My ass has fallen.
Literally.
The cosmic audacity of it.
In my early twenties, I gave up my first love. A love that was so pure—if there was any way to trade the pros and cons—I would’ve given up Funk to keep smoking. But I couldn’t. Which is why, 40 years later, I’m still with the guy, and still experiencing that loss.
The minute I quit, my weight shot up from 128 to 152. I was horrified. But I was even more horrified when, two pregnancies and a crash diet took me past the 200 mark. I’ve been tackling the residual effects that the “PHYSICIANS weight loss” program created for 30 years now. Apparently, crash dieting shortly after pregnancy really messes with your metabolism.
That situation, along with many others, opened my eyes to alternative medicine.
My commitment to exercise and viewing food as medicine is what’s kept me healthy and fit all these years, despite my yo-yo weight.
At 61, I’ve finally happened upon the key to maintaining weight loss. It’s brutal. Five days of semi-fasting each month. Nice wife that I am, I schedule the fasts for when Funk is out of town.
I’m back down to 152, but now it’s a welcome number. And I’m confident I’ll reach my goal and retain it this time.
So, back to my ass. Man, is mother nature a bitch. My legs have always been thin compared to the rest of my body, yet my upper thighs seem larger than ever. Looking in the mirror one day, I discovered the reason why. It seems my ass has drifted down to where my thighs used to be.
And I know it’s true because I showed Funk, and the bastard confirmed it.
Here’s to you if you’re using this time of burning and cleansing to overcome lifelong issues. Fingers crossed, for you, that you rise up from the ashes a New and Better You, and for me, that my droopy spaces tighten up.
Photo: No, you’re not getting a photo of THAT! But here’s one you might enjoy all the same. Me, many pounds ago, editing my second book—my ass, although significant, was at least where it should be.