The Impractical Art of Loss

I just began maintenance again on my umpteenth session of HCG dieting.  I’ve lost track of how many sessions its been now.  I have officially lost more weight than I currently weigh, which means that more than half of me is gone. 

The weight loss is considerably slower and I often wonder what I might be able to do to speed up my metabolism without expensive experimental supplements.  I have come to the idea that slow and steady loss is acceptable.  I began to exercise thinking that might help.  Well, of course, it has helped.  Not so much on the scale but certainly in my well-being.  Its fun to be able to move about freely and to see the chair on either side of my hips when I sit down… if it’s a larger sort of chair.

I’m saggy…  like an anorexic elephant, whoa.  I doubt that can be fixed by exercise.  It isn’t pretty but I suppose it won’t hurt anything but my ego… I’ll live with that as an aide memoire to dissuade falling back into gastronomical depravity.  Although, I’m still outside the limits of being “normal weight,” I’m comfortably in a size 12, a considerable improvement on a size 3X and much improved on having to shop in the Women’s Section, W for the Wide Sizes. However, I’d like very much to actually weigh less than my husband or be a weight that I could say without feeling embarrassed.  Or have pants that are too small for him to fit into, instead of pants that would swallow him.

I have 25 lbs to go to get to MY goal weight.  It will disappoint the men in my life.  They’re looking for svelte. I’m looking for robust health and a stronger constitution. 

I do get a bit discouraged at the needle stuck on my scale, almost to the point of using a hammer to bust open the clear plastic cover and make sure its still in good working order.  I bought a digital scale as a back up… but no good news.  My hammer attack would only serve the purpose of retaliation for an honest report.

I guess that’s what happened to Adam and Eve.  Satan told them what they wanted to hear.  They didn’t really want the truth.  It’s a lot easier to settle for the lie.  If I fixed the scale to say I weighed 120, I’d have to go after the mirror… and where would it end? 

Bang, Bang Maxwell’s Silver Hammer…

Truth starts a rampage. 

I guess it always has.