The Burst Bubble

Weigh in this morning puts me at:
16 stone 8 pounds.

I nearly fell off the Nazi Scales when I saw that, frankly. That's the second consecutive week of losing a full six pounds. Nearly a stone in a fortnight.

Blimey.

"I don't mean to burst your bubble honey," said my pal Wendy when I told her this, "but it's mostly water."
"Oh," I said. "Is it? Really?"
"Yep," she asserted. "First two weeks it's the water that is lost. After that comes the hard stuff as the fat begins to break up."

Hmm...well, alrighty then. Either way, if I happened to have been carrying twelve pounds of excess liquid in the equivalent of a giant subcutaneous water-balloon, it's good to have gotten rid of it. It's also good to feel my clothes fit better, and yesterday, my aunt and uncle, who haven't seen me for the last two weeks, were cooing about how "obvious" my weight loss was. If it was all water, then I can now be considered thoroughly dried out. Look at me - The Dehydrated Man!

Apart from anything else, it gives me a satisfyingly lower platform from which to start the effort to lose fat. 17 stone 9 does not feel anything like the same as 16 stone 8, let me tell you. At 16st 9, I feel focused, sharp, and with the requisite stubborn-gittery to push on through the summer of walks and biking and weight-machines and salad-plantations, and achieve real success. I'm not, of course, expecting more weeks like this. Hell, I didn't expect this week to be like this, frankly - by Friday of last week, a surreptitious weigh-in still had me at 17 stone. I'm aware from the previous attempt that this is where things settle down a bit and get hard and slower, but that's OK. This has to be a long-term process or it's nonsense. And right now, I'm entirely up for long, hard, slow processes...though of course the high-speed restart is a delicious bonus.

On we go.

Oh - had the meeting with the Practice Manager by the way. Within 28 days, I can expect an official response from the practice. After which there are decisions to be made about official complaints, potential suits for reparative damages and the like. Sigh...everything would just be so much easier if they'd given me the steroids when they might have done some good. Then I might well have two working lugholes, and they could have avoided all this potential hassle. Still - have to deal with the world in which we actually live, I suppose. So as with Disappearing, so with the Practice - on we go!