Skinny shoulders, Healthy Saddle Bags

So I've heard the adage that the last place you gained weight is the first place you will lose it and the first place where you gain it is the last place where you lose it. What a horrible sentence. Sheesh.

Anyway, I don't know how true that is, but I have been noticing an odd pattern. I've worked out for eight straight days in a row and I have lost about 3-4 pounds so far. So naturally, I have been examining the terrain to see from whence the fat has departed. As far as I can tell, it has all come from only one area. My shoulders.

I was standing in the bathroom last night changing into my jammies and happened to look into the mirror at the right time to see an odd bone protruding out of my shoulder. I poked at it. I poked at the other side. I turned to and fro. Surely enough, they were looking downright scrawny with their boney protrusions. I called in Andy to confirm that I wasn't just hallucinating this. "Yep, that's a skinny shoulder," he agreed.

Now weight loss is weight loss, and I know I ought not complain, but really, my shoulders? This seems terribly unfair. My shoulders have never had cellulite. They have never formed rolls when I sat just so. They have never wobbled gelatinously when I poked at them. Why should they feel like they needed to lose weight? My saddle bags on the other hand need to lose weight desperately, but I sense that they will require some "persuasion."

Here are some of the solutions that didn't make the cut.

Plan 1. Bribe a line cook at Denny's to let me rest my saddle bags on a hot griddle until some of the lumps melt off. Sautee lightly on both sides and serve with a squeeze of lemon.

Plan 2. Poke holes in saddle bags with one of the boy's sharpened colored pencils. Turn blow-up bed pump to "deflate" and stick it into aformentioned colored pencil punctures. Repeat as many times as needed.

Plan 3. Brandish a wheel of brie cheese near saddle bags and see if fat-starved fat cells will leap out from under skin to consume brie cheese. Crackers optional.

Plan 4. Offer two first class tickets to French Riviera to saddle bags. Explain such terms as "bechamel sauce" and "croissant" to them in hopes that they will depart for greener pastures, or at least someone else's thighs.

Plan 5. Sharpen kitchen knives and practice technique for slicing sashimi, removing saddle bags in thin slices so they don't catch on until it's too late.

Plan 6. Drink V-8.


Oh well. It looks like I'm just going to have to settle for doing more squats and lunges. *Sigh*

Cyndi

PS. Sorry for the slightly cannibalist undertones of the above proposed solutions. I've been listening the Hannibal book during my commute and I think it may be marinating my brain. Whoops. There I go again.