Poetry & Blindfolds

 

About 30 days ago, I decided, for the first time, to deliberately start mending my dietary habits as well as re-toning my muscles.  I have not, and no doubt will not, make much of a fuss about it, as there’s nothing worse than the imagined sympathetic voices saying, “well, at least you tried” or, worse, “it’s what’s on the inside that counts”, should I miserably fail.

 

The reasons behind this decision were manifold:

1. The wife and I were given a Wii, and with that, a Wii Fitness Plus disc.  Thus, embarking on a health-oriented regimen seems logical.

2. I turned 45.

3. Christopher Hitchens suddenly got cancer, instilling in me a dread of mortality (or, at least, another layer of dread of mortality).

4. I got a haircut, which makes my head look slightly more globe-like than it does with normal hair.  I feel like I’m one zig-zagged sweater away from having a run-in with Lucy Van Pelt.

5. My weight is obsessed with plateaus.  For years, I was 145 pounds, then jumped up to 165 pounds, where I stayed for years, until I was suddenly 185 pounds, again for some time, until finally I have landed at 200-210 pounds.  Despite its slow-moving nature, I am not a fan of this bodily trend from Pro-Ana Boy to Michelan Man.

6. I wouldn’t say I dislike my body, but after a shower, I cannot help but look in a mirror and wonder aloud, “Really?”

7. My wife actually likes my body.  But she likes quite a few plus-sized celebrities (Jack Black, for instance) and her liking my body makes me involuntarily queasy.

8. Few women check me out.  I know this is a ridiculous motivation – and, as Number 3 above reveals, the best I could possibly hope for is hanging on to the near-sighted few that still do check me out – but a motivation nonetheless.

 

On Day One, I weighed in at 204.6 and I was determined to lose 10 pounds in the first 30 days.  My wife joined in as well, though she needn’t lose any weight at all.  In fact, I noticed that her weight gradually diminished, seemingly on its own, over the month; mine would spike and drop like a metabolic Dow Jones Industrial Average.  Yet, I focused on the more positive reasons of losing weight and toning up, and did 60- to 85-minute workouts each day or every other day.  Additionally, I walked a couple miles a day during the week.  I rearranged my diet to include less bread/meat/sugar and more nuts/seeds/yogurt.  This has made me unusually aware of more junky type of food, and I can smell a foot-long Quizno’s sandwich at 50 paces.   

 

But, yes, finally, at the end of the month, I had achieved a ten-pound weight loss, weighing in at exactly 194.2 pounds. 

 

And naturally, I’m irritated because my pants are all a little loose now.  It is curious that pants will stretch and expand a little as their owners do, but will not shrink and compress when their owners shrink themselves.  The sugary-sweet devil, who has been murmuring to me all this time while perched on my shoulder, suggests happily that I will no doubt blimp up a bit in time and the pants will fit me AND I’ll get to have breakfasts consisting of three to four bowls of Lucky Charms again.  It’s a reassuring voice, but I am wise enough to seek counsel from the angel on the other shoulder.  Unfortunately, the angel shrugged and said, “I got nothin’.”

 

So I have decided to ignore them both and set another 10-pound goal for myself over the next 30 days.  Wish me luck, in your own way.  If I do not blog about this again, don’t ask.