February 26th, 2012: Down another to 304. I have to take these runs when I get them, because I’ll probably get a stall here in the next day or two. No crazy exercise yesterday, just the 30 minutes on the treadmill.
I’m dreaming today of Las Vegas. And that’s both good and bad. I have to part with the secret that I’ve had these nasty urges the last several days to pack up, jump on an Allegiant Flight, and cut loose. Let me illustrate what would happen if I went to Las Vegas packing nothing more than money, a change of clothes, and a case of cabin fever. It’d be similar to a trip I took there years and years ago. Well, I’ll just tell you about that first night from years and years ago really quick and that’ll give you an idea.
Arrived around noon, checked into the Mirage, planned to go straight to the buffet, but made a quick detour by a Blackjack table instead. $100 down, for the hell of it. First hand – one Ace – one King – Blackjack. Now, no kidding here, put those chips back in – and – Blackjack. Food’s gonna’ have to wait. 3 hours later (I’d guess, I mean, whose looking at the clock), I’ve got nearly $2000 on the table, all from that initial $100 dollar bill, and the cocktail servers are quick to bring the Bud Lights, seein’s how I’m tipping $25 every time they come. I’m not rich, I was just getting hammered and loose, quickly. I had to pee so bad, but I didn’t dare leave the table because I wanted to continue this streak. There were like 10 people watching me play 2 or 3 hands at once. I’m getting louder and more fun. Then the next thing I know I’m doing one of those backwards swim moves off the chair (where your arms are flailing, trying to catch yourself). Slam, I hit the ground, roll off the chair, dust myself off, and belly back up to the table. Sorry, sir, you’re cut off.
Cashed in my chips, still well over a thousand dollars and we went outside so I could breathe in some night air. Only problem, it was still daylight. I was so hammered, had had no food all day, and the final issue was that I got confused that it was still daylight. I lurched all over the sidewalk. Once again, it’s a case of this type of thing happening when you’re big and loud. I had to sit down on the sidewalk for like 15 minutes because I couldn’t walk. What an embarrASSment! There’s Ben, putting the ASS in clASS again.
Ended up at that café at Treasure Island where I took one bite out of one of the like 4 plates of food I ordered (at least that’s what I was told later). Passed out, face down, into a cheeseburger and fries. The rest of the story is another story by itself, as this was only day 1.
What the hell, you ask, does this have to do with weight loss? Everything, I say in response, because it’s a metaphor for how I approach eating and diet. I’m starting to think about what would or will work best for me if I ever let loose again. Would it be better to just have a beer or two (or no beers) and go to Vegas every year, or twice a year, and be boring, and not stay out late, and gamble only like $20, and avoid the buffet in favor of fancy restaurants, and eat vegetables? Or go to Vegas, like I did those many years ago, party like an animal, and not go back again until the place has forgotten my name, like every 5 years?
Well, those are my thoughts today, very cautiously stitched together so as not to accidentally convince myself to screw up.
February 26th, 2020: Losing muscle is maddening or saddening or frustrating or whatever you want to call it, but I learned that it’s all part of the process. I lost fat, I lost muscle, hell, I probably lost some bone; and I damn near lost my mind, but I came out on the other side a smaller, healthier human being. There are programs where you can lose a minimum amount of muscle. There are programs where you gain muscle (and probably some fat). There are programs where it seems you lose muscle and fat and are just left with a body cavity that looks like a bag of bones.
This program told me to just trust it – just do what it says and believe. I’m a skeptical bastard, I promise, but not so skeptical as I was terrified. This is not necessarily a great way to instill belief in a person – I actually think it’s immoral – even though many of the world’s religions base membership in the sheer terror of an afterlife in hell. Still though, I had to follow something, so I chose to follow myself and believe in myself as designed by the ultimate creator. This isn’t something brand new or revolutionary, and I’m trying just as hard as I can to straighten the psychological mess of wires that would present the most significant barriers to success on the program. I chose to create something that works to strengthen my mind, with the hope that my body will continue to follow.
