I was standing on the stairs this afternoon, looking at a photograph of my grand-mémé from 1905 when I suddenly felt like my knees had become very weak. And I’m not talking about that I’m-overcome-by-emotion idiomatic sense of the phrase–my knees truly felt weak, almost as if they were going to bend at any second and force me to land very hard on the ground butt first.
Now, I’m not unaccustomed to this feeling, so I wasn’t too alarmed. I just sat down and looked at myself in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs and grimaced because I know what this knees feeling means.
I’ve lost weight.
To be fair, this isn’t let’s-count-my-ribs-without-using-an-x-ray weight loss. I don’t look the way I did when I was sixteen, but I am feeling fatigued and weak.
I short, I could use to gain close to ten pounds.
I’d propose turning this into one of my big regiments where I track my every move and turn it into a spreadsheet, but we all know what happens to people like me when you bring numbers into the mix–I panic.
So here’s to counting grams of protein, reintroducing dessert into my daily diet, and eating more dried fruit and nuts than any good rabbit should.