Ramblings Post #132
We talk about life changes all the time. We promise to make them, make elaborate plans to set them in motion, pity those who are in the same spot and dream about how life will be once we've embarked on that mission of change. Then if we're smart, we stop the whole process and start over never accomplishing anything. Because sometimes, you get what you ask for. And that's when you find out you had no idea what you wanted.
Many weeks ago, I joined a cult.
Okay, I joined a "weight loss" program that was going to help me manage my habits. I'm a big carb eater, so I really needed something beyond the two weeks of low carbs that usually knocks of 10 quick pounds and fakes me out into believing I'd done something. So I paid a whole bunch of money, and headed on down to the program.
I'm currently 11 pounds ahead of the program schedule for where I should be.
I wish I could say that this is due to my strict regimen and adherence to the principles of the program, but this is rather in spite of my own actions of subtle sabotage. I did break down and have a pancake brunch one weekend. I'll occasionally snack on a dry bowl of Frosted Flakes. I still use some actual sugar. I've had the occasional cookie and brownie when out and about. But it despite all that, the weight is still coming off! My best week...well, the week after I had the pancake brunch and put some weight back on, I took off eight pounds for a net gain of three overall.
I'm starting to look swallowed by my clothes. There are lines on my face I don't recognize...because they used to be filled in with fat! I'm that far from not having a gut, but just a pudge.
It's an odd sensation. That look from the side I used to always think was a set of push ups away is looking closer and closer to a possibility. Only now...
...my mind is asking what happens when it's over? What do you do when you get there?
I entered this with no real belief the damn thing would work. Okay, I'd lose a few pounds, but I figured I would cave in a couple of weeks and chalk it up to a good effort. Now I'm actually doing it, and am coming along pretty good, so now I'm concerned about what happens at the end. I like food. It took me fifteen years to learn how to make my grandmother's biscuits, and one day when I can get the crust right the sweet potato pie will be mine too. Thanksgiving dinner with the family is like ....*sigh*. I would like a slice of pizza. A meatball sub. Some ice cream. A burger and fries. Ribs. If I get to the end and it calls for me NEVER really enjoying these things again...we're going to have a problem.
Sweet Potato pie tastes as good as being thin feels.
A lot of things taste as good a being thinner than I was feels. All total, since I've started I've lost 35 or so pounds. It is noticeable. I'm trying to lose somewhere in the neighborhood of 60. It is doable I see now.
But is being thinner enough of a reward in and of itself? Okay, part of this was feeling better health wise, and part of it was a number of the comments friends had made that I was a great guy, just not physically attractive. Well, if I get to physically attractive...and this chick was checking me out the other week.... what does that mean? I've used the weight as an excuse for a lot of things over the years and removing your excuses means you got to step up and execute. Yes, I have harbored the secret notion that Sporty will find this immensely pleasing, and no, the reality is it means less than I want to give it weight too. When you get down to the nitty and gritty of it, I'm still a weirdly shy person.
Have I set myself up for failure?
Am I mentally prepared to be thin again?
Barkeep...a thick vanilla shake, with caramel topping and Oreo bits...