Originally posted on 5/7/2010
Current mood: determined
Category: Life
Thankfully, I've been talked off the ledge one more time. I'd been growing increasingly frustrated with myself for not being able to lose that last 20 or so pounds. (That's a rough estimate.) I totally switched my whole life around in pursuit of that goal. I don't diet, I give up stuff...like, FOREVER. I haven't eaten refined sugar since April 2005. (It's sad I remember the month and year). Since then, I'd lost more than 80 pounds and kept about 70 of it off. But I'd had a few rough months lately, so I might be off by about a dozen or so pounds. Recently though, in an effort to kick start some serious NEW weight loss, I changed my diet completely. I only "splurge", diet-wise, 2 days a week and STILL, my gut bears a striking resemblance to a keg of beer with skin wrapped around it. And I hate beer! I don't want to hear any nonsense about exercise either. Some people love it, I happen not to. The intense bicep work-out I get every Saturday night from drinking copious amounts of alcohol is the extent of physical activity I plan to exert. Honestly, I'm not much of a scale-watcher but I know what I want to look like in clothes. Actually, the fact that I still look better in my clothes, is the only reason I don't just abandon ship and go back to my old lifestyle. Looking better in my clothes is great but my new goal is to look better in someone else's sluttier clothes. In fairness, it might just be my own warped perception of how I look. Since I've been losing it slow and steady, maybe I'm just not seeing myself clearly. It doesn’t help that I'm still shaped like a top-heavy prepubescent child that has yet to lose that pesky "baby fat". Well, I'm WELL past puberty folks and I'm sick and tired of looking like BBW Barbie! (made by Mattel™) I've been trying to "amp" up my carbs on my free days but there's only so much I can ingest before it starts coming back up...and out. Yesterday on my free day, I got so disgusted with my protruding midsection that I almost cried. Maybe I did cry a little, maybe a lot. The good thing about being a walking, talking ball of complex contractions, is that my overly-logical side sometimes takes over my overly-emotional side, which results in some really good life decisions for me. The solution to my weight loss quandary boiled down to one poignantly simple statement: Either I eat what I want to eat or I look how I want to look. Simple. In all facets of life, you generally have to give up something you like in order to gain something you love♥. (Wow! Another poignantly simple statement right out of my brain!) The problem here is that my sacrifice didn't seem worth the reward. At times, I seem to be giving up more than I'm actually getting. What gives?! Oh wait, this was supposed to be about me being 'talked off the ledge' right? In my mad dash to arrive at work on time, I hurriedly packed a lunch that didn't match my ample appetite. See, I try to snack on 'the right things' often to keep my metabolism up. So I go downstairs to the cafeteria to hit the new Whole Foods™ type antipasto bar. I chose cheese, grilled vegetables and other interesting carb-friendly delectables but I was really "eyeing" that fresh pepperoni pizza they'd just put out. Still, I fill my pitiful plastic container with my dietary-approved items and head back upstairs to my desk. Along the way, I see a good friend that I used to work with and she looked fabulous. It'd been a few years and she hadn't changed at all. I told her that about 3 times during our short chat. As we parted ways, she gives me the body "once over" and says, "Man, you're really keeping that weight off." (She hadn't seen my weighty fall from grace.) I show her my plastic container and pessimistically reply, "I'm trying." I didn't feel it right away, but I became more and more optimistic as I walked back upstairs. Maybe I'm on track after all. Maybe if someone that hasn't seen me in a few years, thinks I look svelte (enough), maybe I'm alright. Maybe. I ate my low carb veggies with more enthusiasm than I had before my chance meeting with her. Her perfectly-timed compliment was just the incentive I needed to keep my chunky train chugging right on out of Chub-Town, of where I currently hold the distinguished honor of mayor. I started feeling strong and empowered again. I'm way too resilient to let a few pudgy plateaus make me forget all the progress I've made! Not today. I know broccoli doesn't taste like bread. I know that a big steaming pot of green beans is nowhere near as delicious as a big steaming pot of pasta. But right now, I can proudly sit at my desk ALL DAY LONG without unzipping my pants once, so I've already won half the battle.
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