Well, Sunday weigh-in and........274.
I didn't lose a fucking pound. Not one. Not even an ounce. Working out three times, killing myself at the gym, laying off so many things, and yet I didn't lose a pound. How? I don't get it.
I am very discouraged right now. I had been hoping to have lost two to three pounds. Not to have lost anything at all, I feel like it was a lost week, to be honest.
I had been worried that I would hit a wall. That I would hit a point where I wasn't losing anymore, or at least wasn't losing the way I had been. Have I hit that wall?
I pray not. I am so discouraged right now. I didn't gain, I know that, but I am 274 pounds. I need to be losing every single week. I didn't lose a thing, and I didn't feel like I cheated that much.
Maybe this week was the outlier because I went out to eat three times, once on Sunday, once on Friday, once on Saturday. But, even on those days, I thought I calculated correctly that my calorie intake wasn't that big of a deal. I was wrong.
Is everything I am doing bullshit? Do I know what I am doing?
I can't tell you how down I am right now. It is hard to have a good outlook right now, look at the bright side. I haven't gained, but, again, I FUCKING WEIGH 274 POUNDS!!!!!! If I'm not losing weight every week, I'm losing out, big time. What a complete disappointment.
I'm trying not to make a big deal out of this, but that was just such a shock. I thought I had lost, I really did. Maybe it was because I was sooo cocky. I didn't think I was that cocky. Maybe I was.
Whatever. Wasted week. Have to do better next week. Have to do MUCH better.
Goodbye dream of being down 30 pounds by the time I go to Vegas. Now, I am really going to have to buckle down to get to 20 pounds overall.
I can't believe I lost NOTHING!!!!!!!!
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
On the road from obese to just plan fat
Okay, Sunday is here and the weigh-in is over. The new weight: 274. For those counting at home, and I know you're not, that is four pounds this week and 14 for the month. I am quickly shedding the obese label and careening towards fat. WOOOHOOO!!!!!!
Seriously, though, I am very happy. On the one hand, you work all week, watch what you eat, limit your calorie intake, and end up only losing four pounds. You feel like you should have shed about 30 when your workout routine is all said and done. But, when you begin to look at it legitimately, and understand that most "experts" want you losing one to two pounds a week, four pounds a week is pretty good.
Really, this is about two things: God helping give me the strength to do this (and I sure as hell need that) and changing my lifestyle along the way. The most important thing here is the working out, I believe. And, also, staying on target. I need to remain true to my self and how I have gone about this. I can't slide back. In fact, I need to use this as motivation to continue to do better.
I set a goal of 20 pounds for my Vegas trip. I am easily on my way to that and would actually much rather be closer to 30 pounds down. Could I lose another 16 pounds in the next four weeks? I believe I can. The only thing is, I have three more weigh-ins before my Vegas trip. How much can I lose by then? Well, if I stay at a 3-4 pounds a week rate, that should be 10.5 pounds in the next three weeks, which would put me at about 263 and at 24.5 pounds down over two months.
I am a little nervous about my Vegas trip. How much weight will I put on in those couple of days? I am hoping that I simply just stay the same or only add a pound or two. I figure I'll be walking a lot and I won't be eating every five seconds, anyway, but I am going to be somewhat conscious of what I am doing there as well, while also figuring out a way to have fun in Vegas. That shouldn't be too hard:)
I am happy where I am at, but I also realize how much farther I have to go. That's the position I put myself in. I put myself in a position where 14 pounds in a month is simply the first step of many. Even 30 pounds is the first step in many. I am excited about this next month, however, because if I can get to about 30 pounds down, that's beginning to get into the realm of real weight loss. Also, being in the 260s for weight is a better jumping-off point than being in the 280s. I just need to stay focused, stay on target. I am excited about the future, though.
My goal for Vegas was 20+ pounds. I believe I can do that. My goal for the summer, essentially June, was to have a new body for the good weather. I am figuring around 50-60 pounds down. That's about four months away. If I could stay consistent with my weight loss, average maybe 13 pounds a month, that's 52 pounds. That would put me at 222 pounds. That would put me about 20 pounds off where I would really like to be. I think I can do this. I believe I can do this. I believe God is going to allow me to shed this weight for good. I just have to stay strong. No short cuts.
Right now, I am down 14 pounds. It's a good first step.
Seriously, though, I am very happy. On the one hand, you work all week, watch what you eat, limit your calorie intake, and end up only losing four pounds. You feel like you should have shed about 30 when your workout routine is all said and done. But, when you begin to look at it legitimately, and understand that most "experts" want you losing one to two pounds a week, four pounds a week is pretty good.
Really, this is about two things: God helping give me the strength to do this (and I sure as hell need that) and changing my lifestyle along the way. The most important thing here is the working out, I believe. And, also, staying on target. I need to remain true to my self and how I have gone about this. I can't slide back. In fact, I need to use this as motivation to continue to do better.
I set a goal of 20 pounds for my Vegas trip. I am easily on my way to that and would actually much rather be closer to 30 pounds down. Could I lose another 16 pounds in the next four weeks? I believe I can. The only thing is, I have three more weigh-ins before my Vegas trip. How much can I lose by then? Well, if I stay at a 3-4 pounds a week rate, that should be 10.5 pounds in the next three weeks, which would put me at about 263 and at 24.5 pounds down over two months.
I am a little nervous about my Vegas trip. How much weight will I put on in those couple of days? I am hoping that I simply just stay the same or only add a pound or two. I figure I'll be walking a lot and I won't be eating every five seconds, anyway, but I am going to be somewhat conscious of what I am doing there as well, while also figuring out a way to have fun in Vegas. That shouldn't be too hard:)
I am happy where I am at, but I also realize how much farther I have to go. That's the position I put myself in. I put myself in a position where 14 pounds in a month is simply the first step of many. Even 30 pounds is the first step in many. I am excited about this next month, however, because if I can get to about 30 pounds down, that's beginning to get into the realm of real weight loss. Also, being in the 260s for weight is a better jumping-off point than being in the 280s. I just need to stay focused, stay on target. I am excited about the future, though.
My goal for Vegas was 20+ pounds. I believe I can do that. My goal for the summer, essentially June, was to have a new body for the good weather. I am figuring around 50-60 pounds down. That's about four months away. If I could stay consistent with my weight loss, average maybe 13 pounds a month, that's 52 pounds. That would put me at 222 pounds. That would put me about 20 pounds off where I would really like to be. I think I can do this. I believe I can do this. I believe God is going to allow me to shed this weight for good. I just have to stay strong. No short cuts.
Right now, I am down 14 pounds. It's a good first step.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Tough week, waiting for tomorrow
Okay, so 10 pounds down and my final month weigh-in is tomorrow. I think I did okay, although, I have to admit, this week was a tough one. There was a lot of talking to myself. You know, those conversations that go something like this.
"Hell, what are you, perfect? Get a grinder. It isn't even that many calories."
"I can't."
"What the hell, you think you're going to be able to do this for the rest of your life?"
"I have to lose the weight and I can't start backtracking."
"Just do it already. Grab something from Wendys. You can get a whole meal for like 1,100 calories. That leaves you with another 700 to play with."
It's tough. There were several times I wanted to come home and eat my fridge. Just the whole damn thing. But, I think I did a pretty good job of staying true to what I have been doing.
I added another day at the gym so, we'll see what happens.
There is a part of me that thinks I might have lost a good amount this week, another part saying "don't get your hopes up, cause you'll be devastated if you get on that scale and there is no loss or just a pound down. We'll see. I still believe I can make my 20-25 pounds down before March 16 when I leave for Vegas.
We will see where we stand tomorrow.
"Hell, what are you, perfect? Get a grinder. It isn't even that many calories."
"I can't."
"What the hell, you think you're going to be able to do this for the rest of your life?"
"I have to lose the weight and I can't start backtracking."
"Just do it already. Grab something from Wendys. You can get a whole meal for like 1,100 calories. That leaves you with another 700 to play with."
It's tough. There were several times I wanted to come home and eat my fridge. Just the whole damn thing. But, I think I did a pretty good job of staying true to what I have been doing.
I added another day at the gym so, we'll see what happens.
There is a part of me that thinks I might have lost a good amount this week, another part saying "don't get your hopes up, cause you'll be devastated if you get on that scale and there is no loss or just a pound down. We'll see. I still believe I can make my 20-25 pounds down before March 16 when I leave for Vegas.
We will see where we stand tomorrow.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Let's jump ahead, shall we?
I'm not sure exactly what was happening with my Internet but it seems things were published on the post with wrong dates attached, and then some weren't posted at all, so there is a little gap between my last post and today. Namely, I just finished my week 3 weigh-in and the result is...............278 pounds. For those keeping track at home, that's 10 pounds. That's like a Maine Coon cat right there.
I am pretty happy. I know 10 pounds in three weeks isn't going to get me a seat on Oprah, and no one wants to see me in a Speedo just yet. But, hey, it's a beginning, and I feel good that I have lost weight every single week.
This is a marathon. I have a goal of losing 70 to 80 pounds. When you put it in that context, 10 pounds aint nothing, but, again, it's a start. More than that, it's confirmation. It's confirmation that I am on the right track, doing the right thing, heading in the right direction. And what I'm doing now, I can keep doing it. It hasn't ruined my life. I don't feel like something wonderful has been ripped from me. Instead, I feel good. I feel good that my muscles hurt after working out. I feel good that I'm thinking about having a different body to go along with warmer weather this summer. I feel good that I'm thinking about doing things like buying a bike and taking trips around my area, or even getting back into some sports.
I just have to keep on keeping on.
The toughest part? When you get that little voice that starts saying "hey, you did well this week, why not grab that large steak and cheese sub on the way home from work," or "you know what, you're working your ass off so why don't you skip the gym tonight."
It is a battle. I find myself talking internally, a lot. Tonight, after the weigh-in, I spent a good part of the day having a conversation about grabbing a Bacon Deluxe extra value meal at Wendys. My logic was that, during the day I hadn't eaten all that much so I could afford a meal that was gonna run me 1200 calories, right? I would still probably be a little under 1800 for the day. But, do I really need a 1200 calorie meal? That was the fight and, as opposed to the past, a small sandwich and some soup later on won out. That's the kinda thing you have to do, go back and forth with yourself, talking yourself outta taking what I call the weight-gain road.
Anyway, I am down 10 pounds in three week. If I am down 13 or so pounds in a month, and can keep that going, I will begin to see it a little more in the coming weeks. It is just about working out and sticking to self-control. I really think what you learn is that, while you have to train your body, you also have to train your mind. You have to train yourself to take the right road, not the wrong road. I am getting better at that. I have had slip ups this week. Stuffed my face with a hot dog at lunch, had a few donuts, but overall, another three pounds down, 10 pounds overall, and things are going good.
Justin, I'm coming for yah, bitch.....
I am pretty happy. I know 10 pounds in three weeks isn't going to get me a seat on Oprah, and no one wants to see me in a Speedo just yet. But, hey, it's a beginning, and I feel good that I have lost weight every single week.
This is a marathon. I have a goal of losing 70 to 80 pounds. When you put it in that context, 10 pounds aint nothing, but, again, it's a start. More than that, it's confirmation. It's confirmation that I am on the right track, doing the right thing, heading in the right direction. And what I'm doing now, I can keep doing it. It hasn't ruined my life. I don't feel like something wonderful has been ripped from me. Instead, I feel good. I feel good that my muscles hurt after working out. I feel good that I'm thinking about having a different body to go along with warmer weather this summer. I feel good that I'm thinking about doing things like buying a bike and taking trips around my area, or even getting back into some sports.
I just have to keep on keeping on.
The toughest part? When you get that little voice that starts saying "hey, you did well this week, why not grab that large steak and cheese sub on the way home from work," or "you know what, you're working your ass off so why don't you skip the gym tonight."
It is a battle. I find myself talking internally, a lot. Tonight, after the weigh-in, I spent a good part of the day having a conversation about grabbing a Bacon Deluxe extra value meal at Wendys. My logic was that, during the day I hadn't eaten all that much so I could afford a meal that was gonna run me 1200 calories, right? I would still probably be a little under 1800 for the day. But, do I really need a 1200 calorie meal? That was the fight and, as opposed to the past, a small sandwich and some soup later on won out. That's the kinda thing you have to do, go back and forth with yourself, talking yourself outta taking what I call the weight-gain road.
Anyway, I am down 10 pounds in three week. If I am down 13 or so pounds in a month, and can keep that going, I will begin to see it a little more in the coming weeks. It is just about working out and sticking to self-control. I really think what you learn is that, while you have to train your body, you also have to train your mind. You have to train yourself to take the right road, not the wrong road. I am getting better at that. I have had slip ups this week. Stuffed my face with a hot dog at lunch, had a few donuts, but overall, another three pounds down, 10 pounds overall, and things are going good.
Justin, I'm coming for yah, bitch.....
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Week One: Not Too Bad
Update: I wrote this post a couple of days ago and it didn't post when I posted it for some reason. Thanks, Internet.....
Anyway, my weigh-in today? I am down to 285 pounds. That's three pounds down. Nothing earth shattering but, hey, I'll take it, right? Baby steps, baby. Baby steps.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
So week one of new me is going pretty well. I am not constantly hungry, nor am I stuffed and feeling like I am cheating myself. I have been to the gym twice this week and skipped a trip because we, here, in the great state of Connecticut, have turned into North Pole 2.0 lately, and another storm dumped about 20 inches of snow on my front lawn. When you are shoveling huge piles of snow for two hours, I count that as a day in the gym.
What's funny about working out is how your body reacts to things. I went to the gym on Monday this week, did 10 minutes of cardio, did about 25-30 minutes of weight training, then finished up with another 15 minutes of cardio. At the end, I felt like I had been through a workout, but I wasn't dead. In fact, I felt pretty darn good.
I took Tuesday off, then, Wednesday, went back.
Half way through essentially the SAME workout (different weight training) I felt like Hulk Hogan had repeatedly body slammed me into the ground. As opposed to Monday, where my 15 minutes of cardio finish had seemed okay, I was dying this time around. I didn't even know if I could make it through all the time that was left.
Simply put, Monday told me I could work out, Wednesday reminded me why I needed to make it a routine.
My plan is to hit the gym again tomorrow (Sat.) for a quick routine. Hopefully, I won't be as winded as I was Wednesday.
As far as eating, I am doing a pretty good job of gauging calories I believe. I think I have been pretty firm on the 1,800 for the day. Might have been a tad over once or twice, but nothing significant. It's hard to judge the calories in some meals. For instance, last night for dinner I had a bowl of noodles, lean chop meat, in cream of mushroom soup. How much could that have been? I am trying to calculate on the high end, so that I leave some wiggle room, so I calculated that as being about 750 calories. Was it that much? Hard to imagine it was, but I want to put myself in a position to be pleasantly surprised.
I have my weigh-in on Sunday. I feel like I have already lost some weight and can see it, a little bit. I guess Sunday will tell the tale.
I am not going in with any set weight goal for the week, I just want to see loss so I know what I am doing is working, mainly because what I am doing is something I believe I can continue to do.
The question is, can I translate this into my weekend?
Usually, I go out with friends after work. That mean some food, some beers, and some laughs. How much that adds up to during the course of the week, I can't tell you, but I am going to try and cut back starting tonight. We will see.
Anyway, my weigh-in today? I am down to 285 pounds. That's three pounds down. Nothing earth shattering but, hey, I'll take it, right? Baby steps, baby. Baby steps.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
So week one of new me is going pretty well. I am not constantly hungry, nor am I stuffed and feeling like I am cheating myself. I have been to the gym twice this week and skipped a trip because we, here, in the great state of Connecticut, have turned into North Pole 2.0 lately, and another storm dumped about 20 inches of snow on my front lawn. When you are shoveling huge piles of snow for two hours, I count that as a day in the gym.
What's funny about working out is how your body reacts to things. I went to the gym on Monday this week, did 10 minutes of cardio, did about 25-30 minutes of weight training, then finished up with another 15 minutes of cardio. At the end, I felt like I had been through a workout, but I wasn't dead. In fact, I felt pretty darn good.
I took Tuesday off, then, Wednesday, went back.
Half way through essentially the SAME workout (different weight training) I felt like Hulk Hogan had repeatedly body slammed me into the ground. As opposed to Monday, where my 15 minutes of cardio finish had seemed okay, I was dying this time around. I didn't even know if I could make it through all the time that was left.
Simply put, Monday told me I could work out, Wednesday reminded me why I needed to make it a routine.
My plan is to hit the gym again tomorrow (Sat.) for a quick routine. Hopefully, I won't be as winded as I was Wednesday.
As far as eating, I am doing a pretty good job of gauging calories I believe. I think I have been pretty firm on the 1,800 for the day. Might have been a tad over once or twice, but nothing significant. It's hard to judge the calories in some meals. For instance, last night for dinner I had a bowl of noodles, lean chop meat, in cream of mushroom soup. How much could that have been? I am trying to calculate on the high end, so that I leave some wiggle room, so I calculated that as being about 750 calories. Was it that much? Hard to imagine it was, but I want to put myself in a position to be pleasantly surprised.
I have my weigh-in on Sunday. I feel like I have already lost some weight and can see it, a little bit. I guess Sunday will tell the tale.
I am not going in with any set weight goal for the week, I just want to see loss so I know what I am doing is working, mainly because what I am doing is something I believe I can continue to do.
The question is, can I translate this into my weekend?
Usually, I go out with friends after work. That mean some food, some beers, and some laughs. How much that adds up to during the course of the week, I can't tell you, but I am going to try and cut back starting tonight. We will see.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
It's About The Weight, Stupid
I am fat. Actually, I am obese. I came to that realization over the last week, after acurately weighing myself for the first time in months and then plugging those rather large numbers into “weight-loss calculators” on the web. Granted, I don't know how accurate those things really are, but considering everyone I tried came back with the same conclusion – obese – I'll assume I have a problem here.
This is a problem for me on any number of levels. One, I knew I was overweight, but not considered technically obese. When you're overweight, you can kinda “wordplay” your way around how you actually look. I was “stocky.” Heck, that almost sounds attractive, right? I was plump. Who doesn't like plump? I can't think of one instance where I have heard the word plump used and thought “ewww.” Even fat can be kind of fun. Fat people are jolly. Fat people, a lot of times, are funny, with a lot of personality, a lot of charm, and attractive in their own way. That was me all over, baby! Fat and fun to be around.
But obese? That makes me part of the problem. That means diabetes and injections into my fat stomach and not being able to move from my car to my apartment without needing oxygen.
The other eye-opening thing for me is that, for the first time in my life, I am pushing up dangerously close to the 300 pound mark. I am 288. I am 6'1”, and I am 32-years old. That means I am 12 pounds away from 300, staring 33-years old smack in the face.
Wow. That will wake you up in the morning.
The truth is I had begun the process of trying to lose weight a while ago because, quite frankly, I haven't felt as good as I would like for a long, long time. There are aches and pains that shouldn't be there. Every time I feel some tightness in or around my chest I wonder whether I am about to keel over from a heart attack in my early 30's, then the pain goes away and I realize it was probably a pulled muscle, no doubt strained under the pressure of supporting my fat ass.
I don't play sports anymore, at all. No more basketball. No more tennis. No more volleyball. Nothing that requires any physical exertion. I know I won't last more than a few minutes, so why subject myself to it? Why embarrass myself, especially around friends who haven't allowed themselves to got to shit?
I also realize that, if I really want to find someone in this life, someone to start a family with, I need to lose weight. Look, I we can all play the game about “loving yourself” and having “confidence.” We can talk about feeling attractive even when you're not model material, but if you have to talk yourself into confidence, or feeling good about how you look, then it aint gonna last, and you're not going to find someone you're truly attracted to, and someone who is truly attracted to you.
I am 32, going to be 33 in a few months. For the first time in my life I care about finding someone with whom I can begin a long-term relationship and, having come to this crossroads in my life, I find myself wandering in the land of the obese.
Sufficit to say, something has to change.
So, a while back, I began changing my eating habits little by little. It has been a slow process but I know I have to actually change my lifestyle if I am going to change my weight and my health.
But, now, it is go time. I want to lose real weight, not just a little here and a little there. I had thought I was about 265 or 270. Being 288, I realize I need to lose serious, serious weight.
Ideally? I want to get down to about 210 pounds. If I work out, add some muscle, I figure that would be a good landing spot. I think 210 pounds puts me in the “I can take my shirt off and not worry about scaring little children” range.
How long is that going to take?
I want to achieve that by this time (January 24) next year. I think 12 months should be enough to lose 78 pounds. But, my short-term goal right now is to be down anywhere between 15 and 20 pounds by March 16. That's when I leave for Vegas with my friends for a few days, and I would like to be at a new level at that point. That means February has to be a real dedication on my part.
I am not going all new-age diet on anyone for this. I am sticking to one principle: less calorie intake and more activity means I'll be losing weight. I am just not going to take in the amount of calories I have. I am just going to try and eat a little healthier, and make sure my meals are smaller. I'm not starving myself, just being smarter, and I am making a commitment to working out at least 3 times a week, hopefully four times.
The biggest thing? I have to teach myself not to eat when I'm bored. I don't know how many times I have found myself eating because, hell, there aint nothing better to do. That adds calories, which adds fat, which makes me obese, which makes me mad........I don't like be mad.
Will it work? It has to. There isn't any excuse this time. This is my 2011 “no excuse” year. No more feeling bad for myself. No more getting down about being fat, being alone, being less than what I could be. It's all there for the taking. I am in control of it all. I don't have to be this way. Simply put, I won't be any more.
It all sounds good now, but how long will it last? I am committed to making sure it lasts from now till the end of my life.
So, why blog?
Mainly because it seems to have helped other people. I have read numerous stories about individuals looking to lose weight, chronicling their efforts online. It seems to provide added motivation. A blog is there. The success and failure is there, for not only you to see but others to see as well.
I also hope that, if people find this blog, they will share their own stories, struggles, and, maybe if I am successful in losing the weight I want, perhaps I can offer people hope that it's possible for them, as well.
Look I don't need the federal government to come in and tell me what I can and cannot eat. I just need myself, my prayers, my willpower. That's all. We'll see what the equals in 2011.
Right now, we start at this number: 288.
This is a problem for me on any number of levels. One, I knew I was overweight, but not considered technically obese. When you're overweight, you can kinda “wordplay” your way around how you actually look. I was “stocky.” Heck, that almost sounds attractive, right? I was plump. Who doesn't like plump? I can't think of one instance where I have heard the word plump used and thought “ewww.” Even fat can be kind of fun. Fat people are jolly. Fat people, a lot of times, are funny, with a lot of personality, a lot of charm, and attractive in their own way. That was me all over, baby! Fat and fun to be around.
But obese? That makes me part of the problem. That means diabetes and injections into my fat stomach and not being able to move from my car to my apartment without needing oxygen.
The other eye-opening thing for me is that, for the first time in my life, I am pushing up dangerously close to the 300 pound mark. I am 288. I am 6'1”, and I am 32-years old. That means I am 12 pounds away from 300, staring 33-years old smack in the face.
Wow. That will wake you up in the morning.
The truth is I had begun the process of trying to lose weight a while ago because, quite frankly, I haven't felt as good as I would like for a long, long time. There are aches and pains that shouldn't be there. Every time I feel some tightness in or around my chest I wonder whether I am about to keel over from a heart attack in my early 30's, then the pain goes away and I realize it was probably a pulled muscle, no doubt strained under the pressure of supporting my fat ass.
I don't play sports anymore, at all. No more basketball. No more tennis. No more volleyball. Nothing that requires any physical exertion. I know I won't last more than a few minutes, so why subject myself to it? Why embarrass myself, especially around friends who haven't allowed themselves to got to shit?
I also realize that, if I really want to find someone in this life, someone to start a family with, I need to lose weight. Look, I we can all play the game about “loving yourself” and having “confidence.” We can talk about feeling attractive even when you're not model material, but if you have to talk yourself into confidence, or feeling good about how you look, then it aint gonna last, and you're not going to find someone you're truly attracted to, and someone who is truly attracted to you.
I am 32, going to be 33 in a few months. For the first time in my life I care about finding someone with whom I can begin a long-term relationship and, having come to this crossroads in my life, I find myself wandering in the land of the obese.
Sufficit to say, something has to change.
So, a while back, I began changing my eating habits little by little. It has been a slow process but I know I have to actually change my lifestyle if I am going to change my weight and my health.
But, now, it is go time. I want to lose real weight, not just a little here and a little there. I had thought I was about 265 or 270. Being 288, I realize I need to lose serious, serious weight.
Ideally? I want to get down to about 210 pounds. If I work out, add some muscle, I figure that would be a good landing spot. I think 210 pounds puts me in the “I can take my shirt off and not worry about scaring little children” range.
How long is that going to take?
I want to achieve that by this time (January 24) next year. I think 12 months should be enough to lose 78 pounds. But, my short-term goal right now is to be down anywhere between 15 and 20 pounds by March 16. That's when I leave for Vegas with my friends for a few days, and I would like to be at a new level at that point. That means February has to be a real dedication on my part.
I am not going all new-age diet on anyone for this. I am sticking to one principle: less calorie intake and more activity means I'll be losing weight. I am just not going to take in the amount of calories I have. I am just going to try and eat a little healthier, and make sure my meals are smaller. I'm not starving myself, just being smarter, and I am making a commitment to working out at least 3 times a week, hopefully four times.
The biggest thing? I have to teach myself not to eat when I'm bored. I don't know how many times I have found myself eating because, hell, there aint nothing better to do. That adds calories, which adds fat, which makes me obese, which makes me mad........I don't like be mad.
Will it work? It has to. There isn't any excuse this time. This is my 2011 “no excuse” year. No more feeling bad for myself. No more getting down about being fat, being alone, being less than what I could be. It's all there for the taking. I am in control of it all. I don't have to be this way. Simply put, I won't be any more.
It all sounds good now, but how long will it last? I am committed to making sure it lasts from now till the end of my life.
So, why blog?
Mainly because it seems to have helped other people. I have read numerous stories about individuals looking to lose weight, chronicling their efforts online. It seems to provide added motivation. A blog is there. The success and failure is there, for not only you to see but others to see as well.
I also hope that, if people find this blog, they will share their own stories, struggles, and, maybe if I am successful in losing the weight I want, perhaps I can offer people hope that it's possible for them, as well.
Look I don't need the federal government to come in and tell me what I can and cannot eat. I just need myself, my prayers, my willpower. That's all. We'll see what the equals in 2011.
Right now, we start at this number: 288.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Goodnight little kitty
My grandmother died in December of 2007 and, at that time, I volunteered to take her two animals - a dog named Ranger and cat named Tiger.
Now, Tiger, affectionately called Tiggy by everyone, was a white and orange cat that my grandmother had found years earlier outside her house. She was tiny, skinny, and probably a few days away from death when my grandmother took her in.
I remember when she first told me about her new pet. “JP, she is beautiful,” my grandmother insisted when my mother and I arrived to see the new addition to the family.
There, curled up on my grandmother’s bed, was the most pathetic looking animal on the face of the earth. She had a watery eye, looked sickly, and her hair was matted down, probably because she was running a fever or had some sort of other illness. Sufficit to say, I didn’t see the “gorgeous” cat my grandmother did.
However, when I laid on the bed next to Tiger, she immediately looked up at me, purred, and nestled her head against my arm. She was affectionate, right from the start.
That beautifully warm nature would never change.
She was a pacular cat. She didn’t want to play with anything. It didn’t matter what kind of “toy” you bought, she would simply sniff it and move on. She also didn’t have any kind of a killer instinct.. My grandmother loved to tell the story of how, one time, in her finished basement, a small mouse came out of one of the vents and walked along the edge of the room. Tiggy noticed the varment, approached it, and simply slapped at the mouse a few times before leaving it alone. The mouse, she determined, was good people.
She also didn’t “meow” like other normal cats. Hers was more of a cackle, even at a young age.
While many cats are indifferent to their name, Tiggy would answer any person who called to her. In fact, you could normally have conversations with her by just repeating her name. She also loved to have her belly rubbed. When you would come over, Tiggy would slowly walk up, look at you, flop down about a foot from where you were sitting, and showed her belly.
When my grandmother died and her life was uprooted, it took Tiggy a while to get used to her new surroundings. She was used to a large home with an upstairs and downstairs, and a lot of room to roam. Suddenly, he stomping grounds were by more than half, but she adapted. She still loved to be pet and would jump on my bed at night to go to sleep.
The year before my grandmother passed, Tiggy was diagnosed with a thyroid condition. The vet suggested that medication was an option, although she couldn’t take the one that would do the most good, or surgery, although, at her advanced age, it was unlikely she would survive.
Eventually, the thyroid made her skinny and weak and, tonight, on my couch, Tiggy passed away. It was peaceful, as peaceful as a death can be, and I am grateful she didn’t suffer and didn’t have to be traumatized by being taken to a vet to be put down.
This morning, when I woke up, Tiggy was there, skinny and ill, but still talking, even with a weaker “meow.” Now, at 11 p.m. she is gone. A part of my life is over.
I have often wondered whether I take the death of an animal too poignantly. But, in truth, the cat that died tonight on my couch next to me has been a part of my life for nearly two decades. She was one of the last connections I had to my grandmother and to a simpler life when death didn’t infiltrate so many aspects of my life.
I am glad my little cat is no longer weak and suffering, and as naïve as it might sound, there is a part of me that believes she is, right now, somewhere right now, running around, fat and happy, answering once again to my grandmother’s call. All I know is that death, whether it be of a person or a beloved animal, takes a little piece out of you. It removes a little bit of happiness and love you have. Tonight, I feel somewhat empty, and I wish my cat would be there tomorrow morning when I wake up.
Now, Tiger, affectionately called Tiggy by everyone, was a white and orange cat that my grandmother had found years earlier outside her house. She was tiny, skinny, and probably a few days away from death when my grandmother took her in.
I remember when she first told me about her new pet. “JP, she is beautiful,” my grandmother insisted when my mother and I arrived to see the new addition to the family.
There, curled up on my grandmother’s bed, was the most pathetic looking animal on the face of the earth. She had a watery eye, looked sickly, and her hair was matted down, probably because she was running a fever or had some sort of other illness. Sufficit to say, I didn’t see the “gorgeous” cat my grandmother did.
However, when I laid on the bed next to Tiger, she immediately looked up at me, purred, and nestled her head against my arm. She was affectionate, right from the start.
That beautifully warm nature would never change.
She was a pacular cat. She didn’t want to play with anything. It didn’t matter what kind of “toy” you bought, she would simply sniff it and move on. She also didn’t have any kind of a killer instinct.. My grandmother loved to tell the story of how, one time, in her finished basement, a small mouse came out of one of the vents and walked along the edge of the room. Tiggy noticed the varment, approached it, and simply slapped at the mouse a few times before leaving it alone. The mouse, she determined, was good people.
She also didn’t “meow” like other normal cats. Hers was more of a cackle, even at a young age.
While many cats are indifferent to their name, Tiggy would answer any person who called to her. In fact, you could normally have conversations with her by just repeating her name. She also loved to have her belly rubbed. When you would come over, Tiggy would slowly walk up, look at you, flop down about a foot from where you were sitting, and showed her belly.
When my grandmother died and her life was uprooted, it took Tiggy a while to get used to her new surroundings. She was used to a large home with an upstairs and downstairs, and a lot of room to roam. Suddenly, he stomping grounds were by more than half, but she adapted. She still loved to be pet and would jump on my bed at night to go to sleep.
The year before my grandmother passed, Tiggy was diagnosed with a thyroid condition. The vet suggested that medication was an option, although she couldn’t take the one that would do the most good, or surgery, although, at her advanced age, it was unlikely she would survive.
Eventually, the thyroid made her skinny and weak and, tonight, on my couch, Tiggy passed away. It was peaceful, as peaceful as a death can be, and I am grateful she didn’t suffer and didn’t have to be traumatized by being taken to a vet to be put down.
This morning, when I woke up, Tiggy was there, skinny and ill, but still talking, even with a weaker “meow.” Now, at 11 p.m. she is gone. A part of my life is over.
I have often wondered whether I take the death of an animal too poignantly. But, in truth, the cat that died tonight on my couch next to me has been a part of my life for nearly two decades. She was one of the last connections I had to my grandmother and to a simpler life when death didn’t infiltrate so many aspects of my life.
I am glad my little cat is no longer weak and suffering, and as naïve as it might sound, there is a part of me that believes she is, right now, somewhere right now, running around, fat and happy, answering once again to my grandmother’s call. All I know is that death, whether it be of a person or a beloved animal, takes a little piece out of you. It removes a little bit of happiness and love you have. Tonight, I feel somewhat empty, and I wish my cat would be there tomorrow morning when I wake up.
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