GET OUT!

Last time, I was talking about loss: the loss of a friend, the loss of a fingernail, the loss of a pound. At the time, it struck me as funny - the fact that you don’t really lose something you don’t go looking for, do you? I mean, when I lose my fingernail, I don’t go looking for it, so if I find it, I can glue it back on. That hardly ever works.

I suppose there are things we lose that we do look for, like money, car keys, the kids...stuff like that. But as for most of that other stuff, if it’s gone...there is probably a reason.    

But...the real issue here is weight, isn’t it?

People say I lost 2 lbs. this week or I lost 5lbs. on that diet - all that implies is the pounds aren’t really gone, they have just relocated and that scares me. That is like that weird episode of Doctor Who when the Adipose babies where made entirely of human body fat, gross. Although it was a very quick weight loss....if you survived. (Sorry, I digressed again.)

Anyway, we say we lost it as if we had it in our hand with our car keys, put them down somewhere, and now we just can’t remember where we put it. If it were that simple, I would have “lost” a lot of things a long time ago. Also, every time I’ve lost my keys somebody found them. And with my luck, my fat would be too dumb to run away. No - it would stay right there so I could find it and take it home. It’s not lost! It did not wander away from the rest of us when no one was watching. And it did not take a wrong turn at Albuquerque! It is not lost. It is gone.

I don’t mean to sound exasperated, but I don’t want to lose pounds - I want them to get lost. I want them to drop off the face of the earth, to succumb to the forces of nature, kick the bucket, cease to exist, shrivel up and die.  It’s simple, really. I want my fat to leave me and wither away, dissolve, disintegrate, implode. However you look at it, I don’t want there to be any chance of it rearing its ugly little head again around me, or anyone else for that matter. I think that’s clear enough, don’t you? Now the trick is getting my fat cells to somehow understand.

Where’s Doctor Who when you need him?