Five Cats

I once had a cat that weighed nine kilograms. This is a normal weight for some breeds if they are either large-framed or extremely athletic. He was both.

At my lowest weight, I remember realising that I weighed the same as five cats.

Five cats.

It doesn’t seem like much when you say it that way.

But it was more than enough. And still, too much.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been gaining or losing weight. Maintenance is an unknown concept. An undefined experiment. An unnatural state.

I hate my current weight — I hate this stagnation, this stability.

Stability. I spit the word out, the way I used to spit out my dinner. It’s really code for failure.

But if you are not recovering, you are dying. So I close my eyes, inhale, and focus.

I can weigh six cats. I want to weigh six cats.

No, that’s a lie. I only want to weigh five and a half cats.

But how the hell do you halve a cat?!


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