For the longest time I could never remember the difference between "waxing" and "waning". I knew one meant getting larger and the other getting smaller, and I knew the moon was always doing either one or the other, but I could never remember which was which.
I now, finally, have my means for keeping them straight.
We (and by "we", I mean my beyonce' Erika and I) were discussing waxing and waning with an astronomy enthusiast one night. He attempted to explain it in a way I would remember, but it wasn't sticking. But when Erika commented that "waxing" was exactly what I've been complaining about my body doing too much of lately, it stuck.
Waxing=Bad. Waning=Good.
About me:
I was one of those people who had a nice (not great, but nice) body in college that I took for granted. When older friends and family members would warn of the ever-slowing metabolism as you approach your 30s, I scoffed. That won't happen to me, I thought. I'm special.
Over the course of the past eight years or so, my body has indeed waxed, but slowly enough that I always convinced myself I could lose it if I really tried. But "really trying" meant giving up things like beer and cake, and I wasn't ready for that kind of commitment.
Ten or twelve pounds later, I found myself inadvertantly telling Erika how bulbous my belly was, or how much I resembled an orca. (Ten or twelve pounds may not sound like much to you, but I'm really short so it was enough to notice.) I exercised regularly but ate like crap and didn't have the motivation to do otherwise. That is, until the fateful day when I proposed to Erika and it sunk in that there was going to be a wedding and I would have to fit into a pretty dress and be photographed.
My life changed.
My diet changed.
My exercise regimen changed.
And my new motto is...tri not to wax.
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