I have a really lousy cold, which I suspect is pretty typical for a seventeen-year-old. (I seem to remember having colds pretty frequently the first time I was that age.) This virus is leaving me unwilling to blog or do just about anything, though I am getting some good banjo practice in. (Remember, I’ve decided that taking up a new musical instrument is an admirable thing to do when you are seventeen.)
When I was about 14, I was the second fattest kid in my class and had been for some years. I endured lots of “fatso” taunts — though by modern standards I wasn’t so overweight (not that “modern standards” are right). Then, around the winter of 1970-71, my Mom and I (and just about all of Kansas City) got a terrible flu. I remember how lucky we were to have my mother’s boyfriend — my future stepfather — who brought us Chinese take-out and helped us in many other ways. However, it was a terrible experience … except for one thing.
I lost a pile of weight and didn’t gain it back for years! Of course, being an adolescent, I held on to my “fatso” complex for many of those years. I think it was probably such a part of my still incomplete self-identity that I didn’t dare to let go of it.
Now I’m repeating the story, in miniature. This cold has left me pretty hungerless, so without any real work I’ve lost a kilo and a half since last Wednesday; I’m now at 87.5 kg (192.9 lb). Great, but I think the powerful drug I am taking (a popular cold remedy called Frenadol, which leaves me feeling drunk) has something of a diuretic effect. I had to get up to pee about eight times last night. So maybe most of what I’ve lost is water. But, hey, I’m not complaining.
My goal for next Wednesday is 88.0 kg (194.0 lb). Should be easy….