EarthWindFire82 of Memphis

First of all, Roger Ebert is a movie critic. Get it? Got it? Good. MOVIN' ON. I posted a status today about feeling some kind of way.  I had basically spent a few days pondering over the comments made by people on this journey, and today I officially decided to deal with them. The latest comment was someone who "couldn't see" where I had lost 40 pounds.  I'm already fighting my own damn mind on a daily basis, then I hear something like that and end up for real analyzing... I first had to ask what does a forty pound weight loss look like? Is there, like, a gauge for a fat kid's 40 pound drop?  I mean, seriously..is there a key I can use to determine what it looks like?  Well..THIS is 40 pounds: So I lost THIS much. However, it apparently doesn't LOOK like I left this weight somewhere.  Now, I can feel that I'm doing better...and some of my once fitted shirts are now street legal.  So yeah, it IS coming off of something.  Still...

I was kinda leaning towards naming this blog something like "How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Eat the Cake, Anna Mae" but that was wordy as hell. Today, I felt like talmbout one of the biggest elephants in the room. No, not that kale fart, but food.  We already know the lectures about what to eat and what not to eat. I'm talmbout the relationship a person has with food.  One thing I learned in the process of getting right so I won't get left is that I had to really take a retrospective look at how I dealt with food over the years.  I mean, let's just be honest here...unless you have an illness, medical condition or something else, you don't get fat from water.  This means that somewhere along the way, food went from being what I needed for survival and became an evil little sumbitch. Nobody likes to analyze themselves, especially when it doesn't result in some kind of glowing revelation.  It's so much easier and fun to charge shit to the...