Numbers. I don’t like them. I try to avoid them as much as possible. My brain sort of seizes up under prolonged exposure to them. They are part of the reason that my career in science maybe didn’t go as far as I’d have liked. They are part of the reason my current job has nothing to do with them (although there were health care reform rules published last week which included formulas with numbers and letters in them *shudder*).
Right now though, I seem to have numbers on my mind. My son, my single digit nine year old son, is about to turn double digit ten years old. In two weeks he will go from one number to two. And he will never be a single digit again. I don’t know why this isn’t a hugely important birthday. Why isn’t it a milestone like twenty-one or fifty? Ten. An entire decade. It is breathtaking to me. I am not a baby person. They are sort of needy. Cute but needy. So for me, this nearly ten year old human has managed to steal my heart and amaze me. We sometimes fight like crazy but mostly I find him to be quite incredible. He has a wicked sense of humor and his personality bursts out of him. I can honestly say that I love him more than just about anything. We will be celebrating ten in style because it is a big and important birthday. Besides, the poor kid kind of gets gypped every year with a birthday the week before Christmas.
The other number on my mind is more elusive and much smaller. It is five. I have been using an app on my phone to track my food for about a month and a half. When I first started, I was taking all of my accrued exercise calories so that I could eat more. And I wasn’t losing any weight. Now I really don’t take a lot of stock in the number. I much prefer to gauge my weight based on how I feel and how my clothes fit. But I made a pact with my co-worker that entailed Monday weigh-ins. We would get together and discuss results but there was never full disclosure. That worked for me. But the scale didn’t move. I tracked and exercised and boot camped and the number didn’t budge. Until I stopped taking those exercise calories. And it seems to be working now. For the past two weeks, my scale has said that I’ve lost some weight. But I don’t want to talk about it. I am afraid to say the number out loud. To admit it. I am certain if it hears, it will spring back like it was never really gone. Or that if I turn around too quickly, I will find that it is lurking right behind me. Attached to my ass. I am just afraid that it is not really true. Although, it might be true since two people have asked me if I have lost weight. I just can’t say yes. But it may be true. Shhh, I can’t talk about it…..those five pounds just might hear you.