Last fall I whined and moaned about my Dr.'s request that I go on a diet and stop with the sweets. The diet she suggested was a Mediterranean, not difficult - actually rather fun. The sweets were difficult. I am of the opinion that humans are genetically wired to eat sweets until they explode, thereby decreasing the surplus population.
The weight loss seemed to be non-existent. In fact, my scale was really stubborn about allowing itself to decrease in the numbers shown.
What was going on? I analyzed my food intake. I looked through a microscope at the ingredients on my food purchases. Any more than 4 ingredients (sometimes 5) and it didn’t make the cut in my hunter-gatherer expeditions to the grocers. I shopped the outside isles of the store, rarely venturing into the center isles. My vegies were fresh; my meats organic. What was going on?
Then, one morning a few days ago, after looking at the stingy movement of the scale, I got dressed. I looked in the mirror. Now, this is something I avoid for the most part. Mirrors and I don’t get along. But this time, as I gazed at my reflection, I noticed that my clothes didn’t fit quite right. The jeans were baggy in the butt. They required a couple extra notches taken in with the belt in order to stay up. My shirt was lacking that little bit of padding around the mid section.
Had to be my imagination.
Later that day I went out to purchase a bit of new bedding and decided to get a pair of jeans as I had worn out a pair earlier in the month. I grabbed my favorite brand in my “size” and tried them on. Low and behold! The mirror in the store revealed the same poor fit. The sales woman ran, giggling, to grab a size smaller.
A. Size. Smaller!
It took months. Lots of months. My weight is almost the same. But, I am a size smaller than when this little ordeal began!