The Backside of My Backside
For almost a week, I’ve been writing posts about weight loss. It’s a topic that is fraught with opinions.
We’ve all done it, at one time or another. Looked at a picture online or in a magazine and been outraged at a celebrity that was something other than perfection. Perhaps we expect a lot of others to fill the simmering, unseen void where we ourselves fall short.
I’m pleased with how I look now, but I wasn’t unhappy with how I looked before. The inside is what counts. My blood pressure is lower. Ditto cholesterol. The heart-attack inducing fat around my middle is gone. Shrunken.
There’s less of me to love, but I hope that means I will live longer. Be nicer. Do something good for someone, somewhere. Use that mileage to make a difference in the world. In the end, I don’t want people to remember me for how I looked.
I want them to remember me for how I lived.
This post is part of the series Don’t Mess With the Dress. If this is your first visit to the series, please click here to go back to the beginning, go here for the second installment, click here for the third installment, go here for the fourth installment, click here for the fifth installment and go here for the sixth installment.