Careful What You Wish For

I always forget how dark it is on the trail, first thing in the morning.  Banks and I got there about 5:25, and I noted that it was even darker than I’d remembered.  About 50 yards in, I realized we weren’t even on the thing, we were walking on the outer perimeter of the leash-free dog area.  We climbed down to the trail; the city lights from across the lake bounced off the water, giving off more light.  Good lord, how long had it been since I’d been there early in the morning?

It was beautifully cool and windy; I was oblivious to the fountains we passed, only stopping at one to make sure Banks got water, and even he had little interest.  By the time we returned from our loop, the big orange water barrels had arrived, but I elected to pick up some bagels and head straight home.

Around this time two summers ago, I was in Greece.  One of the street vendors was selling these incredibly cute pants, in weird, undecipherable Greek/Euro sizes, and I couldn’t try them on in the street anyway, so I just picked up a pair that looked like they’d fit me.  Boy, was I wrong.  The actual leg parts were big and loose, but the waist was disproportionately small.  The first time I tried them on, I swear to God, I got them pulled up to just above my knees.  From then on, I used them as a sort of barometer as to where I was weight-wise.  I remember once last year pulling them up almost to the top of my legs, but nowhere near the waist.

A couple of months into this year, I could pull them up, but getting the zipper zipped was a lost cause.  And then last night, I tried them on again.  I pulled them over my hips and up to my waist.  I zipped, and the zipper went right to the top.  An unimaginable victory. And then I looked at myself in the mirror.

Crikey!  What was I thinking? They look like clown pants!  My hips look 70 inches wide, my legs look like sausages, and I don’t even want to talk about my butt. Why in the world did I think they were cute?  I’ll tell you why:  Lynn, skinny Lynn, was with me and bought her own pair, in a more muted gray, and they look adorable on her.  I don't care how much weight I lose, or how many miles I walk, there is no way these things are ever going to look good on me.  Maybe I'll donate them to Goodwill.  Or maybe Keene could find some use for them in his circus routine.   Hey, I know, they could be kind of funky pajama bottoms! Let this serve as a humbling reminder that as happy as I am with how things have gone this year, I have a looooong way to go.

Triumph or Tragedy?