A Friday Haiku
The checkout cashier tells me
“Nooooooo!” comes my reply.
I don’t usually lead off with what my scales says, but I’ll make an exception today. What does the scale say? I don’t know, but the fox says, “Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringding!”
Sorry. Try to get that song out of your head now.
Anyway, the scale read — *drumroll* — 196.3 pounds! I think that’s the lowest my weight has been since before my thyroid went wonky and I blew up like the Michelin Man, so mid-90s? (And there is one photo of me from that era. I’m so puffed up, my eyes are squinty. I hope my wife burned it.)
So, yes, I’m happy. I’ve lost 2.5 pounds just since last week. Granted, I’m hangry all the time, but nothing a fun-sized Snickers can’t tame.
I was well over 235 pounds (maybe more, a lot more, I don’t recall) when I started this adventure. It’s taken longer than I would have liked, but I’m finally seeing progress.
I think that deserves an extra apple.
No, it’s not a new ADHD-driven interest. I wouldn’t have the patience for sculpting. Nor was I ever very good artistically using three-dimensional materials.
I’m talking about body sculpting. As the layers of fat fall away, I’m starting to see that underneath the benefit of the exercises I’ve been doing is starting to be revealed.
I do not have six-pack abs yet, but I can see that as the keg disappears, there is a six-pack hiding under there.
I stopped at the store yesterday for a few things, mostly stuff for a cold. You know, chicken soup, orange juice, bacon, the essentials.
All the lines were long. I waited, then it was my turn. She scanned everything, rang it up, and just as I slid my card, the card-reader went blank. Then it flashed on, Remove Your Card. So, I did. Then it said Transaction Canceled and went blank again.
The cashier said, it says you canceled the transaction.
I put up my hands. “Not me. The reader is having problems.”
After several unsuccessful attempts to get it to work, she finally called for help. Another lady came and reset it then left.
We waited. I watched as the reader rebooted. Then it went blank again. I looked at the cashier and shrugged. She said the register didn’t come back up either.
By now, the lady who had helped was swamped behind the service desk. The cashier explained to those waiting that her register was broken.
The guy next in line gets huffy. “Why don’t you move to that register?”
And she explained that register was logged in by someone else, now on break. She can’t just log in. Besides, her cashdrawer is stuck inside this register, which she can’t extract.
All the others waiting in line filtered off to other registers, while Anger Man sat steaming for a minute as if our cashier had magical powers to scan his stuff. Then, throwing up his hands, he stormed off, leaving his shit on the conveyer belt.
She looked at me. “If anyone should be upset, it should he you.”
I said, “What good would that do?”
Which is really strange, because usually I’m the one who explodes in anger when things go wrong.
Finally, the other cashier came off break and my cashier explained what was going on. Cashier2 was nice enough to ring up my purchases while Cashier1 bagged so I could get out faster.
I scanned my card and that’s when I heard the dreaded words: “Insufficient funds.” I would have laughed, because now it felt like a bad sitcom.
I tried a credit card. That one said, Overlimit. Shit. Third time was a charm, however, and I left with my purchases, feeling a little embarrassed.
Another weekend is upon us. I hope it’s a good one for you.
I leave you with a song I only just heard this morning, but I really liked it. Made for a good drive in to work.
I hope it brightens your day as well.
Remember: Keep on keepin on. Resist.