Silver Linings
There is some good that comes from being this sick this long. I mean physically sick, I know I have been mentally/emotionally unwell for some time now. Anyway, I’ve been trying to lose weight for some time now. Two hundred pounds has been the bane of my existence for the past year. Finally I have achieved One hundred ninety. Now I do understand that at five feet ten inches, I’m still about four inches under height for my weight, but I’m finally a little closer.
I really was sick starting in early January. I started losing weight then. I had joked with coworkers that it must be cancer. I knew it wasn’t quite right. It’s as cold as (insert analogy) well… in Ohio this winter. So I haven’t been exercising. So there’s no reason for a guy who eats like I like to eat to lose weight. I should have known. Anyway I had gotten the magic number below 205 and I was actually pleased to be able to wear my ‘skinnier’ clothes. The problem is, the number was still dropping.
I got to the doctor (finally) and he sent me to the hospital. The hospital sent me south of 190. Even my skinnier clothes were feeling baggy. This is great I thought. I can actually conceive of 180 or heaven forbid the panacea of 175. I can taste it. This is more of my mental illness. The idea that I need to recuperate first has less interest than the idea that the water displacement in my hot tub will be reduced. Bring on the skinny jeans!
The other issue of course is that I’m still horribly mis-built. I have what I describe as a bumble bee’s body; I have skinny arms, skinny legs, and a corpulent, fuzzy torso. I look like a giant bumble bee. Unfortunately, no major designer has a bumble bee line. So, my brilliant weight loss has left me with no clothing I can wear and no hope of being able to find such clothing.
To recap, I got sick, I lost weight, I still look terrible. What did I title this entry again?
I really was sick starting in early January. I started losing weight then. I had joked with coworkers that it must be cancer. I knew it wasn’t quite right. It’s as cold as (insert analogy) well… in Ohio this winter. So I haven’t been exercising. So there’s no reason for a guy who eats like I like to eat to lose weight. I should have known. Anyway I had gotten the magic number below 205 and I was actually pleased to be able to wear my ‘skinnier’ clothes. The problem is, the number was still dropping.
I got to the doctor (finally) and he sent me to the hospital. The hospital sent me south of 190. Even my skinnier clothes were feeling baggy. This is great I thought. I can actually conceive of 180 or heaven forbid the panacea of 175. I can taste it. This is more of my mental illness. The idea that I need to recuperate first has less interest than the idea that the water displacement in my hot tub will be reduced. Bring on the skinny jeans!
The other issue of course is that I’m still horribly mis-built. I have what I describe as a bumble bee’s body; I have skinny arms, skinny legs, and a corpulent, fuzzy torso. I look like a giant bumble bee. Unfortunately, no major designer has a bumble bee line. So, my brilliant weight loss has left me with no clothing I can wear and no hope of being able to find such clothing.
To recap, I got sick, I lost weight, I still look terrible. What did I title this entry again?
