Aspirational Pants, Fairy Tale Mushrooms and Old Dogs

Something I've noticed about extreme weight loss: it occupies you mentally and physically 24/7. In this way, it's a lot like pregnancy. You may not be actively doing anything at a given moment, but your state of being is totally engrossed in The Thing That is Going On. It has also made me forgetful, just like the pregnancy stupidity that comes over every pregnant woman at one point or another, where you find yourself saying, "I said what?" and "When exactly did I say I wanted the bedroom painted purple?" The latter said, of course when you come home and find that your husband has painted the bedroom for you as an anniversary surprise, and you hate purple.  Really, really hate it. Although apparently not on the day he was actually listening to you for once and decided to act on your wishes. But I digress.

Anyway, the past week, when I haven't blogged, I have waited for repair people (another thing that also can totally absorb you, just like pregnancy) and lost weight. So the two pairs of aspirational pants I ordered because they were on sale and I would eventually hit that size, now fit, two weeks after I received them, which is much sooner than I expected.  Sooner, not in terms of their arrival, but

of my weight redistribution. 

And redistribution is what it is, because five pounds less would not have gotten me into those pants, much less into them and then sitting down, two weeks ago. The first things to visibly reduce when I began this trek, were my hands and feet, followed by my neck.

 I have many cute pairs of shoes that flop off when I walk, and no rings that fit without danger of dropping off. I decided to buy myself a plain gold band as a substitute for my no longer fitting wedding band until I finally settle on a ring size that makes resizing worthwhile. Not that  think I am in any sort of immediate jeopardy from a drooling male population by not wearing a wedding ring, although one of my regular Publix checkers, the one with whom I usually discuss home remodeling and the ins and outs of sheet rock, did say "Lookin' good !" the other day. True,  he is nearly blind and half deaf, but I must admit I was flattered.

Walking twice a day and sweating through all of it has no doubt helped with the pounds lost. I joined a gym as a backup in the meantime, the same one I dropped out of long ago.  My intent was - still is -  to walk there mid - day as well as my neighborhood walks morning and evening, but honestly, who has the time? I can't give up neighborhood walks unless the weather gets truly terrible. The big antlered stag who comes to the edge of the neighbor's lawn in the evening and looks intently up and down the street before crossing into my woods, followed by a doe and two fawns, is worth any inclement weather on earth.  So is the startled and amazed looking chipmunk who popped up on the curb as I approached this morning and then dived into the ivy as I passed, or the somewhat incensed appearing toad, who hopped down the cottage driveway in front of me, to be joined by another, half as large (perhaps barely topping an inch) also dressed in leaf brown  camo. The mix of wildlife on my route is soul stirring.

And there are toadstools. Bright red, polka dotted, fairy tale toadstools, and lavender wildflowers, and, more cultivated, gardenia hedges and rose of sharon trees (who knew they grew that big?)My neighbor dog Molly, dragging her person behind her, thinks it is a race and does her best to stay ahead of me when we happen to take our evening walks at the same time. Molly wins every time, and I don't have to throw the race results, although Molly is an old dog, showing white around her big beagle-y ears. She isn't the only old dog in the race, I guess, but she doesn't know it, and that is indeed a very good thing.