199 pounds. There was a time, a brief one, when was it? Early 70s. No, wait, I was 25 years old, so that would be yeah, 1971. I weighed 145 pounds. I can't imagine ever being that low again. To get there I ate nothing but apricots and very little else part of the time. I don't remember doing a lot of exercise, although for a bit I belonged to Jack LaLanne's health club. They gave rotten advice about diet, pushed a high-protein, high-fat thing like Atkins. I lost weight initially but not later, and I didn't feel good.
The singalong was fun but would have been more fun if I had gone with someone. Maybe I should have called Dorothy or Phyllis. I didn't even place in the costume contest. Rigged!! It seemed like many people were there to snap their fingers and laugh at the outdated language, but ultimately everyone was sucked in. It is such a terrific film. Dancing, music, photography, words, and Natalie Woods in the last scene is unforgettable. It's interesting how strong memories of scenes like that tend to make them seem longer, and when I see them again I am surprised at how quickly they are gone. That scene has the same effect on me as Mimi's dying in La Boheme. Rodolfo crying out, "Mimi!" Gut-wrenching! Except that in West Side Story I also felt anger, not just at the prejudice of the 50s but also the prejudice of today. We haven't progressed at all.
