Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Seven Pounds

I'm trying to develop a visualization of what a seven-pound object might look and feel like. Say, a newborn baby, or a bag and a half of flour, or one of those supersize tubes of cheap hamburger. Seven pounds of potatoes, seven pounds of jelly-beans, seven pounds of foam peanuts.

See, when you weigh two hundred and fifty-two pounds, and you lose seven of them, it seems rather a meager drop in the bucket, a paltry 2.7% of the total; but if you think about carrying a seven-pound object around with you, and then getting to put it down, it takes on a different dimension... it seems somehow more impressive. Say, a gallon of milk and two boxes of eggs in a shopping bag. Or a dozen paperback books in a knapsack.

At any rate, I've launched into week three of the diet, and it's still going really well. I haven't lost my momentum or my focus, I'm still enjoying the challenge of filling my belly without padding it up further, and I've seen the truth about how exercise elevates your mood (something I always knew on a logical level, but just last week experienced: I was suicidally depressed, but I made myself go to the gym anyway, and after a mere twenty minutes of cardio I felt quite fantastic).

I have this image of myself returned to the slender figure of ten years ago (well, fifteen years would be better, but not realistic at all), the figure that I still identify with myself. And I'm going to hang on to that image until I get there... thirty-four waist, I'm comin' to gitcha!


So let's see, what else exciting is going on in my life?

Last week, my kilt and related paraphernalia arrived in the mail. And, as promised, I wore it to work on Friday, and got quite a few compliments (and a number of bemused stares). I thought I looked pretty good in my get-up:

The kilt was very comfortable, except for having to hold the pleats in the back when I sat down. The sporran was a little bit of a trial, too, but that's just because I'm simply not used to having a big furry object bumping my basket when I walk. I also left the hat off, for though it looked quite dashing on me, it was a little too warm indoors for it.

I don't think I'll wear it to work again, but I'll certainly sport it for parties and such in the future. My next purchase (in installments) is going to be a full-regalia formal outfit with the Prince Charlie jacket, the fly (that's the scarfy sort of thing that goes over the shoulder), flashes (the little flags on the socks) and maybe even some ghillie brogues (the laces wrap around your ankles)... I'm very interested in the "Pride of Scotland" tartan for this outfit (also called "Honour of Scotland," it's mostly heather-purple and soft gray-blue with green and white highlights), and am even considering getting a starter-kit bagpipe to see what I can make of it.

Or, conversely, I may lose interest in the whole Scots proposition. It has been known to happen before, I get all obsessed with something, but once I actually get it and play with it a bit, I just stop caring. Witness my dollhouses, all of which are jumbled down in the basement and completely ignored, though once they were the very light of my life.

Well, anyway, after the kilt day, it was time to return to my more accustomed skirts, as Saturday was the (45th Annual) San Francisco Imperial Coronation at the Gift Center. This is one of the events I always love to attend, San Francisco is the Mother Court and so delegations from all over the country come to honor Mama Jose and the drag empire that started it all.

I had been looking forward to this event for quite some time, having bought a dress for it long in advance. And I have to say, the outfit was one of my most successful looks:

You can't quite tell from this picture, but my shoes matched my corset. Caroline made three of the necklaces for me, the longest one and the bib from Swarovski crystals. And though the hair is a little too "closer to God" for my usual tastes, one does have to make a little more of an effort for SF Imperial. I mean, there are queens there with tiaras that weigh more than the weight I lost in the last two weeks! The Empress of Las Vegas came in with a tiara that was at least four feet tall, and her hair was about another foot above that! I looked practically conservative in that company (oh, check out the photos at RichTrove.com).

And speaking of company, here I am with my reigning Royal Grand Duchess, SoHorny Beaver, and this year's Queen of Hearts as well as Royal Princess, Vivian Lee St. Michael:

I had a lovely time at the event, though I have to say I got a little bit bored towards the middle (I didn't really know the reigning Emperor John Weber nor Empress Cher A Little, nor did I have any personal stake in the coronation of the new Emperor Paul Maka Poole and Empress Angelina Josephina Manicotti), and had to leave before the third act because it was getting too close to my bedtime.

But I didn't get anxious around all the people, I didn't feel lonely or awkward, and I got to chat with a lot of people I know and some I'd never met before. And I even stuck to my diet, even though there was quite lovely-looking food at the table, as I'd had the foresight to stuff my purse with 130-calorie Atkins bars.

Well, I can't think of much else to talk about now... life is rumbling along alright, and I'm pretty happy about it. So I guess I'll close with a spot of lovely young man, and bid you a simply fabulous day!

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