The case of the suspicious tummy dents
My Hub kept poking at his belly yesterday. "There are DENTS in it. Here on the sides. DENTS. It's like I'm a car door. It is WEIRD."
"Yeah," I said, "I noticed them last week. Your belly starts lower than it used to, and ends higher. I think it's shrinking from all sides and converging on your belly button."
"That's totally screwed up."
"Dude, fat recedes from all your parts at the same time. It's like you're a particularly knobby kind of onion and are peeling off layers."
"Can't it just deflate my tummy first?"
"No. But your neck is already starting to look thinner, and you've got definition in your calves--"
"Where?" He cranked his head over his shoulder and practically chased his tail, trying to look.
"--and your arms have less fat and more muscle. Not bad for five weeks of exercise and three weeks of healthy eating."
Which is true. He's also improving his flexibility and strength by littles, thanks to his wacky yoga, and I swear to God he's taller. Maybe his posture is improving from the yoga, maybe it's just that he's got less horizontal mass to distract from the vertical length, but he looks taller. I'm getting a bit nervous about this. I've always loved him regardless of what form he chooses to take, and I've always been attracted to him, but I don't know what will become of me if he turns into a hottie. I may just melt into a little puddle.
He had a bit of a crisis this past weekend when, after a burrito and nacho and beer dinner at a friend's house (for what he terms EATING NIGHT), he weighed in the next morning at exactly what he'd weighed three weeks ago. Much wailing and gnashing of teeth resulted and I had to reassure him a hundred times that he had water retention and several pounds of slowly-digesting food, not magically-recreated fat. After four days he was right as rain again, and today he hit a new low, six pounds below his starting weight.
Happily, the fact that I was correct about his burrito-weight being temporary means that he's willing to grudgingly accept my notions on how the whole diet thing works. He started panicking yesterday about Thanksgiving. I told him that a) it's not what he does on Thanksgiving that he should worry about, but about what his habits are on the other days, and b) he may want to resign himself early to not losing weight that week. This did not please him, but he's mulling it over.
A momentary YAY for two momentous occasions: 1) I weighed myself for the first time in forever on Saturday, thus confirming my suspicions about where my weight was, and 2) I weighed myself again on Wednesday and came in a pound and a half lower. Which is undoubtedly just due to normal fluctuation, so I'm not getting too excited; given that I'm not going crazy hardcore it may take me a few weeks to regularly clock in around that level. Slow and steady, yadda yadda yadda.
"Yeah," I said, "I noticed them last week. Your belly starts lower than it used to, and ends higher. I think it's shrinking from all sides and converging on your belly button."
"That's totally screwed up."
"Dude, fat recedes from all your parts at the same time. It's like you're a particularly knobby kind of onion and are peeling off layers."
"Can't it just deflate my tummy first?"
"No. But your neck is already starting to look thinner, and you've got definition in your calves--"
"Where?" He cranked his head over his shoulder and practically chased his tail, trying to look.
"--and your arms have less fat and more muscle. Not bad for five weeks of exercise and three weeks of healthy eating."
Which is true. He's also improving his flexibility and strength by littles, thanks to his wacky yoga, and I swear to God he's taller. Maybe his posture is improving from the yoga, maybe it's just that he's got less horizontal mass to distract from the vertical length, but he looks taller. I'm getting a bit nervous about this. I've always loved him regardless of what form he chooses to take, and I've always been attracted to him, but I don't know what will become of me if he turns into a hottie. I may just melt into a little puddle.
He had a bit of a crisis this past weekend when, after a burrito and nacho and beer dinner at a friend's house (for what he terms EATING NIGHT), he weighed in the next morning at exactly what he'd weighed three weeks ago. Much wailing and gnashing of teeth resulted and I had to reassure him a hundred times that he had water retention and several pounds of slowly-digesting food, not magically-recreated fat. After four days he was right as rain again, and today he hit a new low, six pounds below his starting weight.
Happily, the fact that I was correct about his burrito-weight being temporary means that he's willing to grudgingly accept my notions on how the whole diet thing works. He started panicking yesterday about Thanksgiving. I told him that a) it's not what he does on Thanksgiving that he should worry about, but about what his habits are on the other days, and b) he may want to resign himself early to not losing weight that week. This did not please him, but he's mulling it over.
A momentary YAY for two momentous occasions: 1) I weighed myself for the first time in forever on Saturday, thus confirming my suspicions about where my weight was, and 2) I weighed myself again on Wednesday and came in a pound and a half lower. Which is undoubtedly just due to normal fluctuation, so I'm not getting too excited; given that I'm not going crazy hardcore it may take me a few weeks to regularly clock in around that level. Slow and steady, yadda yadda yadda.
posted by Meg at
9:18 AM
2 Comments:
your hubster cracks me up. what a gem :)
By
Anonymous, at 5:05 AM
DG, you should see him. He is a HOOT these days. I forgot the best part-- the other night he'd done some stretches before bed (as is his wont of late) and afterward he was sitting at the computer and he just looked up at me with this starry smile and said, "I... I feel GREAT. Seriously, just GREAT." There was such wonder in his voice. Watching him discover all this has made me so, so happy, both for him and that all the crap I've gone through can save him some of the trouble.
Also, I finally listened to your radio show thing and my cat FLIPPED OUT. He stared at the computer and then he started "talking" back to it with these little plaintive meows. I think he likes you!
By
Meg, at 7:32 AM
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