I want to lose 185 pounds and get back to my original weight. Fat chance. Ha!
When you’re young it’s all about growing up, getting bigger, clean your plate, etc. Somewhere around your thirties the great reversal arrives. Someone notes your Milwaukee tumor – “Dude, you’re getting a paunch.” You resolve to slim down, exercise more, eat less and less often. Beaches and skinny jeans terrify you.
Here in Alaska in winter we battle another urge, the ceaseless voice inside imploring you to eat! eat! eat! Hard times are coming. Time to store fat. Yaddy ya. You feel helpless to resist. A bag of Lays and a pint of French Onion dip disappears in under an hour. Before you realize it you can barely bend over your tumor to tie your shoes.
And it has been cold. And snowy beyond usual. Look.
Ugh. Time for another bag of Lays. Krinkle cut.
A visit to Maui and Molokai should take a bit of the edge off of that “Ugh.”