Perhaps Roy Clark's song says it all:

THE TASTE OF LIFE WAS SWEET AS RAIN UPON MY TONGUE.

Late teens and twenties (102 to 105 pounds). Fun years! Cheerleading to homecoming court, sorority to deb, and even a sprinkle of "Miss" titles. Life was good.


THE THOUSAND DREAMS I DREAMED, THE SPLENDID THINGS I PLANNED.

The next twenty years: First bump in the road was years of fertility treatment which wreaked havoc on my weight (without achieving a much wanted baby). Years after the treatments, I fooled the specialists and conceived and complacently settled into the 125 to 130 range.


I NEVER STOPPED TO THINK WHAT LIFE WAS ALL ABOUT...

Until 2007. Four years after graduating from the academy, my daughter volunteered for a 365-day deployment to Afghanistan. I ate my way through the entire year. While my husband lost weight, I gained weight at an alarming rate. When she lost two of her guys in a roadside bombing just before Christmas, I perfected my overindulgence to a new level.


THE TIME HAS COME FOR ME TO PAY FOR YESTERDAY.

No, I'm not blaming my daughter for my weight. I take full responsibility for the consequences. I placed every morsel into my mouth. However, it's time to do something about it.

I'm fortunate to have a loving husband. Not only does he walk with me to help me get back into shape, he even cooks my "special" meals (he's a better cook than I) and measures and weighs every serving for me. Sometimes I think too much love can be a negative thing. Not only does he regularly leave a freshly cut rose on my desk, but I used to find chocolate, a donut, a Starbucks macchiato, or other tokens of affection sitting on my desk (note the past tense on the latter). Oh, wait. Maybe he was trying to kill me off by inducing a diabetic coma.

Soon my hubby and I will dance at our daughter's wedding, and for our daughter:

SO MANY LOVELY SONGS ARE WAITING TO BE SUNG.