Since the beginning of the year I have lost about 15 pounds. This is huge for me because, well, I like to eat. When I reached my 40’s, my metabolism came to a screeching halt (which no one bothered to warn me about, thank you very much). Even though I wasn’t eating anymore than I had in the past and my exercise level was still the same, the scale kept creeping up on me.
In January I began making better eating choices and stepping up my exercise and was able to get rid of some extra weight. However, another fact no one warned me about was that I would not be able to select which part of my body from which the weight would drop. While I lost some in my waist (Hooray!) and a little off my legs (Hurrah!), the most seemed to come off my boobs. (Yes, I said the b-word.) Unfortunately, I didn’t need to lose any in that area. I’ve never had much there, which is fine because frankly I think they can kind of just get in the way. But to lose what I already had? Insult to injury.
Unfortunately my “girls” took their cue from Katniss and the Hunger Games.
Seriously? Why my boobs? Why not my thighs? Why couldn’t they be all selfless and honorable and volunteer to be the sacrifice?
Sigh. There are probably several 12-year olds out there who wear a bigger bra size than me. Oh, well.
I should have given the fat in my body this message:
I guess my chances of being asked to model for Victoria’s Secret are null and void now. It’s a good thing I have other skills to fall back on such as throwing Fruit Loops in the air and catching them in my mouth. I hear there’s a huge demand for that particular talent.