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It's a question only a wrestler could answer.
"How much more do you think wet hair weighs?" I asked my son.
He glanced up from his breakfast burrito, sized up my dripping locks, and quipped, "Three ounces," then took another bite.
"Really?" I muttered as I pushed my wheelchair away from the table, deciding to scoot back to the bathroom to finish what I had started.
I knew he would know. In a sport where weigh-ins to the ounce determine competition eligibility and athletes are often defined to by their weight-class instead of their names, my own 152-pounder has forgotten more weight management techniques in his 12-year career than I will ever learn.
I lost my size 6 figure when I lost my legs to paralysis 14 years ago. I've tried various diets — counted calories, carbs, and sugar; increased fiber and reduced fat — but could not sustain them.
Losing weight is hard, especially with no easy way to weigh-in — stepping on a scale isn't possible when you can't step or stand.
I had wondered, though, did it matter? I wanted to look and feel better, I rationalized three diets ago. Did I need a scale? Wouldn't a measuring tape do?
Not really, I learned.
In the world of paralysis, muscle tone often fluctuates as a result of pain, illness, injury or plain old misfiring neurons or spasms. Measurements can vary by inches — not the best tool for the war on weight.
Finally, I found a place that would weigh me seated in my wheelchair. A ramped floor scale weighed us both, printing a receipt.
The black and white of those numbers was oddly comforting — a digital stake in the ground that defined a beginning.
Slowly the numbers got lower.
After one weigh-in, a fellow attendee held the elevator as I whipped my wheelchair in and spun around.
"You can turn that thing on a dime," she remarked.
"Yes, it's mid-wheel drive," I said, pointing to my power wheelchair's tire location.
"It's great for tight spaces."
I settled into the elevator and then asked, "Have you been coming here long?"
"Oh, only since my son was in high school — and he's now 30!" she laughed.
"This time I didn't tell my husband," she confided. "I've lost 30 pounds, but he didn't notice until I'd lost 20."
