We had a field trip out to dinner last night. I somehow hobbled in through two swinging doors (you’ve got to stick that crutch in quick and stop the door) and into the ladies room to wash my hands. As I was hopping on one foot, I glanced to the right and there I was in full side view, crutch balanced
gracefully under my right pit, and I had to look twice. Was it me, or did the crutches make me seem slimmer? Was it the long clean line of the crappy, well-worn, hand-me-down beauties that seemed to make my profile more narrow, less bumpy, less belly-centric? No, I don’t think so. I’m running with it, well, going anyway. I think it’s definitely 84 days of this magical Ideal Protein ride. It’s 84 days of plodding along. It’s 84-freaking long and tedious days of stick-with-it-and-be-a-badass-ness that made me look twice. Do I feel great about it? Hell, yes! Am I done? Uh… no. (sobbing…)
I’m just about a half pound from half way. The last two weeks have brought crazy change, stress, and surgery into my world. Just two weeks ago, I left pieces of my heart in Colorado with my oldest son, I got a year older, a college friend died suddenly, and my knee was scoped. Hella few weeks, huh? Did I tell you that the doc used the word “arthritis” in the same sentence as MY knee? Did I mention he said it was a 3 on a scale to 4? It was really irritated by the tear in the miniscus that rubbed the stuffing out of the inside of my knee, but seriously? Old people get arthritis, not I, not wee little me who’s still in my fabulous forties. The last two weeks my scale has been hovering in the same spot and not giving me a moment’s peace. In truth, why can’t I just see that the scale is just showing me a number? Health, family, gratitude, and love, that’s what’s important. Having the will to plod forward toward my goal, stoking the fires of the stick-with-it-and-be-a-badass mentadditude, that, that’s coming from inside. That second glance at a smaller me, and the ability to let the inner critic acknowledge progress, that was a sweet bonus.