In the New Year
For some reason I feel more strongly about promises when I say them outloud, even if I'm essentially talking to myself. So, anyway, I have a few 'resolutions' for next year, but I would like to start with some frank confessions. Too long I have avoided looking in the mirror, or stepping on a scale, or having a picture taken, because that would force me to confront what's happening to me. I've avoided friends and family members because I don't want them to see me. The most recent picture anyone who only knows me online has seen is from 2001 -- more than 100 pounds ago. So maybe the first step to changing is just to face the facts and get it all out there.
I weigh 340-350 pounds. I say 340-350 because I weighed 336 the last time I checked (last year), and I definitely haven't gotten smaller in the year since then. This is unacceptable. I am going to die a very painful death in the not-too-distant future -- and be miserable in the interim -- if I don't get my act together. I already have a foot that kills me to walk on every day, because I am fat. I walk with a limp at 25. 25! This should be the prime of my life. Very soon, I will have diabetes, if I don't stop. I am winded by the slightest exercise. And by "slightest exercise", I don't mean "running down the block", I mean "tying my shoes". Just the other day, I developed a raw spot on my stomach from where my belly hangs over my belt and rubs. It affects my sex life, too, but I'll spare you the details.
So it's beyond cosmetic. It's beyond vanity. It's literally life or death.
And it's not genetics. It's my entire lifestyle.
I'm lazy, so the dishes pile up. Instead of washing a dish to cook dinner, I go get something that's ready and easy. And when I do, I don't get one cheeseburger from McDonalds and some small fries -- I get three, and large fries. I get a frozen pizza that should feed four people -- and I eat the whole thing -- and a whole bag of chips. Let me tell you something that I ate Saturday, and probably eat at least once a month. Long John Silver's #8 combo -- 3 chicken planks and 2 fish planks, with hush-puppies substituted for cole-slaw, the fries that come with it, and with 12 extra hushpuppies. I haven't gotten to the best part. With this, I also ask for a box of the fried batter crumbs, which I dip the planks and hushpuppies in after smothering them in ketchup. If I haven't had anything to eat for breakfast or lunch and I have to be at work at 3, I stop at a gas station and get a bag of chips -- and eat the whole thing at work. Some of you may have heard me joke when I visited your house about a bag of chips I've seen half-full and closed with a clip. In fact, when I would visit Jess & James's house, I would always notice the same bag of half-full chips that weren't finished off for literally a month -- or probably eventually gone stale and thrown away! That's no joke. That has never and would never happen at my house.
I never exercise. All my recreational activities are sedentary -- playing computer or board games or surfing the internet, watching TV, reading, or listening to music. And smoke.
Since we've started smoking outside, I've cut down a lot, but I can still go through almost a whole pack in a day -- I usually have only 3 or 4 left over in the morning from the previous day's pack.
So what I do I need to do?
Quit smoking and not diet, and exercise.
"Not diet"? Yes. Not. diet. I have to change, not count calories for six months or a year. I know what I should and shouldn't eat, and how much. I just need to do it. I need to eat small, balanced meals in human size portions several times a day -- the old food pyramid, y'know? -- not one giant fatty meal fried in fat-fat with fat sauce and extra tubby-fat at midnight. So instead of counting calories, I'm going to count serving sizes. I need to not turn to food when I'm bored, anxious, lonely, happy, or, ironically, feeling fat. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, when I feel depressed about being fat, I want to eat. How sick is that?
I also need to exercise. I know the futility of swearing that I will go to the gym -- I won't. Instead I will try at first to do things like pushups, situps, squats, and crunches, and take the stairs instead of the elevator -- at home. If I start feeling better, then maybe I can go more aggressive.
And I need to quit smoking. This will be quite a bit easier than eating right, because unlike food, I don't have to have any cigarettes to survive.
Can I do all this? I honestly don't know. I've made bold statements before. But I have a history of waiting till the last moment to move my ass... and this time I literally feel like I'm at the last moment. For real. So what I'm saying is don't hold your breath, but wish me luck.
For some reason I feel more strongly about promises when I say them outloud, even if I'm essentially talking to myself. So, anyway, I have a few 'resolutions' for next year, but I would like to start with some frank confessions. Too long I have avoided looking in the mirror, or stepping on a scale, or having a picture taken, because that would force me to confront what's happening to me. I've avoided friends and family members because I don't want them to see me. The most recent picture anyone who only knows me online has seen is from 2001 -- more than 100 pounds ago. So maybe the first step to changing is just to face the facts and get it all out there.
I weigh 340-350 pounds. I say 340-350 because I weighed 336 the last time I checked (last year), and I definitely haven't gotten smaller in the year since then. This is unacceptable. I am going to die a very painful death in the not-too-distant future -- and be miserable in the interim -- if I don't get my act together. I already have a foot that kills me to walk on every day, because I am fat. I walk with a limp at 25. 25! This should be the prime of my life. Very soon, I will have diabetes, if I don't stop. I am winded by the slightest exercise. And by "slightest exercise", I don't mean "running down the block", I mean "tying my shoes". Just the other day, I developed a raw spot on my stomach from where my belly hangs over my belt and rubs. It affects my sex life, too, but I'll spare you the details.
So it's beyond cosmetic. It's beyond vanity. It's literally life or death.
And it's not genetics. It's my entire lifestyle.
I'm lazy, so the dishes pile up. Instead of washing a dish to cook dinner, I go get something that's ready and easy. And when I do, I don't get one cheeseburger from McDonalds and some small fries -- I get three, and large fries. I get a frozen pizza that should feed four people -- and I eat the whole thing -- and a whole bag of chips. Let me tell you something that I ate Saturday, and probably eat at least once a month. Long John Silver's #8 combo -- 3 chicken planks and 2 fish planks, with hush-puppies substituted for cole-slaw, the fries that come with it, and with 12 extra hushpuppies. I haven't gotten to the best part. With this, I also ask for a box of the fried batter crumbs, which I dip the planks and hushpuppies in after smothering them in ketchup. If I haven't had anything to eat for breakfast or lunch and I have to be at work at 3, I stop at a gas station and get a bag of chips -- and eat the whole thing at work. Some of you may have heard me joke when I visited your house about a bag of chips I've seen half-full and closed with a clip. In fact, when I would visit Jess & James's house, I would always notice the same bag of half-full chips that weren't finished off for literally a month -- or probably eventually gone stale and thrown away! That's no joke. That has never and would never happen at my house.
I never exercise. All my recreational activities are sedentary -- playing computer or board games or surfing the internet, watching TV, reading, or listening to music. And smoke.
Since we've started smoking outside, I've cut down a lot, but I can still go through almost a whole pack in a day -- I usually have only 3 or 4 left over in the morning from the previous day's pack.
So what I do I need to do?
Quit smoking and not diet, and exercise.
"Not diet"? Yes. Not. diet. I have to change, not count calories for six months or a year. I know what I should and shouldn't eat, and how much. I just need to do it. I need to eat small, balanced meals in human size portions several times a day -- the old food pyramid, y'know? -- not one giant fatty meal fried in fat-fat with fat sauce and extra tubby-fat at midnight. So instead of counting calories, I'm going to count serving sizes. I need to not turn to food when I'm bored, anxious, lonely, happy, or, ironically, feeling fat. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, when I feel depressed about being fat, I want to eat. How sick is that?
I also need to exercise. I know the futility of swearing that I will go to the gym -- I won't. Instead I will try at first to do things like pushups, situps, squats, and crunches, and take the stairs instead of the elevator -- at home. If I start feeling better, then maybe I can go more aggressive.
And I need to quit smoking. This will be quite a bit easier than eating right, because unlike food, I don't have to have any cigarettes to survive.
Can I do all this? I honestly don't know. I've made bold statements before. But I have a history of waiting till the last moment to move my ass... and this time I literally feel like I'm at the last moment. For real. So what I'm saying is don't hold your breath, but wish me luck.
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
I used to be moderately overweight, but ever since I started going to shows back when I was 14 and eating more healthy and less food, I've felt and looked a million times better.
If you want a snack and like soup, I suggest buying a lot of Campbell's Vegetarian Vegetable soup.
You get a full serving of vegetables, 22.5 ounces of soup, and it's only 225 calories, which equates to about 1.5 servings of normal potato chips. I used to have it 1-2 times a day in place of a meal or snack, and with exercise I lost 30 pounds in 3 months.
i dunno if you could ever be and more amazingly sexy.