Last night I went to my friend Kate’s birthday/costume party at a local karaoke bar. I dressed as the Blue Power Ranger, but some dude at the bar asked if I was a character from Rainbow Brite. “I wish I were,” I said. My sister and I used to be all about that show.

Maybe next year.

Six weeks ago I started intermittent fasting and generally trying to be healthy. Well, you may find this hard to believe, but the karaoke bar was not serving cold-pressed juices. (Unless, of course, you count vodka as potato juice.) Likewise, Kate’s cookie cake was not made from almond flour. What I’m saying is that I broke a lot of my rules at Kate’s party. I drank vodka. I ate A LOT of cookie cake, fried mozzarella sticks, and–later on the way home–Taco Bell. Oh my gosh, how I’ve missed these things. Alas, my body has apparently not missed these things. When I woke up this morning I was gunky and felt like poop. I hate that choices have consequences. Of course, I’m sure all the secondhand smoke at the bar did not help.

Fortunately, I’ve felt better as the day has progressed. I’ve been drinking a lot of water and hot tea. This evening I took a nap. This is the deal when you either accidentally or (as in my case) purposefully fall off The Healthy Living Wagon–you don’t beat yourself up and you don’t stay off the wagon; you just get right back on. One night of indulgence may have its consequences, but it’s not the end of the world. I’ve lost eight to ten pounds in the last six weeks, and I didn’t gain them back last night just because I ate half of Kate’s cookie cake and two mozzarella sticks. That’s not how this stuff works.

It’s funny how we want to lose some things (like our fat asses) but don’t want to lose others. This evening while unpacking from my house sitting gig this weekend, I realized I’ve lost one of my favorite rings. And whereas I’ve looked in all the usual places I put it, I haven’t been able to find it. I hate that. I’ve had that ring for over ten years and wear it almost every week.

Of course, chances are the ring will show up. It always has anytime I’ve lost it before. That being said, tonight I’ve been thinking, What if this is it, what if it’s time to say goodbye? This weekend I’ve learned that a number of friends have had loved ones die recently. The loss of a ring is clearly nothing compared to the loss of a person, and perhaps that’s the point. But whether it’s the loss of a cherished object or the loss of a cherished person, sooner or later we have to let go. Nothing in the physical world lasts forever.

Having willfully given up a number (most) of my physical possessions, honestly, makes losing things easier. Not easy, per say, but easier, since whenever you willfully let go of your attachment to one thing you consequently let go of your attachment to all things. Tonight I’ve been thinking, If my ring really is lost, how big of deal do I want to make this? What I mean is, How miserable do I want to make myself? It’s fine to feel sad over a loss, of course, I just know there’s little point in my creating an isn’t-it-awful drama about a lost ring when almost everything else in my life is going well. It’s just a ring.

Earlier after I wrote about being mistaken for a Rainbow Brite character (Buddy Blue), I went down a childhood memory rabbit hole and downloaded all the songs from the 1984 Rainbow Brite album. (The link is to a ZIP file.) In one song called “The Pits,” Murky and Lurky, the two bad guys who want to suck all the color and life out of Rainbow Land, sing, “Accentuate the negative and be a pessimist, no better place for griping than The Pits.” If you want to put yourself in a bad mood, this is the formula to follow–look on the dark side, complain. Conversely, if you want to put yourself in a good mood, Rainbow Brite suggests using your “wits to keep away The Pits.” To me this means using your mind to shift the way you see anything negative in your world. This is what therapy has done for  me, not shielded me from bad days and loss, but rather helped me change my perspective about these things.