Less Is More Less

I’ve mentioned my latest bout with cellulitis – 104.5 fever for the win! – and the misery if brought forth. After a week and a half, I finally landed an appointment with my primary doctor.

I;m sure many people have problems with their doctors, but mine is awesome. I told him about the cellulitis and he responded, “Don’t you have amoxicillin?” I replied I ran out, then after giving me a disapproving look, he said, “You need it. Like every day.”

So the doc hooked me up, and hopefully the cellulitis will be kept at bay for a while. But that’s not why I’m posting this today.

I am posting this because the doctor walked into the room, stopped, and said, “Wow, you look great. How much weight have you lost?” I told him I was 212 on January 1st and two days prior I clocked in at 185. The doc told me I looked “slim,” so I responded with the usual phrase, “No, I’m less fat.”

It’s nice to be noticed by family and friends, but when the doc notices weight loss, I assume it’s a good thing. The doc asked me how low would I like to go, and I honestly didn’t have an answer. My stomach isn’t as flat as it could be, so right now, anything under 180 would be fabulous.

I’ve been heavy since my 30’s, and now that I’m fifty, I realized I wasted two decades lying around and not exercising. It’s depressing, but it’s all my fault. A lot of friends of mine have gained weight – some have gained so much they are unrecognizable. I don’t want to be that person anymore.