Saturday, July 25, 2015
"By
a curious confusion, many modern critics have passed from the
proposition
that a masterpiece may be unpopular
to the other
proposition that unless it is unpopular
it cannot be a masterpiece."
-- G. K. Chesterton --
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I'm now at 150 lbs, and have been for quite a while. That may not seem like all that terribly much, but remember that I am about 4'9" tall. On a regular-sized woman, that might be equivalent to over 180 lbs. Being pre-diabetic (and I might be fooling myself there with the "pre") this is bad.
I've been trying to lose weight for a few months now, watching calories, but I guess I'm not trying all that hard because I haven't increased my activity level one iota. So, I weigh me about once a week, or every two weeks, and I'm frustrated to see exactly 150 lbs every time. The needle is so steady that for a while I wondered if the scale was broken.
What's weird is that a few things that were too tight a month ago are fine now, so either I'm losing inches if not pounds, or I'm just more accepting of the lumps. I dunno.
The Man would think I look great now. He prefers well-padded women. He didn't say anything, but I know he was distressed when I dropped to 125ish back in 2009ish.
I guess I'm going to have to start walking, or something.
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This brings up the topic of what happened to The Man? Nothing drastic, really. We enjoyed each other thoroughly during the time, but neither of us was looking for anything permanent or intense, and although the physical and mental intimacy was wonderful there wasn't a lot of emotional intimacy. That was an unspoken but understood agreement. There were a lot of topics we carefully avoided.
So there came a time when things in my life (the kidney stuff especially, and pneumonia) were causing me to withdraw and I was not willing to share the reasons with him, which created a wedge, and then he had some serious physical/medical and professional (and resulting financial and severe emotional) reversals that he was not willing to discuss with me (it being unmanly, and not a part of our relationship, and he certainly did not want my help), so he withdrew also, and then some personality differences came into play that made rapprochement difficult, and we kind of drifted apart.
We both hate the telephone, and I don't text (won't!), so now there are the occasional holiday and birthday emails, and that's about it. I know better than to ask questions, and he doesn't, so even those emails are terse.
I'm ok with it. If I ever had the opportunity to fall into bed with him again, would I? You bet your sweet patooty! That's an experience not to be missed! But on the other hand, I'm not sure I'd want to start that whole thing up again. I'm absolutely glad we had what we did have. He opened a new world to me, and taught me things about myself I'd never known or appreciated before, and I'm glad I experienced that.
I'm not looking for another man. Just not the least bit interested. Plus, I doubt that anyone else could live up to his example. If he's the last of my sex life, it's a bang-up ending, and I'm fine with that.
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