Somehow, something has clicked, and after several years of carrying around a belly I have, without actually following any diet in particular, in the past couple of months inexplicably lost fifteen pounds. Well, not totally inexplicably because I have trouble remembering to drink as much alcohol as my doctor prescribes, so I’ve been making a compensatory effort to please her by reducing my consumption of foods she doesn’t want me to eat, a list which by now has grown to include salt, fat, sugar, and starch. Which rules out about 90% of everything edible and 98% of everything good, so it’s not too surprising that I’ve lost 10% of my weight.

I have to say, it’s a wonderful feeling. This morning I’m Segwaying down to the Civic Center Farmers’ Market (officially called the “Heart of the City Farmers’ Market”) to pick up some raspberries and okra and Jalapeños and fresh peanuts and fresh cranberry beans and anything else healthy that catches my eye.

It’s a beautiful day, and as I glide down Market Street, I notice that with my long sleeve shirt open and flapping in the wind, my tee shirt is now pressed against my much flatter stomach, and I’m not looking as bad as I had been.

This feels so good that as I ride, I burst into song:

“I feel pretty, oh so pretty. I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay….”

Naw, just kidding.

It was “C’est moi, c’est moi….”

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