Something’s … different.  It may not be tens of pounds lost: it’s the lift in my step; the natural pace faster.   I pull out my reading glasses to scrutinize nutrition labels; shun the old comfort food standbys after learning, say, that the average tuna salad sandwich is about 600 calories.  On the library shelf and on the store’s magazine rack my eye is caught by health themes; better workouts, more flexibility.  Something’s changed.

I’m annoyed when I can’t make it to the gym and be with friends trying to improve their health; chat about the upcoming 5K.  I’m frustrated if I can’t bike or swim or walk.   While waiting in line I sometimes stretch my hamstrings, unthinking.  Roll my shoulders.  I can feel the tightness in my calves if I sit for too long.

I threw out those old baggy pants that never looked good, even when they fit.  I scrutinize the mirror before going out: I haven’t looked at the mirror, really, honestly, in years.   I’m restless when sitting still, watching TV. I’ve changed.

Thanks to all who make me itchy and antsy and pacey and stretchy and yearning for a movier me.


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