Sold my body to the devil

You know, I was worried about many things when coming to college; making friends, classes, missing home. But the one thing I really wasn't worried about was gaining the freshman 15. Don't get me wrong. I am so definitely not one of those people who can eat whatever they want whenever they want and not gain a single pound (Although Britt has offered many times to give me that trait...as long as I give her my red hair). However, I was not worried about gaining weight.

After a bad first week or so of late night popcorn and such I was struck by some encouragement. The rec center was hosting a free week where you could try out different classes for free (under other circumstances you must buy a membership which run rather expensive). So Twila, Marissa, and I spent an entire week doing a different class almost every day. Now that the eighth week of school is about over I am noticing that not only have I not gained weight, but I have actually lost weight! Go figure. I know what you're thinking now, "All of this babbling on was just so she could brag about losing some weight?" But that is just mean and ridiculous because we all know that weight means nothing and looks don't matter (Hence why all women and some men worry about it so much). So that is not why I have written this blog entry.

While looking in the mirror (and no I don't constantly check myself out if that's what you're thinking) I noticed that I do not really look all that much skinnier. In fact, in my opinion my stomach (or pouch as I like to call it) is just the same size, if not bigger than it was before I came to college. I notice that instead of losing "the pouch" that I have come to accept as impossible to get rid of unless I work out, I have actually lost what my sister keeps referring to as "inches." I have not only come to realize that "inches" means the space above my hips or love handles, but I realize that I can't notice a difference in them whatsoever. Only when Marissa says, "You've lost inches" do I take the time to look at the mirror and try to figure out what the heck she is talking about. So I don't know how that works, but apparently I have lost them.

After calculating in my head that this weight I've lost couldn't possibly have all come from losing inches (and it certainly didn't come from "the pouch") I began to consider where else the weight might have come from. And alas, I realize that my already small chest (which I don't usually complain about because it's not really that important) is in fact smaller. How fair is that?! I realize that if you lose weight you should just be happy that you lost it and not complain, but it's like selling your body to the devil.

Devil: Yes, you can lose weight, but you're going to have to give me something in return.
Me: Yes, take whatever you want. Just let me lose weight!
Devil: Alright, it's a deal. Sign here. (I sign)

After a week or so...

Me: Wow the scale says I lost a few pounds...but I still look the same...
Devil: Yes, but look. You've lost inches.
Me: What the heck are inches? They don't do anything...Whoa, why is my bra a tad more lose?
Devil: What? I promised you'd lose weight! And you said I could take whatever I want...

So through my own experiences I have come to two conclusions. 1. If you want to lose "the pouch" and not the chest then don't be like me. Go exercise! 2. The devil is sick sick man...

Just something to think about. Peace out!

Katherine