No one is perfect.
No matter how hard you try, sometimes you get thrown a curve-ball, or you get served an upset that is, well, upsetting.
Like gaining 2.2 pounds in a week.
But, it’s how you handle those curve-balls – be they extra, unwelcome pounds or the knowledge that your planet is going to be demolished to make way for an hyperspatial bypass – that shows you your progress as a person.
Today I learned that despite getting farther away from my goal this week (I wanted to hit my 5% weight loss), it wasn’t the end of the world. There was a time when gaining THAT MUCH weight in one week would have derailed me mentally and emotionally, but today I just shrugged it off.
I knew there were extenuating circumstances (some lady-related, some salty-travel-food related) and I had to make allowances for that. I spent a second blaming the wobbly scale at the Weight Watchers Store, too.
But when it comes down to it, no amount of negative thought, or panic is going to get rid of those extra 2.2 pounds.
So like Arthur Dent, I’m going to keep my towel handy. Not ready to throw it in yet.
Where has this newfound calm come from? Perhaps the knowledge that I am about to reach the age where I will learn the answer to life, the universe, everything.
On Sunday, I shall turn 42.
This is, definitively, the nerdiest thing I’ve ever written.