is considered a healthy, sustainable rate of weight loss. If you’d told me that years ago, I’d probably have nodded politely before secretly hoping for four.
Now? I’d happily take the pound. Because that pound no longer represents how “good” I’ve been. It represents another week of choosing myself. Another week of making healthier decisions more often than not. Another week of carrying on.
If I could sit beside the version of me driving home from that weigh-in all those years ago, I’d tell her to turn the radio up. Stop replaying the banana. Forget about the cereal. Drink the coffee at a friend’s house.
Then I’d remind her of something it took me far too long to understand.
One pound was never “only” a pound. It was a whole pound. And that was always something worth coming home smiling about.
Has this helped you to look differently at the amount you lose each week? Do you feel disappointed when you should be proud? Let me know in the comments below.
