A Simple Universal Rule

Mmm, Hendrick's martini. Not shown - two garlic stuffed olives that I'd already eaten. YUM.

Yesterday I headed to Simcoe to celebrate my dad’s 70th birthday. As expected, it was a night filled with excellent food, wine, scotch, and laughter. It was also a rather late night, and to be perfectly honest I’m amazed that I wasn’t hungover today. I mean, I felt pretty happy after my first glass of wine1, and that was well before I had even considered the requisite birthday martinis and birthday scotch.

Okay – maybe birthday martinis and scotch weren’t required, but who am I to argue when our waitress basically insists that I order one?2

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Before I made my way to Simcoe for the festivities, I decided that I’d wander over to the Stone Road Mall on a quest to find something new to wear. After picking up some Starbucks – also known as shopping fuel – I headed to Le Chateau. There I found myself a nice new shirt and vest to go with the jeans I was wearing. As has been the case over the past year or two, whenever I’ve purchased new clothes I’ve always started off by selecting something about 2 sizes too large. Yesterday was no exception. Long story short, I finally found myself trying on the slim-fit extra small stuff3. And despite the initial sizing issue, I was quite happy with the result. You know when you buy something and just feel awesome in it – I was that guy yesterday.

When we finally arrived in Simcoe, the first thing my mom said to me was Please stop losing weight4. Whenever I hear this I have to remind whomever is saying it that I’m not trying to lose weight – because I’m not – and that I’m healthy – because I am. Furthermore, I was confident that I hadn’t lost any weight.

I insisted Mom, I haven’t lost any weight.

You have. I can see it in your face. You’re so thin.

In the limo on the way to dinner.

It probably didn’t help that the new clothes I bought for the occasion were extra small and form fitted.

Regardless, I insisted that I hadn’t lost weight. And I still felt like a million bucks in my new clothes.

This immediately led to a challenge: the next I was at my parents’ house I had to get on the scales. My mom even wanted to be present to make sure I didn’t lie to her about my weight. I laughed and agreed – knowing deep down that I had this challenge wrapped up. In fact, in my mind it wasn’t even a challenge. Although, I did tell her there was no need for her to be present for the reading because why would I lie about my weight?

Sooooo, flash forward to this the morning-after-the-night-before. Aidan and I had crashed at our parents’ place last night. After waking up, I walked to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. The first thing I saw was the scale. I smirked to myself. Giddily I turned it on (it’s one of those fancy-pants electronic scales) knowing full well it was going to say that I was 147 or higher. I jumped on.


What the what?

I knew this had to be a mistake. I went downstairs to the other bathroom which has one of the non-electronic scales.



I was gobsmacked.

Being the statistical type of person I am, I took the average of these two weights and very quickly realized that I’d somehow managed to lose 10 pounds since Christmas. Crikey! I’m not sure what upset me more – that I had lost weight, or that my mom was right. Dammit. Moms are always right. How could I have forgotten that simple universal rule?

I guess I can’t be terribly surprised that I’ve lost weight given all of the marathon training I’ve been doing. And I guess the weight loss could explain why some of my runs have seemed a bit more sluggish than normal, and why I’m the walking dead after my long runs. But I feel healthy, so I’m not really worried about it.

However, the weight loss does suggest that I might not be fueling properly – something I have mentioned previously in other posts – so I’m going to have to redouble my efforts on this front. I mean, I still have another half marathon and a 10 miler to run this month, and 2 marathons scheduled for next month. Fueling could mean the difference between finishing, and finishing but feeling like a bag of smashed-ass. I’d much rather finish strong.

In light of all of this, I’m going to go make myself a deep-fried gravy, butter, and bacon sandwich with a side order of bacon-crusted bacon-wrapped back bacon5. That should make up for some of the Calories I’m missing. 🙂

And of course mom – if you are reading this – date squares would really help with this weight loss thing. Just sayin’.

1 Likely a combination of being a light-weight, and also having just run a half marathon.

2 Clearly the phrase insists that I order one means that she enquired if I would like a drink. In my defence, I was already 1 glass of wine drunk, so my logic and decision-making abilities were highly suspect. Regardless, the martinis and scotch were delicious, and I probably should be suffering for my choices today.

3 Extra small. Crazy. Just over 2 years ago I’d have been trying on the large clothes. It’s amazing the difference a little hernia and some running can make.

4 She has been very concerned since day 1 of the hernia because, well, she’s my mom and that’s what mom’s do. Also, I did lose a lot of weight in a not-so-healthy way; her concern was clearly justified.

5 Okay, I won’t lie. A side order of bacon-crusted bacon-wrapped back bacon is making me drool just a little.


4 Comments Add yours

  1. Ruthbug says:

    This part made me laugh ‘I’m not sure what upset me more – that I had lost weight, or that my mom was right. Dammit. Moms are always right.’

    So true!

    1. dangillis says:

      It’s true – they are. It’s like they have some sort of sixth sense. Dammit! LOL. Thanks for reading & following 🙂

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