I stepped on the scale, a few minutes ago, and it read: 151 lbs. My diabetes doctor had told me that in order to reach optimum numbers of 6’s and 7’s, that I would probably have to up my insulin, one click a day, to reach them. This morning I clicked 25 units.
I have been hitting steady 7’s in the morning, depending on whatever I had eaten inside the 12 hour window from post dinner to morning. I’ve dropped 10 pounds in the last week.
When we began this little “I think I am looking a little sexy” project in February, originally I had lost 10 pounds, down from the 187 back in November. When I realized that I actually lost weight, for the first time in forever, it only jump started my desire to regain sexy. Because I had not felt sexy in as many years.
I had stuck with frumpy acceptance that I would never shed my “pear shape.” I have shed that frumpy “pear shape.”
Since February, I have only worn pants twice. I have one serious wardrobe full of sporty tights and shirts. The other night, Thursday, I was at a meeting, and had I not extended my hand several times, nobody would have noticed me sitting in the room.
At the end of the meeting, one of the old gay buzzards, whom I have known my whole sobriety, got up from his chair to participate in the final prayer, stopped in front of me and gave me one serious look up and down, as he shook his head in dismay, as if to say,
“Why are you dressed that way?”
Need I explain to people who have not been inside the arena with me over the last year?
People don’t seem to understand that this is my party. And that I don’t accept that the older I get, the frumpier I should look. I’ve been at this physical fitness regimen and Keto diet since February. I’ve lost 36 pounds as of tonight.
That is a small child.
My gay friends are more critical of me than my straight counterparts.
Because I am not one of them, nor do I wish to be.
This holiday season, I am not doing anyone any more favors. I am through being kind to people who don’t reciprocate, and just blindly expect me to give because that is what I have done since I got sober.
If I don’t call my friends and fellows, my phone won’t ring. If I don’t make the out call, nothing gets done, save two sponsees.
They, call me every day.
I go to meetings. I participate. I do service. I give of myself.
People don’t seem to know what reciprocation means and how that works.
Because everyone assumes that
“Oh, Jeremy will do it, so I don’t have to worry about stepping up.”
Not this year …
Thanksgiving is just 19 days away.
Christmas is 97 days away.
Egg Nog is being sold at grocery stores. One of my mentor men’s wife went grocery shopping last week and brought home a jug of Egg Nog, and he tweeted the picture, which ended up with him being interviewed by the CBC in Alberta and made the National News.
I haven’t seen Christmas decorations yet. But that could change at any time.
Fall begins this week. My favorite season of the year.
The turning of the trees, the falling of the leaves, and the very first snowfall are, for me, almost religious observances.
More to come.