You’ve been seeing a lot less of me lately.
Roughly 30 pounds less.
(Oh. You meant my online absence. I’ll explain. In due time. Honestly.)
I had what you may call a transformative moment, an epiphany if you will, about 18 months back following my annual physical.
My blood pressure was slightly elevated.
My cholesterol, a few ticks into the red.
Most importantly, I had trouble buttoning my pants.
Having spent most of my adult life in a 34 waist, in the year previous I had moved to a 36.
Then, a 36 with a “comfort waist.” That’s a 36 with an extra few inches of elastic hidden in the belt line. Lands’ End is Genius.
This enabled me to live the lie for a while. I watched as the scales tipped over 200 consistently for more than just the usual couple of days following a sausage-pepperoni-onion pizza bender.
The breaking point came when I had trouble getting into my jeans.
Relaxed fit jeans.
Good gravy, I’m a load.
I’d done diet and exercise programs before. Weight Watchers (fairly easy as long as the constant hunger doesn’t affect your math skills), Wii Fit (blah – bitchy, boring and looking at your potbellied Mii is just annoying rather than motivational) and one horrific, all-liquid detox cleanse. Usually, I complete each with some success.
Until I inevitably stopped following them.
Then ka-BLOOEY: The Return of Jabba the Uncool.
Despite my previous making fun of people who do food journaling, I decided it couldn’t hurt to try it. I mean, I do write for a living. Allegedly. How hard could it be to scribble down my munchies on a regular basis?
I found a free online program that gave me daily calorie goals based on my current weight and my goal weight. In about four months, with the help of a moderate increase in exercise, I dropped from 203 to 173.
Easy as pie. Rather, easy as avoiding pie. Which really is easy for me. I’m a cake whore. (Note to self: Idea for new reality show!)
Food journaling taught me several things about my eating, beyond that I did way too much it.
I truly dig cheese and bread, for example, but they can easily be the ruin of me because they dig my love handles even more.
Almonds are good for heart health, but the half a jar I’d polish off in one sitting was extending my waistline far more than my life expectancy.
Simple stuff like that.
As a result, I’ve kept the weight off for most of the past year with only a few minor blips during vacation and a rather tasty homemade eggnog season.
Yet some people still are not satisfied.
And by people, I mean my aforementioned Wii Fit.
I decided to step on the balance board the other day just for the satisfaction of seeing a skinny Mii and finally hearing some praise from it rather than, “Oh, you are off center. Try leaning more to the left. And stop bouncing on me, lard ass.”
Well, that’s positive. Mostly.
That’s my Mii, known as Goatee because I briefly had one when I created him three years ago. At last, he’s normal.
BMI of 22? That’s …
That’s another (trying to do math in head but too weak from starvation) …
:: crickets chirping ::
20 effin’ pounds?!
:: crickets laughing ::
Who wants to go with me for a triple cheeseburger? With cake.