New Adventures Exploring the Amazon & the Ghost of the Fat Man
I’ve gotten use to the organic meandering lines of the continuous traces. What at first seemed un-orderly to me has now become natural and normal, and the striaght mechincal lines I used to love now look artificial and strange. Funny how quickly we humans adapt, isn’t it? These traces, which seemed so alien to me at first are now so beautiful to the eye.
So I’m trying to figure out why a man who only owns three pairs of pants has no room in his drawers. At first I had suspected an intrusion of overflow female clothes from you-know-who. But that is not the case. It turns out I own three pair of pants that actually fit. It turns out I own a significant wardrobe of descending sizes that no longer fit. Thank God for $9.95 jeans at Wal-Mart, or I’d be broke! My current, and slightly baggy pants are 36. I can wear a 34, but not comfortably yet. So I guess my waist is actually a 35. The largest pants still in the drawer are a pair of 48s (relaxed fit at that!). I try them on, just for fun.
Oh. My. God.
Was I ever really big enough to fill this mountain of cloth?
I can’t remember if I’ve even told you this story, and I’m too lazy to re-read the whole blog, so if I’m re-telling this I apologize. When it was finally settled that I was, in fact, a very late to the party T-1, I started reading up on T-1s. I found over and over that T-1s are typically described as thin, angular, ectomorphic if you like. So I asked my Endo, so why am I the only fat T-1?
Just wait, she told me.
Sure enough. I melted. Like magic. No real effort on my part. I don’t know if the disease ate the fat, or if the carb counting and healthier eating did it, but 60 pounds went away in about ten months.
Now my wife and her family worry and tell me I’m too skinny. (My medical team says they won’t worry until I lose another 20 pounds, so I don’t think that I’m really all that thin, just so much thinner than people were used to seeing me). But last night as I was walking past a mirror I caught a glace of my reflection. I had to stop and stare. Yeah, there I was standing there in front of the mirror, checking myself out. Like most heavy people, I’d learned to look in a mirror and comb my hair and trim my beard without really looking at myself.
But now I’m looking. Wow. I gotta tell you, I like what I’m seeing. I like this being thin. I’ve been heavy most of my life. Well, I can’t recommend the D-diet, given all else that comes with it, but at least I’ve been given one perk.
I used to be a fat, out of shape middle aged man. Now I’m a skinny, out of shape middle aged man. My new goal: to be a skinny, in shape middle aged man!
I’m loving the bike, but, yikes! It has really shown me how pathetically out of shape I am. My current work out (don’t laugh): I ride the long way to work. About 600 yards. Up and down and around rocks and cactus, but more or less flat. Then I do another 600 yard loop at “lunch.” And a final returning home at the end of the day. I’m getting slowly better, but that 600 yards leaves my heart pounding and me panting for breath. Pathetic. Lance Armstrong is laughing his ass off right now. Oh well.
Hey, Lance, no prickly pear on the Tour de France!