"I'm still here," I say then I disappear.
For weeks on end I go AWOL only to pop up like that rascally gopher crawling out of his hole in Caddyshack. I stick my head above ground, do a quick little dance and grin. These posts lately have felt like nothing more than me shaking my chubby hips before quickly scurrying back underground.
Frankly, the commitment has been a bit schizo.
So what happened to me? What happened to that steely resolve? What happened to that walk with my wife where I declared "we are never going back there!"
All I know is my pants are uncomfortably tight. The dedication to diet is on shaky ground and my program collapses like a house in Haiti once the tremors start.
I wish I could say that my jeans were washed in hot water and they shrunk.
Not so.
I certainly can just switch to the next size up but that would be too easy. That would be waving the white flag of defeat and surrender. I would rather live with the tight waistband that serves as the pinching and painful reminder that I gotta get a grip.
No more time outs. No more celebrations.
I am turning the spotlight back on and crawling out from underground.
It's the only thing I know that works in my battle of the bulge.
This will be the first of at least three posts this week.
Photos and written material by Steve Elzer
© Copyright, 2010
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