Monday, November 21, 2005

Oh, My Shrinking Wattle, Part VI

I have been down bouncing between 205 lb.s and 207 lb.s for the last month (down from 255 lb.s four years ago), and with late Autumn settled in and early winter approaching, I'm chowing down, unstoppably. So, of course, I've been exercising, seemingly unstoppably, that is, at least an hour a day, which I often groan at doing. But, I am NOT going to get fat again! No 'effing way, trust me! Historically, the six months between November and May have been the time I pack it on; the remaining six months, the time I take it off. By the Gods above, I am not going to put it back on! No way. Unh-hunh. I'll run my ass off, first (and I mean that literally.)

I really, really like not being fat! My sleep apnea is gone. My digestive troubles have calmed down to almost normal. I'm more alert. Some of my clothes fit better and the rest are too big. Cute chicks look at me and I don't feel embarrassed to look back at them--good Lord, I'm even learning to flirt again. If only I'd been able to do this at 38!

But, I tell you: you're ready when you're ready and not a moment before. There's no way around that. One way to get ready, though, is to get in the habit of being witness to your own relationship with food. You know what you THINK it does for you--e.g., fill you up, make you feel protected and loved, distract you from your troubles--but, with careful attention, you'll find it doesn't do those things forever. Like any addiction, over-eating outdoes its usefullness, in time. Of course, upon realizing that, the real work begins.... When you're ready.


p.s. Here's a tip for increasing the number of hits to your blog: name drop like crazy. We all google ourselves.


Cindy said...

Better google than oogle oneself, I suppose. Although googling fellow bloggers is much more educational. And entertaining.

paulmonster said...

Every spring, my father and I have this charming little papa bear routine where we psyche ourselves up to train all summer for the Portland Marathon in the fall. And every summer, we both (although admittedly, I more precipitately than he) decline and slack off and lose ourselves in his summer projects or my productions, plays, late night trips to Powell's. And then we watch October sprint past and feel sorry for ourselves.

To which I say, okay, I understand this cyclical thing. And there are legitimate reasons for not running the marathon again right this second (I ran one years ago when I was in AmeriCorps). But. I. Will. Run. Again. No two-bit seasonal beast has the wherewithal to hold me down forever. Tramps like us, baby we were born to run.

Yours in solidarity,

Cindy said...

And how has the shrinking wattle fared over Thanksgiving? :)

My respectful regard to the battle you've won and continue to maintain. It's an encouragement.