My thoughts have been all over the place this week. When nothing specific challenges me on any given day, I am always intrigued by how brainwaves get filtered into nonsensical tangents of absurdity.
This past week my best friend and I were engaging in the often-addressed topic of weight. Most of you know these conversations intimately. We talked of plateaus, water retention, and why cookies have to taste so much better than celery when all of a sudden it hit me.
Why do we allow this topic to have control over so many thoughts, feelings, worries, and actions? I understand that health is paramount to the quality of life, and we do actually feel better when we weigh less, but the intensity of it all is laughable to me.
I currently weigh less than I have in the last 20 years – a lot less. It started with the onset of gallbladder surgery last year, and I have persevered diligently to lose even more. Most of you know where this is headed.
It is hard – no, it is next to impossible – to lose weight and maintain it on a consistent basis the older we get. No surprises here, Einstein. Our activity levels tend to diminish as well, adding to the dramatic change in the body’s physiology and chemistry.
So why are we obsessed with it? Why isn’t being ‘sensible’ enough? I have only so much time left for love and laughter. Should I not just enjoy it as opposed to worrying about it? I honestly doubt that ten pounds will truly change my self-image. Maybe I need an intervention.
And just as quickly as the wind changes direction, I was off on another tangent.
Last week I hung a hummingbird feeder right outside of my office window and have been waiting for those enchanting little creatures to find it. This morning, I watched one stop and circle it, land, and take a long drink.
Then, right on cue, it flew to the window, hovered, and stared at me as if to say thank you before flying back for another sip. It was magical. And so, I thought, “Oh to have such a simple life.”
But who am I to judge their existence? Their lifespan is only three to five years, and they must consume approximately one-half of their weight in sugar daily. On average they feed five to eight times per hour. That hardly computes to simple.
With a heart rate of more than 1,200 beats per minute and wing flaps between 50-200 per second (yes, per SECOND!), these aggressive little gladiators of nature work – as we would say – like a dog just to survive.
I guess all facets of life are subject to interpretation, right? We all fall prey to the fallacies and pitfalls of expectations, be they real or imaginary.
Since these tiny, feathered friends also have big brains and superior memories, I hope my new friend will remember the smile I returned when they so graciously thanked me. Ah, but that is fodder for yet another rant.
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