(I’ve now lost 127.8 pounds!)

The time is now.

Last weekend was a whirlwind of old things made new again, with new experiences peppering the rest. I admit I feared the many things we had planned for the weekend, even though I was the instigator for a few of them; I often have to fight a tendency to be a hermit, especially when I’m having bad arthritic days.

Last week was our county fair. I live in a small town with an equally small county fair. We haven’t visited the last couple of years, because frankly, I couldn’t get around that well and the fairground is just a field most of the year. Grass, dried up low spots where mud puddles once lived, soft ground in the stables, weathered and uneven concrete landings and walkways — it’s treachery for those of us with mobility issues, and I live in fear of falling.

I’ve lost… myself! This is me, around age 18 or so. I was around a third of my starting weight for this journey; I was also about a third of my current age.

But… I wanted two things: a caramel apple with nuts on it, and a carnival ride. I haven’t had either one in years, and while caramel apples aren’t exactly a diet item, I occasionally plan on enjoying things like this. Sure, I could make my own, but I didn’t want to! It’s not like I needed supplies to make a dozen, after all. The carnival ride was a bonus, because I’d feared being turned away because of my size, or not being able to be securely belted on the ride.

I knocked out both of those Friday night. I’m a ride demon once again, even if it was just one ride; that’s all I needed to remember the joy of paying money to be spun so dizzy I can’t see straight for a few moments. (Seriously, aren’t we just a bit crazy for doing that?) I bought my caramel apple and carefully transported it home to enjoy later in the weekend since I don’t deviate from my plan during the week.

Saturday, we had plans to attend a house concert in the afternoon — something neither my husband or I had done previously. At the last minute, though, both of us ended up serving as KCBS judges on Saturday, before the concert. If you’re unfamiliar with KCBS, it’s the Kansas City Barbeque Society  and they sanction barbeque competitions across the country. Without getting into too much detail, it meant I’d be sitting in with certified judges and judging barbeque chicken, ribs, pork, and brisket. In all, twenty-five samples crossed in front of me, and I had to have at least a bite of each one. They were judged on appearance, taste, and tenderness.

I admit that I did this somewhat begrudgingly. For someone who’s been on a three-year journey to losing weight, being asked to judge a food competition is — well — just a bit ludicrous! I’m used to knowing exactly what I’m putting in my mouth, but there was no way to know; it was a double-blind competition. It’s not as if I could review a list of ingredients for each sample while the other five judges at my table waited on me. I couldn’t simply discard something because it had honey in it, for instance.

But sometimes — you have to choose to live in the moment and take it for what it is. I did that. I had a bite of everything put in front of me. For the most part, the entries were tasty; there were a few exceptions, but there always are. A master judge that sat beside me and led me through the process even commented that my method of eating likely gives me an advantage as a volunteer judge, because I eat mindfully. (The table did have a good laugh, though, at having someone at the table who’s been on a diet for three years and judging barbeque.)

I don’t know who won or if I tasted their entry, because we just don’t know that information; it was a room of nearly thirty judges, and it was carefully engineered so we would never taste entries from the same contestant twice. In all, I’m glad I got roped into it, even though I initially resisted; it was an interesting experience. My only regret: twenty-five bites of meat is still a lot of meat, and some, I did have more than one bite; either because they were good and I wanted to taste it again, or because they had several cuts of meat in one entry. Between that, crackers to cleanse the taste of the meat, and plenty of water, I didn’t feel all that great later in the day.

The house concert was marvelous, followed by even more activities on Sunday. I woke up Sunday morning, silently dreading stepping on the scale; believe me when I say that even one bite of those meats ends up being A LOT of food — and a lot of whatever they used to prepare it. Amazingly, the number on the scale wasn’t bad at all. Sometimes my body is more forgiving of deviances from the norm; a couple weeks ago, I could have eaten a lettuce leaf and gained weight. This past weekend was the opposite.

This was a learning experience for me. Sometimes I need to just let go of what I fear, and do something for the heck of it. Occasionally, doing a manual override of all the “buts!” that line up when considering something different is the best thing I can do. I don’t ignore warning flags; no, I’m speaking of the voices that remind me of things that don’t really matter in the long run. People are silently judging me because I’m fat and I’m judging a food contest. I don’t know what I might eat that might trigger my appetite. Is this going to make me late to the event we planned afterward? As it turned out, I didn’t need to worry about any of those things.

Choosing to live in the moment also means discarding history that works against me at times like this. We couldn’t find a decent (or free) parking space at the fair, and I almost opted to go on home — but I know I would have missed out on that ride (and the apple!). I could have chosen not to do the judging, and found something to do for a few hours while my husband participated, but it was a fascinating process and the only dietary fallout I had was late that night when the meat sat heavy on my stomach.

I also could have said no to the last opportunity to swim outside on Sunday, but I would have missed spending time with great friends, enjoying the last warm day of the season, and I probably would have escaped the sunburn on the back of my neck. (I should have remembered the sunscreen. Oops!) How often do we get to swim in late September?

Life is a series of choices. Always choosing the easiest option is pretty boring. Sometimes, you have to take that chance and see where it leads you — and then move on to the next.