My sister perused the photos from my high school reunion and sent me an email complimenting me on not getting fat. (Isn't that sweet?) Compared to some women in the photos, it's true, I'm a stick. But it's all relative. At the height of my vegan debacle, some six years ago when my body was feasting desperately on muscle and brain cells, having burned up all available fat, I guess you could say I was pretty thin. To be more precise, I could get into the same size Levis I wore in high school 40 years ago (30x34 in case you are curious), and those scruffy Levis hung on my frame like my own droopy skin.
Then, to avoid dying, and because I could (since I live in America, the land of plenty, and back then I had a job), I started eating real food: eggs, chicken, beef, fish, and lots and lots of vegetables. Over the next two years, my muscles returned, along with all of my fat cells (which were never gone, just deflated, darn it), which ballooned to fill all the spaces in my now too-tight clothes. The Levis went into a drawer, replaced by various forms of loose, stretchy pajamas. Black, of course, because it is so slimming.
For the past year or so, as my system has stabilized on the low-carb real-food food plan, some of the extra weight has started dissolving, first from my face, then from my boobs, then my waist, and—if I live long enough—maybe from my hips and thighs. It would be nice to have thin thighs like I did in high school. The good news, in relative terms considering the world is spontaneously combusting right now, is that I can finally fit into my Levis again (although I admit it's a bit of a struggle to get them buttoned up).
So, thanks, Sis, for the moral support. Keeping in mind of course, that it's not really true that outward appearances trump emotions, behavior, and character. That is to say, it matters more how you feel than how you look. In the big scheme of things, we are lucky to be alive and living in the land of plenty (plenty of everything, good, bad, and in between, but mostly pretty good in Portland). Things could be worse. We could be living in Baghdad, Aleppo, or Ferguson. Seriously. Land of plenty, indeed! Gratitude list!
