I Lost Some Stuff

As a child, when I used to tease my mother about losing her keys, she smiled and told me that someday, my memory would start to play tricks on me, and I would begin to lose things too.

And look at me now! Now I'm losing stuff left and right. The thought of it makes me smile.

Most recently, I've noticed that in the past 56 days, I've lost 12 pounds. I'm not even the slightest bit concerned. I don't know where they went, and I don't even plan on looking for them. They can stay gone. (The first few pounds always go quickly. It's just water weight, but it still feels good.)

I have also lost the ability to walk around in my current wardrobe without a belt. When this happens, my pants begin to collect around my knees like some of the local kids. I don't mind this either. Soon enough, I may lose some money and find some smaller pants, but I guess that comes with the territory.

I can't seem to find my appetite for fast food and greasy diners these days. It used to be a source of post-traumatic comfort, but I suppose there are worse things that I could be losing.

I saw my mom the other night and she asked me how I was doing. I told her about my upgraded workout schedule, the running, lifting, sparring, training, and hiking. Then I told her about the ever-present soreness that I've been feeling, but how happy I've been to be losing so many things.

Now my mother thinks I've lost my mind.

Mom was always right.