Kristy Kelly: When your weight-loss plan needs a welder
Needing a welder to lose weight was not on my 2025 bingo card, I admit—but alas, here we are.
Let me start at the beginning. This weird journey began when I found out that, thanks to insurance, I can’t be one of the cool kids taking those new miracle weight-loss shots. Like so many others, I was disappointed—especially after watching my sisters melt away pounds and look happier than ever.
So, I did what any reasonable, slightly delusional adult would do. I picked up a temporary second job. The plan was simple: replace the kayak my son lost and finally buy the electric trike I’d been eyeing for six months. I was going to get back on the water and, for the first time in years, ride a bike with my grandkids. It was movement. It was a start.
Except my life is a joke, and I’m the punchline.
The kayak came first. I was thrilled. Nothing makes me happier than paddling alone with nature, and this shiny new blue kayak was a promise of that peace. I loaded it into my car and headed for the Neuse River.
Unfortunately, the three-feet-deep Neuse River did not share my enthusiasm. I could have walked across it without getting my knees wet. After a few minutes of grumbling, I packed my kayak back into the car and went home. Fine. The bike would be here soon.
When the trike finally arrived, I was ecstatic. I may have needed a degree in mechanical engineering to assemble it, but I did it—mostly. It took up half my living room and loomed like a gleaming monument to my optimism. That’s when I realized a new problem: I couldn’t actually get on it.
It was enormous. I’d wanted an easy way to ride with my grandkids, not a mountaintop challenge with pedals I couldn’t reach.
After a few test rides from taller family members, the verdict was in: “It’s too big for you, but we can fix it. We’ll just weld the seat post down a few inches and get you a new seat.”
Excuse me? You want me to hire a welder to modify a brand-new, $1,100 electric trike that isn’t broken—I’m just too short? Absolutely not. We don’t waste money in this house like that. The bike is perfectly fine for everyone else. Girl math says I’ll wait until Black Friday and buy one made for people with short, elf-sized legs.
So now I have a kayak that’s never touched water, a tricycle that looks gorgeous in the living room, and chafed thighs from walking a single mile—twice.
I can promise you two things:
That kayak will one day carry my overweight, exhausted body down the river again.
If being overweight doesn’t kill me, trying to lose it surely will.
At this point, I should have just stuck with tradition and kept paying for a gym membership I don’t use—like everyone else.
PS: I received a gentle reminder that it had been far too long since I wrote a column. Thank you, Susan, for loving my words enough to want more.
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