New hair cut?

The journey from fat to fit is chock-full of experiences. Happiness and bliss are mere specks in the rear view mirror before anyone notices I have made forward progress. At least I can drive with my pants buttoned up while weeping over the sight of the road ahead filled with a joyless, carbless existence. Hey kids, only 25 more miles until we can stop at the largest air and water buffet west of the Rockies. 

Besides the massive mood swings toward the foul, there has been little change to my body. Even though I have lost 17 pounds at the time of printing, the general population of friends, family, and coworkers won't see much change for 10-15 more pounds. Usually the first roadside indication people are sensing change in my body comes in the form of a cock-eye head hinge. You know that one: eyebrows scrunched, head to the side, as their brain plays the game, "One of these things just doesn't belong here." Stopping midstride in front of a person is unnerving - - especially for the normals. I enjoy those moments, and having no desire to rob them of their satisfaction in solving the puzzle, I just stand there mirroring their hinge and facial expression. They are locked into this awkward moment and I ain't got nowhere to be, so we are taking the ride! Quick, think of something. He ain't saying anything. Why the hell is he standing there head hinging with that stupid face. "Uh, hey Jarvis...uuuuhhh. How's it going? uuuuh... New hair cut?" Even if my head garden has not been pruned by the skilled sheers of a mediocre strip mall stylist in months, the answer is always a resounding, "Yes! And thank you for noticing."

Next stop on the road trip to Destination 195... Dietary one-upmanship by those in the fit clique. Then off to the weight loss equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition -- endless variations of the question, "How did you do it?"