I’m not as fat as I once was
Tomorrow morning I will arrive in Baton Rouge. It’s been three years since my last visit, but that was for relief work after Hurricane Katrina hit; this time, I’m there for my aunt’s wedding (the back story behind which is a separate post).
Once the wedding date was set, I knew I had to commit to resuming my diet. Not only will I see family I’ve been disconnected from for years, I’ll see my grandmother, who bought me a suit (it’s a grandmother thing) five years ago, only to see me balloon 50+ pounds two years later. I’ve lost most of that weight through gradual life adjustments, but I have to wear that suit on Saturday.
So, after a couple of days of starving myself and eating nothing that couldn’t fit through a straw, I’m ready. I weigh as much, if not less, than I did upon graduating college—while that’s still more than I weighed when the suit was bought, it puts me in the wearable-without-awkward-glances-because-the-suit’s-still-a-bit-snug range. Yippee.
And how do I plan to celebrate? Well, if you’ve ever been to south Louisiana, you already know the answer: fried food and drive-through daiquiris. And bread pudding. And maybe pralines (oh, I hope there’s pralines).
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