Fat Tales

I give up. I’m going to Weight Watchers. In person, live and dreadful. I’m going to listen to the leader cheer me on, absorb all the advice to eat sugar-free Jello and fat-free salad dressing.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to shed my 50 pounds of spare lard over the course of the coming year. Something has got to happen. Because I’m deeply fearful that I could turn into the 647-pound lady on the Discovery Health Channel. I suppose it’s kind of sick that I’m always watching some horrific fat story on television. What’s more, I’m looking forward to the debut of this season’s installment of the Biggest Loser on NBC. I think it’s because I see myself so clearly in all those fat people.

So I’m off to Weight Watchers. Oh boy. I now accept that I can’t do this on my own. I’m weak.

Popularity: 2% [?]

I’ve come to believe that I am an unmotivated person. I must be, because I’m pretty sure that I’m completely unmotivated to lose weight. Intellectually, I understand the need to part with the tonnage accumulated by years of over-indulgence and sloth. But emotionally, I must be attached to my lard. Heavy dinners, copious amounts of wine, injurious levels of chocolate are all mighty appealing.

Last night I made coq a vin for dinner. As I was frying up the salt pork (serious stuff!) I thought to myself: Some light dinner! I tried to redeem it by having a tasty green salad with my dinner. Yet there’s no getting over it. Coq a vin is not a diet food, no matter how much you try to tell yourself it’s only chicken with a little red wine. I enjoyed every bite, and I revisited every morsel as I weighted down the scale this morning.

Why is it that I can’t seem to get it through my skull that fattening stuff is … well … fattening? Is it because I like it? Is it because I’m an idiot? Is it because I have zero willpower? Is it because I’m deluded and think that my body will somehow miraculously use up all these calories while I park my capacious butt in front of the TV?

Or am I just unmotivated?

A day or two ago I watched this show called “Trash Can of Skin” on the Discovery Channel. The show profiled this English woman, who, through an unfortunate set of circumstances, ballooned up to 545 pounds. Then she lost more than 300 pounds. She was left with so much extra skin that she decided to go to surgeon in Kansas to have it all cut off. Literally. She underwent a procedure called a circumfrential body lift, and they sliced off about 35 pounds of extra skin and fat.

So that was really yucky to watch, and I had to leave the room to get a glass of wine to enable myself to finish the show. But by God, this gal was motivated. No matter what, she was going to get back her slim body, even if it meant going under the knife and never eating again. She had a lot more to lose than me. So ostensibly, her path should be much harder and mine should be a cake walk. (No pun intended.)

Of course, the difference between me and her is that she, for whatever reason, found the motivation in herself to lose the weight. After watching that show with one eye closed against the surgery, I’m fairly convinced that I may never be as motivated as she. I think I’ll go home and have some leftover Coq a vin for dinner.

Popularity: 40% [?]

Yesterday I was feeling pretty proud of myself for losing a couple of pounds. Today, they’re back after rather serious birthday indulgences.

And … I don’t care. If my weight’s ever going to change, I’ve got to get over the day-to-day fretting over a pound or two and make overarching changes that just make the general trend go down. I’m not going to be able to avoid birthdays or holidays or the occasional indulgence. I just don’t have to make every day an indulgence.

There are 3,500 calories in a pound of fat. Since I’m probably 40 percent fat, that means I’ve got 432,600 calories in my body, of which 210,000 need to go away. So that’s not going to happen overnight. I’ve got to run at a calorie deficit for months.

The math isn’t in my favor. But maybe somehow I can figure this out.

Popularity: 1% [?]

Eating for all these years has provided temporal joy. When I've enjoyed something really tasty, the clouds go away (if only for a moment) and there's something else to focus on. But now that I want to lose weight, I see that to shed the tonnage, I've got to look inside and find something else that can really nourish who I am. Writing this blog has helped me focus on something other than food, or diet. By committing to writing it every day, it's made me see that with a little more thought about the "why" of losing weight, the "how" might take care of itself.

OK, it’s only Monday and I feel like the week is already half over. I’m grumpy. I’m hungry. And the prospect of losing 26.2 pounds by October 21 seems impossible to me today. I honestly don’t know if I have the stamina to do all that’s necessary to lose the tonnage.

If there is one thing that seems to help, it’s writing this blog. It seems odd to me that this should be so. I’ve never been one for keeping journals or diaries and I’ve never felt like I’ve had that much to say. Perhaps it’s the fact that by writing about my quest I actually have to take a moment daily to reflect on it. In previous efforts, I’ve hated it every step of the way without ever really considering how it all feels and what the ramifications would be if I actually did lose the weight.

Not being particularly insightful into my own make-up has probably contributed to my weight gain. It’s a lot easier to shovel food in your mouth than to consider what’s really whirling around in your insides. So maybe that’s why this blog is helping; even if I don’t lose the weight, maybe I’ll gain a little more self-knowledge. That would be good.

Popularity: 61% [?]