Saturday, May 30, 2009

Meet My Pound of Fat

I feel it most when I’m lying in bed on my side. Or when a man in the grocery store smiles at me. That’s when I notice the part of me that’s missing.

Like most transformations, losing weight changes everything and changes nothing. I’m always hungry. I’ve always been hungry.

People who haven’t seen me in a while want to know what I eat, what kind of exercise I do. I’m always happy to relay my daily food intake in excruciating detail. But The Pound of Fat is my real secret weapon.

The first time Davida the Weight Watchers Leader passed one of these around the room I sat in silent awe. It was the size of my nine-year-old’s sneaker. Not the size of my computer mouse. Not the size of my coffee cup. I’m talking about a size-four Nike Dunk high top. I never imagined A Pound of Fat would take up so much space.

I lost 18 of these bad boys this year.

I look at The Pound of Fat and can no longer say to myself, “So what if I gain a pound or two. What’s a pound? It’s nothing, right?”

We’re all a little dazed when The Pound of Fat makes its way up and down the rows. We’re all thinking the same thing: Hmph. That sure is something.

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