Oh fuck it, yes I will.
So eating-wise it’s all rainbow and unicorns. I was 212 again this morning but I dropped so much weight so quickly this week, I was actually happy to still be 212. I was worried I’d go up a pound or two, that it had been a false water loss. So 212 is great. I really weigh 212. Yay me. I also had a nice bike ride today with my son, so I got the exercise portion of my day completed as well. Food, water, tracking & exercise. Check! So all is well right?
Well yes, except I saw new pictures of myself – in bike shorts. UGH.
I swear to gawd, it’s like the thinner I get, the more I notice how fat or just plain awful some parts of me still are.
Take my calves for example, please, take them! I don’t want them, they’re huge! For christ’s sake, if my waist keeps shrinking and my calves stay the same, my waist will be smaller than one of my calves. I need to someone a priest maybe, witch doctor, rabbi…? Someone to come kill my fatted calves. I’m fully ready to sacrifice them.
And as if that was not enough, nothing like the flaps of loose, saggy skin that randomly appear in pictures. Sigh….
I know, I know. I look better than I did. And more importantly, I feel a zillion times better than I have for the last 2 decades! And I did this to myself, and yes, in a couple of years I can have a shitload of plastic surgery. I know all that. That’s all rational, logical reasoning.
My obsessing now is a purely emotional response, and one that cannot yet be contained. I have been forced again to visually, digitally, confront the truth of my existence… and the truth is, my calves are freaking enormous. They could have their own zip code!
Okay it’s possible I’m exaggerating slightly. They do not need their own zip code. But a GPS to circumnavigate them is highly recommended.
Here they are holding me up: Shamu and Ferdinand.