Have you ever realized you’ve become so self-indulgent that you couldn’t see who—or what—you’d become? I never comprehended, until recently, that my mind was showing me what I wanted to see regardless of the fact it was lying through its teeth. So to speak.
Apparently, the mind can be extraordinarily accommodating. Sneaky. Underhanded. But I’m here to tell you, all it takes is seeing one picture of yourself someone posts on Facebook and reality will slap you so fast, so hard, you might never recover.
Apparently, my loony-tune brain has been changing any mirrored visions to look like the skinny seventeen-year-old I was a millennium ago. It even convinced me I still had a waistline. Dear old Facebook slam-dunked those illusions and stomped them into the ground. The fog had been lifted. My true self had been revealed.
Oh. My. God.
After the shock wore off I went to the scales. I’ve kept them tucked beneath my bed for years. And years. Surely they would tell me the truth. In desperation I recalled reading some movie star saying the camera always added twenty pounds. That had to be it.
Swallowing back my trepidation I pulled them out and dusted them off. And stared. It was a black hole. My cowardly brain told me once I stepped on those scales, I might never be the same again. Maybe I should do this another day? I had laundry waiting.
No. NO. I might—or might not—break the thing, but I was gonna do this. I had to know.
Oh. My. God.
In spite of my delusional mind screaming it needs a new battery!- I knew the truth. I ran down the stairs in a total panic, fleeing from that little conniving monster on my bedroom floor. All those TV commercials touting weight loss and I had ignored them as I sat enjoying my bowl of Blue Bell extra chunky chocolate swirl. The increase in dress sizes…why were manufactures making clothes smaller? My evil mind had ignored all these knocks on my door of reality. Not only had it ignored the rapping, it I had me internally bragging on the remarkable quality only I possessed that kept me thin no matter what, and toasting that feat with a couple of blueberry pastries. Or three.
Okay. Pull yourself together. You’re not dead. Yet. Loose the weight. You’ve been paying for a gym membership for three years. Maybe you should see what’s inside the building. You can do this. You’re a citizen of the United States of America. You are not alone!! It was easy enough to put on the extra pounds. So easy in fact, I’d never noticed doing it. How hard could it be to make those pounds go away?
Oh. My. God.
After a week of dieting (my inept brain calls it starvation), I now hate any food remotely green. I’ve made the acquaintance of the intimidating, totally unfriendly treadmill. I’ve realized there is nothing I can do to a glass of water to make it the least bit appealing. And frustration has become my closest friend.
But—on the positive side—I’m happy to report I’ve lost 4 pounds.
And a friend.
She just couldn’t keep it to herself that the first ten pounds were the easiest to lose.
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