I'm still the same weight I was before: I'm at 164. That's OK. I'm not pushing 170 anymore. I'll lose more weight.
It's interesting how you will encounter life events that will test your new found resolve, and sometimes you'll pass with flying colors; other times you will not! Take the Lake Carmel Volunteer Fire Department Parade this past Friday.
OK, late in the game I decided to get involved with marching for Mahopac Volunteer Fire Department. How late you ask? Their last freakin' parade. Well, I go with the quarter master to fit myself for a uniform. Don't get upset, I tell myself, as we have to go up in size on the navy wool pants alone...twice! Don't freak out, I warn myself, as we go up two sizes in jackets and still can't find a fit, because after that the jackets get way too big, like I'm some five year old dressing up in daddy's clothes for fun. However, the jacket I'm left wearing for the day looks like the buttons are going to explode off of my chest.
I check myself out in the mirror and cannot repress the thought: Yuck, I'm goddamn rotund.
As I descend the stairs to join the men, who are now piling into fire trucks and police vehicles, I try to shake off the emotions of disgust, regret and embarrassment. My own husband, bastion of love and support that he normally is, says, "Hey, Stacey, that jacket is SCREAMING on you!" No kidding, guy.
As we march through the streets of the Lake Carmel Fire Department district, I'm waiting to hear the parade marshal scold me, but he doesn't. Thank God. I mean, I marched for years with another department where I was a member. But it had been nearly as many years since I'd marched in my last parade. I did eventually fall into the groove, though, and found my arm swing matching the man in front of me, my strides stayed even, and I stayed in step.
A few people asked me if I was all right as we neared the end of the parade. Why? I wasn't huffing and puffing. I had sweat waterfalling off me in sheets. We probably only marched for a mile, in terms of sheer distance, but it was all uphill, and when you march, your footfalls are very rapid (at least I feel they are). It's a lot of work. And there was a lot of stops and starts to the marching; while you mark time, your body is still working. By the time we reached the bullpen at the end of the parade, I still wasn't breathing heavy, but I was soaked.
Good, I thought. That burned some calories right off me, on top of the hourlong cardio workout I did.
In the bullpen there were the usual options--beer, water and hot dogs. Lake Carmel Volunteer Fire Department made me exceedingly happy by offering Propel bottled water, too. I guzzled down a bottle, hoping my electrolytes would rebalance before I passed out cold. No beer for me, though. And I resisted the hot dogs. But by the time we got upstairs, I sat myself down in front of a table laden with bags of chips. While I passed one test, I failed the next. I shoveled down corn chips and ruffled potato chips. I passed on the curly Cheetos, though, loudly complaining that they looked like anal probes. (Classy dame that I am, of course). I probably had about ten handfuls of chips, and that was my dinner. Nutritious! No wonder I haven't lost any more weight. But that's OK. I haven't gained a pound back, and I must say...when I look down at my tummy, which is starting to shrink (thank Jesus)...is that...no...definition? Am I perhaps going to have tight abs someday, if I keep up the work? Will the chiseled stomach erupt out from under the gooey skin that covers it currently? Why, yes, yes it will! That'll be better than any "A" I ever received on a test at school!
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