Sometimes I have a problem with seeing things in the right perspective. I can take what should be a positive experience and turn it into a totally negative outcome. Take for instance this past week. I am six months into my weight loss challenge to lose 80 pounds by December 31st and on June 30th I had lost exactly 40 pounds. Doing the Slug Armstrong math, I am half way through the year and I have lost half the weight; therefore, I should celebrate. Just don't ask me to show my work.
So, as I exited the scale I thought I would celebrate and try on one of my new Batman T-shirts which is almost two sizes smaller than the shirts I used to wear. Now, all of you fashionista's know that being able to wear any article of clothing two sizes smaller is something to celebrate, however, you have most likely never been stuck in the Bill Kirby vortex. Opening the closet, I grabbed the superhero shirt and pulled it over my head and the damn thing fit like O.J.'s glove.
Ripping it off of my body I turned it inside out and looked at the tag. Surely I grabbed the wrong size at the store and that would explain why it fit me like an undersized condom. Checking the tag it debunked my theory and verified the fact that I had indeed purchased the size I intended. It was at this point that some tiny switch in my Kirbyoblongata must have gotten switched onto "full retard" because I threw the crumbled up caped crusader across the bedroom with the velocity of a Nolan Ryan fastball. There was to be no weight loss celebration this day at the Kirbarosa.
What is even more retarded than my incredible hulkish outburst is that I have been working really hard at trying to live in the moment. Had I done this all correctly, I would have exited the "weight loss scale of truth" and given myself a high five and reflected for a moment on the success of a hard fought six months which is what 4 out of 5 dentists recommend. But no...
Looking to make myself feel better, I went back to the closet and grabbed one of my "old" T-shirts which slid over my head with the ease of a greased pig in a poke. In my warped mind it was better to wear something that fit like a maternity dress as opposed to anything that might show a Batman bulge in all of the wrong places.
Now, several days later, I have had the opportunity to reflect on the T-shirt tragedy. Actually, I did this today as I was on my four mile trek in the rain. Nothing says "living in the moment" like walking in a torrential downpour. I was remembering how difficult it was to walk even a half mile when I started this challenge back in January. I remembered how little children used to mistake me for the Pillsbury Doughboy when they would pass me in the aisles of the grocery store. As the music continued to cascade through my headphones, I thought about how good I felt now that I had lost "four bowling balls" and how thankful I was to God for being able to celebrate another day of life; healthier than I had been in a long time.
Maybe there is hope for me.
Be Well.
Bill
