Like Buttah

I measure lost pounds in sticks of butter. Last month, I lost eight pounds. That is eight boxes of butter, thirty-two sticks. I see the sticks lined up like fenceposts, like street lamps along the road. The road is long, with sixteen sticks on each side. The boxes stack in a pyramid, not quite perfectly. I need more boxes to make the pyramid stable, but I am still proud.

I can relate to sticks of butter. I can picture what I want to lose. A stick for the upper arm, maybe two, one quarter-pound each. Each thigh could take two, the stomach six. I add them up as I go. Another ten boxes should do it. Another ten will make it right. This means forty more sticks. I've already lost thirty-two. I can do another forty. Why not?

I imagine the pounds of butter melting away. This imagery works for me. It also sounds kinky. We will not go there.

I think of the people who lose over one hundred pounds and I imagine that number in terms of sticks of butter. The boxes would fill a refrigerator. I am in awe.