60! Sixty. S-I-X-T-Y! Of course I went for the second opinion, what would you do in my place? And of course I had to accept the merciless outcome: sixty. It's been long since I was confronted with this number. Fifteen years passed and now it suddenly showed its face again. It happened so quickly. Just a month ago (or maybe even less) my scales were showing 56. I still fit in my Diesel and Levi's size 27, but it's kind of hard.
"I have to tell you something. Do you know how much I weigh now? Sixty kg!"
"Is it much or little?"
"I hear you. I actually like it. Your hips are so beautifully round."
"!!! I have to get rid of at least four kg."
"You have a very beautiful body."
"I have to dance more and have more sex."
"I will gladly help you with both! I do love your body the way it is now, though."
No, I am not going on a diet. I am going to act according to common sense. If I need to eat more in order to gain weight, then I probably have to eat less in order to lose some of it. I've done it before (fifteen years ago), I know it works. But still this number makes me feel uncomfortable.