The best of times, the worst of times.

Four days ago – December 7, 2021 – was the 80th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. But for me personally, December 3, 2021 was a day that will live in infamy. After almost 3 years of sedentary life (one due to a severe hamstring strain and almost 2 years of "work from home" COVID quarantine), last Friday, I found myself at my highest weight ever. I also found myself heading for Austin, Texas, to collect a prestigious lifetime achievement award for my contributions to Continuing Legal Education.

Zoom court hearings, oral arguments and speeches cover all manners of weight indiscretions. Pants too tight? Don’t wear them. Shirt too tight? Don’t button the bottom few buttons. Belt too tight? Cut another notch on it. After almost 3 years of sedentary “living”, the only garments that were not too tight were my tie and my handkerchief. Even my socks felt tight.

And so it was that on that day, I managed to cobble together enough professional clothes that were sufficiently load-rated to withstand my record-high girth for the few hours necessary. It was also when I saw myself on a 5-minute video of the award presentation ceremony and thought, “crap, I got really, really fat.”

I could have let the disappointment, anger and depression that I felt for myself and over my circumstances propel me to even greater heights of gluttony. Instead, I pulled “Scott's Greatest Hits” off the myfitnesspal shelf. In my case, that consisted of my healthy recipes and eating diaries I had accumulated each time I had lost significant amounts of weight over the past several years. I also dragged myself to Costco to trudge up and down the aisles three times this past week. One week later, I am down 10 pounds.

Yes, I know that many of those pounds are bloat and water weight. Yes, I know I cannot and will not sustain that rate of loss week in and week out. Yes, I know that a 10 pound weight loss is a minor victory given the 200 more pounds (give or take) that I need to lose to regain a healthier future. But none of that matters to me right now. I grabbed a ten pound sack of our cats’ food. No, I didn’t eat it. I considered the heft of what I was no longer carrying around on my body for WHATEVER reason. It was substantial. And to be honest, I do feel more energy and more desire to move around than I did one week and ten pounds ago.

And so it is that I sit here feeling satisfied after consuming my bowl of All-Bran Buds, fresh blackberries, and fat-free milk, cup of coffee with fat-free half and half, and Vitamin C gummies. Eight days ago, that probably would have been three fried eggs, several patties of pork sausage, and a bagel or toast. But we live, and hopefully we learn. For now, I have.

I will make no promises about where I go from here weight-wise and fitness-wise. At the ripe old and corpulent age of 60, I know better than that. I will only say that as I sit here in the gray, cool, and quiet of a Houston, Texas, early Saturday morning, I am proud of myself for having the courage to get back on the horse once more. I just hope I didn’t hurt him.