You hit thirty or so and all of a sudden, keeping the weight off becomes a Herculean effort. I glance down at my belly more often and wonder if it’s getting bigger when I’m not looking. The truth is, it exhibits no modesty and gets bigger regardless of whether I’m looking.
I’m on an airplane waiting to taxi at the moment and as I was sitting, I actually started to hope that the seat belt would snap right on without having to concede some slack, as if this was some signal from my ego that my weight hadn't yet spun out of control.
It snapped right on, and I actually had to tighten it. A victory, even if trivial. It’s been a good day so far.
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