The mansions on the main street in my hometown were built in the 1800s with money earned by Michigan lumber barons. I was always fascinated by the stories of their exploits up north. Which is why it is fitting that I would relive a little piece of that history with my summer weight loss program. It has been a fat logjam.
For the better part of a month, I gained and lost the same 2 pounds. It was as if I had a 2-pound belt that I would take off in the morning, put back on at night. Take off on Wednesday, put back on come Saturday. I went over this same territory for so long that when I would step on the scale, instead of showing my weight it would just say, “Why do you bother?”
My sister Mary Kay said she had the same problem in August, so it might have had something to do with the alignment of the moon and stars – probably the tides. Definitely not related to eating out and partying too much. Oh no.
Drum roll please…I finally lost a pound. A new pound. A never-before-removed-from-my-thighs pound finally slipped free of its fat moorings and went Wherever Fat Goes To Die.
Halleluiah! The fat logjam has been busted!
Things have progressed pretty well since that breakthrough. Further fat logs have eased their way downriver, and hope springs eternal that I will be able to ride this out to the end. Which end is defined as some date in October or November when I get together with my sisters.
I’ve heard some tales of good progress from the other contestants, but mostly a big, fat cricket chirping on the interwebz. What does it mean? Sandbagging? Or logjamming?
I guess we’ll have to wait a few weeks to find out. Wish me luck in the home stretch.