My wife eyed me critically Friday morning and said, "You look skinny."
Objectively, I know that I do not, by any stretch of the imagination, look skinny. I'm still bulbous and gourdlike. If I were a woman, folks would probably think I'm about seven months pregnant ... and in dire need of electrolysis and a wig.
My wife didn't mean it in an objective sense, of course. She meant it subjectively. I'm 32 pounds lighter than I was on April 1. She'd noticed the difference.
Knowing that didn't change how I reacted to her comment. I said something like, "No, I don't." I may have ended it with: "I'm fat."
I say things like that every time someone compliments me on my progress. It has nothing to do with modesty; it's about how I see myself.
Last week, I sat down for an interview with Republican gubernatorial candidate Mary Fallin. She praised my efforts as Ken 2.0. I said, "I still have a long way to go."
"You're doing great," she said.
"I hope I can keep it up," I replied.
A day or two later, I ran into one of the newspaper executives in the break room. "How much have you lost so far?" she asked. When I told her I'd lost 32 pounds, she said something positive that ended with an exclamation point and added, "You should be proud."
I said I'm not losing weight quickly enough.