This weight loss journey has familiar stops, like the bus I rode downtown when we lived on Patterson Avenue fifty seven years ago.

I’ve lost weight before, then over the years gained it back. My first effort was in 2006, when I was 55. I simply changed what I ate, reducing the fat and the sugar. The weight dropped steadily. My goal weight was attained. I felt great. This whole process happened a second, maybe a third time.

And then… I felt empty inside. I wanted that empty feeling to leave and sugar and fat helped fill it. The same familiar stops on the same long trip.

Even though I’m 72, I want to feel sexy and loved. My body, scarred as it is, is responding to new foods, just as I learn to cook new dishes. Vegetables are now my “friends”. Their exotic names rutabaga, butternut and acorn squashes, kale, arugula, for starters, have a poetic sound.

Doing new things follow the new outlook. I’m reading again and watching new genres of film, particularly silent movies and film noir.

And I’m throwing out stuff, as if there’s a new life starting for me and I no longer need the books and the clothes that formed the old character I crafted as I rode that bus downtown.