I Lost Fifty Pounds
And everyone I know wants to know how I did it
Things that weigh fifty pounds: six gallons of milk. An adult male bulldog. My six year old daughter. Twenty-five pairs of shoes.
Also, fifty pounds happens to be the amount of weight I shed from my body this year.
We’re in and out of Pandemicsville, and I’m something of an introvert, so it’s not often that I find myself out in the world, but recently I did dare to step outside, where I blinked away the blinding sunlight and met up with some friends for dinner.
When I arrived, teetering in the heels I hadn’t worn in years (because when I was overweight, I felt like I looked like a potato on stilts) there were multiple, genuine exclamations about how great I looked, followed immediately by demands for my secrets to accomplishing this feat.
First; those compliments felt great. I loved knowing that my weight loss wasn’t just in my head, and that it wasn’t a trivial amount. Sometimes, and especially when you’re cooped up due to the unmentionable illness that has pissed off the masses, it’s hard to see past yourself, so this affirmation of my success was so welcome.
But, the secrets to my success? That’s a pretty big demand. I’ll fill you in, though, on the biggest secret of them all:
