I hate tests. This one feels like a pop-quiz.  Evaluation day-measuring body fat ratios, weights, mass indexes, calories burned, bathing suits, bubbles, the barbie doll blonde attendant and me.  After the quick exchanges of questions and clothing, my results were in.

I am the heaviest that I have ever been in my entire life.  And although I really enjoy my curves (lumps and waist running rolls included) I realize that my need to have a more active lifestyle may be necessary. My fat index is nearly 50%, the largest quantity of any of my other body masses like bone, muscle, skin or organ weight. Considering my age and weight, I am a prime candidate for diabetes, high blood pressure, and a host of other physical ailments.

I am depressed and disappointed at these findings. I knew I had gained weight, but I never imagined having to negotiate this size.  I feel defeated and exhausted.  I want to hide.  I want to cry, but I’ll probably just go to sleep.  Sleeping sounds better than going for a walk.  I want to eat to bury myself in butter pecan ice cream and chocolate chips, but I convince myself that ice cream and assorted dressings are not a solution.  It is time to strategize, I do not want the same results next test day.

January 19th, 2015

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