In seven days, I rode that euphoric, endorphin-filled ride from 216 to 211. With a day to go, and miles of humidity-induced sweat to show for my effort, I was sure I had two pounds of water weight just waiting for the proper motivation to let go. The promised land – 208 – would be mine!
Except it wasn’t. During this morning’s official bare-bottomed weigh in, the needle on the scale stopped itself at precisely 211.2. Like the mythical Kansas City of musical theater gone by, I’d gone about as far as I could go.
Universe 1. Me 0.
I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. A waist is a terrible thing to mind!
But I’m not doing this to impress anyone. I’m not trying to recapture my youth. My self-esteem is not too low. (Trust me on that one!) I’m not trying to overcome an unhealthy body image.
I’m trying to overcome an unhealthy body.
Diabetes. High blood pressure. Neuropathy and a host of other neurological issues. Overweight. Out of shape. And I chew my nails. (Not that that has anything to do with the rest of that list. Just saying.)
Something’s gotta give. I would prefer that something NOT be my heart, or brain, or any other vital organ.
Don’t worry – I’m taking it relatively slow. I’m following the most basic rule of sustained weight loss: Eat less and move more. I understand that my first pounds were easy, that five pounds this week will probably mean two, maybe three pounds next week. But even if I only manage a net-loss of one pound per week, I will achieve my goal – I will best the Universe – within a fortnight.
And then I’ll set a new goal, and find a new, more worthy adversary. And within a month, we’ll be right here, celebrating another moral victory.
It’s a solid plan. What could go wrong?