About 3 months ago, I learned about a five-year All-Bands Reunion this coming July for those of us who were students under a particular high school band director. Most of my friends were in band, and I’d like to go.
Complication: I'd like to lose about 50 lbs. Unlike my friends and family who have been part of my day-to-day life for these past (cough-cough) 25 years, and have seen me morph from a naive teenager to a bawdy, “Foghorn Leghorn” broad, “I say--I say”, my high school band-mates have only a “THEN” versus “NOW” perspective.
They are in for quite a fright if they remember me at age 18.
Still—there’s reason to hope. Points in my favor include the full 90 days ahead and the good possibility that they (like me) don’t see very well anymore. In the dark of the evening, in the blur of an alcohol-induced haze, I could look like a goddess.
I’m usually not very good at this “anticipated event” type pressure dieting, but I have done it. Weddings, for instance, are great motivators in my family. I once went on this crazy “9 Diet” in preparation for “Maid of Honor” duties. You eat 9 Bananas on day 1, 9 eggs on day 2, and 9 hot dogs on day 3, then 3 of each on the 4th. I ran out and bought a bunch of bananas and at the time, knew nothing about fruit ripeness. Did YOU know you can’t even swallow green bananas? I didn’t. I’m too old for fad diets, although I know a lot more about fruit than I used to.
A big hindrance to achieving my goal is my Achilles Heel “Sports-Injury”—my very first, of which I am proud-- which flares up and inhibits my ability to walk, run, jog…basically do anything that involves my feet. So the inspiration I felt watching 4 full months of “The Biggest Loser” is for naught. My exercise regime now consists of weekly water aerobics and sitting on a giant flexi-ball at my computer desk (I’m on one now).
Another factor is my body itself. I have gained and dropped weight SO MANY times during my lifetime time that I am truly afraid one of these days my skin is just going to fall off me in a heap, like a big suit.
“There,” it would say,
“Find a pantsuit that flatters THAT!”
And slither off.
As of today, I haven’t started my diet yet and I haven’t lost an ounce. With the forthcoming reunion less than a month away, it would seem the only realistic way of losing 50 lbs. now, at this late date, is by having things cut off me and placed on a meat scale.
“We still need another 17 lbs., Dr. Jones, lop off another leg.”
Although--coming back in a wheelchair wouldn’t be bad, because I could cover myself up with a blanket….(I’m just being silly now)
But since that probably won’t happen, I need a new scheme to look 50 lbs thinner.
-I could fake being pregnant. But it would be JUST my luck that as revenge for dishonesty on that level, life would strike me like a lightening bolt and make me pregnant. Pass.
-I could make up a name and walk amongst the crowd. This would also be a good test to see how popular I was. I could say,
“Hey, has anyone seen Heidi?”
“You know, that tall French Horn player?”
“Never heard of her.”
But—HELLO! Wouldn’t it be an excellent idea to have a Masquerade Reunion? We could re-meet as other objects or famous people from history, rather than folks who time, or food addiction, has favored or disfavored over the years. Personally, I think I’d make a great, giant salt shaker. The “A” line shape flatters a size “WOW.” I’ve got good legs too. Maybe I could go as a corn dog or a flamingo. Or a gumdrop.
In the masquerade, everyone would be on a level playing field. No judging body shape, seeing who’s got cold sores or wrinkles. We’d just all be people….dressed up like condiments and things. I like the idea. Any seconds?