My Imaginary Horse
Saturday, October 22, 2016
I have what you might call and imaginary horse, although he's real enough to me. His full name is "Weight Loss Regimen" (don't ever call him Diet) but I call him Reggie for short.
Reggie and I have been together for about fifty years. Sometimes he lets me ride him, other times he throws me off and gallops away. Every time I fall off, it gets harder and harder to climb back on. I'm not afraid of the ride, I'm just getting exhausted by the thought of chasing him down and climbing back into the saddle.
Reggie only has one speed: excruciatingly slow (unless he's galloping away from me). When he allows me to ride, we amble along at a disappointingly slow pace and wave at all the friends and relatives who trot by, smiling happily, and calling out things like "I lost two pounds this week," and "I lost one and a half."
Sometimes Reggie just stops dead in his tracks and refuses to move. Weeks go by, but Reggie and I make no progress whatsoever, no matter how hard I try. Exercise, lots of vegetables, no junk food -- Reggie doesn't care. He may be a horse, but he's as stubborn as a mule.
Our journey together isn't just for fun. We do have a destination: the mythical city of Ideal Weight. We're not there yet. In fact, for all our traveling, we haven't been there in almost thirty years. Partly it's because Reggie keeps getting the notion to throw me off and gallop back the way we came. That's when I have to search for him, coax him over, climb into the saddle and try to convince that irascible old critter to turn around.
There are times when I think I should give old Reggie to someone who can handle him better, and I'll just stay right here in Chubbyville, but then I remember how beautiful the mythical city is, and how I'd really like to reach it and live there for the rest of my life. It's not really that far away, and since nobody ever succeeds by giving up, I'm not going to.