March 28th, 2012: Same weight, different day. Now I’m getting sick of this shit. Guess who doesn’t care, though? The universe and my scale. I’m still 289 lbs.
It’s all about the anticipation. In my life, at least, there’s a bunch of things that are more fun to want than to have. I don’t think I’ve ever been as excited after opening my Christmas presents as a child than I was before opening them. As I contemplate that on this fine morning I realize it’s exactly the same way with food. I can want and want and want that Reese’s Easter Bunny or that KFC or that box of whatever treats, but I’ve reached that point in this weight-loss journey and this life journey, in general, where most of the time I know that it wouldn’t satisfy me like I think it would. I’d eat it and even if I didn’t feel guilty (I don’t think you should go around feeling “guilty” for eating something – it isn’t a legal matter), I know I wouldn’t be jumping up and down with a feeling of pride and accomplishment. I would just be. I would just be me with some extra grease and chocolate in my stomach.
Make no mistake, I’ll eat those things again, I’d be lying and merely talking shit if I claimed otherwise, but I’m under no illusion that there’s a food out there that would make me a complete person. What if it was like, “Oh man, I saw heaven the other day – it looked like a quart of Ben and Jerry’s, felt like a corn dog and smelled like bacon.” How simple and unrealistic is it to think that you could finally be satisfied, finally find what you were looking for, and it was a piece of food? Weird huh, but sometimes that thought crashes into my brain like a breaker on the shore – and from now on, for the rest of my life, I have to make the conscious decision to battle that thought. But it’s worth the fight.
I’m always looking for and finding those things that do satisfy me and mostly they involve the smiles of the people I love and a sunny day with no wind to take a walk. I have to realize they’re right there. No piece of food is better than that. I guess. I know. Yes, I know. I know it and have to believe it.
March 28th, 2020: I can’t imagine what it’d be like to smoke a beer, drink a cigarette, or inhale a bucket of KFC chicken followed by at least a dozen Reese’s Easter Eggs. Eight years ago, I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to say unto myself: “You may want that particular type of food, but you do not get that type of food asshole.” And then actually follow my talk with action (or inaction, I guess).
It took multiple attempts to quit tobacco and then later on, drinking. There were definitive moments with both, which I’ve written about prior, but those definitive moments and epiphanies did not come without pointing my face in those directions a long time before that “moment”. Anyhow, when I did fall off the wagon, which was, as I wrote above, multiple times, it always just started with one. One smoke, one dip of Copehagen, one beer, etc. That first one, my God, it was like stepping through the gates of heaven on Earth. Where have you been? Why did I ever let you go?
And then BAM! Just like that I’d be chasing the feeling from that first one. I could never catch it, but it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. I’ve learned that same thing exists in the weight-loss war. I want SO BAD sometimes to just say fuck it for a day. Just a day. Just eat anything I want that day – no limits on what or how much.
And then BAM! After I get over the sickness of being stuffed like a T-giving turkey, I know I’ll only live for that next time I can do it like that again. And knowing me, I might not make it even 24 hours, so I’ll do it again – I’ll say “just one more time”. Then I’m gone, and I won’t return to this land; at least without a running firefight with myself that I’m never totally confident I could win.
I’ve had probably 20 to 30 cheat days since 2012. Not one of those days lived up to my expectations after I ate the first donut (my go-to for the first item I eat when I cheat). One day I started at 3am on a Saturday morning, and quit counting calories at 16,000+ somewhere that afternoon. I didn’t quit shoveling it in though, until Sunday night. The whole time I kept trying to find the perception of release from stress and worry that first donut gave to me, but always it alluded me.
Is a cheat day worth it? Is a day off worth it? Is anything too fun worth it when you can’t have it or do it permanently – every day forever after? This is a daily battle for me. Leaving the straight and narrow and giving up my addiction for the mundane to find some variety – I don’t like it. I don’t like the effort of restoring discipline and routine after I’ve shelved it for the weekend or for a day off or for a “cheat”. I don’t even like weekends. Not sure if this is best, but it feels sustainable and solid, so I don’t know…
