Chrysalis

"Chrysalis," he said plainly.

My friend and I were out for dinner, and halfway through my first beer I'd mentioned how I felt like I wasn't feeling quite right lately. I'd mentioned how I felt these weird jumble of emotions all the time. How sometimes I saw things perfectly as they are and how I was comfortable with how I fit into them. And how other times everything was a jumble and I was totally confused and worried. How I felt I've lost my funny.

"I used to be funny, right? I used to be --"

"Mean." He said back, cutting me off. "You used to be really, really mean."

My mouth curled up in my half-sneer and I grabbed for my beer.

"So now what?" I asked. "What do I do?"

"Chrysalis," he said.

"What? What's chrysalis?" I asked, clearly having forgotten my junior high biology class.

"It's like... it's like a cocoon. You know, butterflies? Look, the caterpillar? He knows what's up. He knows what he's all about. The butterfly? He does too. They ain't about the same thing. They're different. The caterpillar is all about eating and hanging out. The butterfly is all about being sweet. But between the two, there's the chrysalis. It's the part where one becomes the other. That's you. That's where you're at right now. You ain't the caterpillar, but you're not yet the butterfly either."

He's right. I don't know exactly when I stopped being the caterpillar - maybe at twenty-five pounds down? Thirty? When I got under 300? When I mentally decided to move forward and rejoin life? Not sure. At some point I stopped seeing myself as that big, awful version of me that I was. But at the same time, I'm not where I want to be. I'm stuck in the middle. My self-esteem is bruised. My self-perception isn't wholly negative, but when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in office buildings or the bathroom mirror at work, I'm stunned at how bad I still look. I sort of mentally feel like I should look a bit better than I do. Not in a body dysmorphia sort of outlook. Just... I'm ready to be something else. I want desperately to be the butterfly right now.

But I'm not. I'm changing. Evolving. I'm in a chrysalis. But life keeps going on, not waiting for me to catch back up to it.

The day after

So it turns out my Thanksgiving was surprisingly fun. I'd been dreading it as this marks the first time I'd be without family on the holiday, but it turns out that hanging out with a friend and avoiding the stress and hassle of air travel is pretty okay. Though I'd still rather see my parents next year than do this again.

On Wednesday night I went out for pizza and beer, then yesterday for Thanksgiving I had a bucket of KFC. lol! I also didn't work out yesterday, nor today. I'm not skipping - it's a planned absence. Though truthfully I'm missing the gym right now. Guess it's just part of my routine and things seem 'off' without it. And that's a *really* good sign.

I'm also up 1.6 pounds this morning, at 290.0. A bit is real, a bit is sodium-induced water weight gain. I'm a tad concerned, if only because of my typical weekend weight gain. I can't be setting myself back like that this time.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Too often I think I focus on what I want to change. To fix. What's wrong. I'm taking today to think about the things I'm thankful for in my life. I hope you take a couple moments to think about the good things in your life too.

Eat, drink and be of mirth, and care not about what the scale says today, but don't go overboard just because it's a holiday. Tomorrow's not. Don't regret today tomorrow. :)

I think I've lost my fastball

I used to be funny. And by used to, I mean, like just a couple months ago. My humor tended to be mean. Nasty. Vicious. I'd tear other people down fast. I'd be self-deprecating, quicker to attack myself lest someone else do it for me. And by attacking me, I'd be able to keep focus on things I could deal with, without allowing someone else to find and expose my real vulnerable areas.

Now, much like with 3x shirts, I feel like I'm in this bizarre no-man's land when it comes to being funny. I don't dislike myself as much as I once did. As a result, I'm not as quick to pull the trigger on an attack. And I'm much more positive, which keeps me from really attacking and making fun of others. I mean, I still do it, but not with the vim and vigor I once had.

Problem is, I haven't really replaced it with any other kind of humor. So while I appreciate and laugh at funny things, no longer am I funny. And that really sucks! Now I'm just a fat guy, sans the jolly.

I want my funny back. I need my funny back. But at the same time, I don't want to be the mean, nasty vicious person that I was. I don't know. I'm just rambling this morning.

The driver's license

About 18 months ago I got carjacked and mugged. The next day I was doing what I could to quickly get my life back in order; turns out when you lose your phone, all your credit cards and your driver's license, you're kind of hosed.

I went to the DMV and stood in line for awhile, waiting for my turn to get my license. When I filled out the paperwork, I got to the weight question. Ugh. I decided to put down 280, even though I knew I was well over three bills. I don't know why I lied. Well, that's not true. Embarassement. Shame. Ect.

So as of this morning I'm 288.4, which puts me at 3.4 pounds from 50 lost, and 8.4 pounds from an accurate driver's license.

Did you lie on your driver's license? Am I the only one who's done that?

So...

I'd been meaning to do this for awhile. At the same time, I don't want to do it at all. Then I thought, maybe I'll post at 50 pounds down. Then I thought - why wait? I seem to think too much. I'm conflicted?

Essentially, I'm posting a photo of me at my worst. And me only 32% from worst to best. Or decent. Or whatever. I don't even know how I'll look when I get where I'm headed, but it's got to be better than where I am right now.

The thing is, I'm a third of the way there now (roughly), but the change isn't that dramatic in these photos. I'm still huge. Really fucking huge. But I know that when I lose my next 50 (roughly), I'll look considerably better.

Anyway, I tried to put my hand in roughly the same spot, just to give better match these two pics up and give you a decent look at where I'm headed. I can't wait to get there!

(the bad one is on the left, with me in a hat)

And because I'm a glutton for punishment, I took a quick snap of what I looked like in my senior picture. This would have been taken in the fall of 1993, when I was 17. See? Not always a fattie. Oh, and even if I do get my waist back? I think the hair is gone for good. :)

No means no!

Today I got up about 2 minutes before my alarm went off. I was up and getting dressed and ready for the gym very quickly. Once there, I did 20 minutes on the elliptical at lvl 11, and I'm *almost* to 2 miles. I had 1.9 on the distance reading... I've *got* to get to two miles. I want it really bad right now for some reason. I'm thinking that tomorrow I go up to level 12.

I followed that up with deadlifts, high-rows and mid-rows for my back. My shirt was back to the familiar and appreciated dark grey as I was just pouring sweat. I guess that's gross? I don't know. I mean, if I thought about some strange fat dude sweating I'd probably change the mental subject, but when it's *me* sweating, it's a good thing. It makes me happy. It lets me know that I'm doing my job well.

Today I'm wearing the Worst Pants in the World again. Seriously, these things aren't getting it done for me. I've *got* to get rid of them. Thankfully I get my first paycheck on Friday, so I'm looking forward to having a bit of cash in my wallet again.

Speaking of pants, I was on the phone with my mom last night. She said that my dad's been working out and is wearing size 38 jeans again, and when I come down for Xmas I can have his 40s. What??? I don't *want* his 40s! I started to tell her this, and she tried to cut me off, talking about not wasting, blah blah blah... First off, c'mon. Seriously? Not waste? I've never worn that dude's leftover clothes. And now you want me to wear my 57-year-old dad's jeans? No. Then you want me to wear 40s when I've worked down from a 46 to a 38 since July? No! No means no! Outrageous. :) She's got good intentions, but seriously. I don't need those things. And I won't wear that size again. Well, unless I have to buy slacks. Those fuckers are always higher in number.

If she makes me take those jeans back with me, I'm going to light them on fire when I step off the plane. Believe it.

289.7

I hate this.

I lost a friend today. She was once my best friend, and now she doesn't want me to contact her anymore. She says that it's too hard to speak with me. That she needs to move on and can't with me in her life, in any capacity.

I understand her position. So I said goodbye.

I have so few friends. Real, true, tight-knit friends. The ones I'd be more honest with than I sometimes am with myself. She was one of them. She's gone now.

For the first time in years I'm sitting here, crying.

I hate this.

Some days

Some days are easier than others. Some days are harder. Some days we get what we want. Some days we don't.

Ugh.

In other news, I picked up my weekend weight again. Today I'm 292.5. The thing is, it's usually gone by mid-week, but with no Thursday or Friday workout this week, I might have some trouble dumping this. So that's not sweet.

Yay!

This week's hard work has paid off, and this morning the scale read 289.0 even. Yay! Now I'm out of the 90s and into the 80s. This makes me happy. :)

I'll try to post more later.

Still on track

I'm adjusting to the new schedule slowly but surely, and I'm still doing pretty well. Today I'm down another half-a-pound, so yay. I imagine that tomorrow I should be dipping my toe into the 280s and gearing up to leave the 290s behind.

My office is cold. My nose is cold. I'm shivering. Maybe I need to keep this layer of fat? lol.

290.5

Worst. Pants. Ever.

For the second day in a row, I'm wearing The Worst Pants Ever. When I went shopping, I first surveyed what I had in the closet. Two pair of khakis, a couple pair of cargo pants (ahem, looks like those are a no-go here), and a pair of black pants.

Sweet, I thought. I tend to wear mostly blacks and whites, with some khakis and reds in the mix, flavored to taste. So when I went shopping this past weekend, I didn't pick up any black pants.

Oops.

These things? Are total fattie pants. First off, they're too long by a good four inches. My ankles look like they're covered in leg warmers. Then, they've got pleats. Wha? I thought pleats died a terrible death years ago? How the hell did they end up on my pants? And why do they flare out so far, making my crotchal area look like it's got it's own separate spare tire? Seriously, with the belt on, I've got my stomach pooch, then the belt, then the crotch pooch. I look like the Goodyear Tire mascot. Or an asshole. Or maybe both.

The waist of these pants have to be what, a 44? I don't know. It's out of control. They're falling off me! And the belt is the same story, but it's the only belt that sort of semi-fits, and doesn't look like someone would wear it to an Iron Madien concert. The lesson here? I need new belts.

So they're too long, too loose, too pleaty and too awful.

The worst part is, as much as I do enjoy encountering signs of my weight loss like these pants or whatever, I caught a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror that's in our bathroom. I'm still so fucking big. Seriously, I've changed so much over these last 4-5 months as a person. I'd like my body to catch up.

I had once contemplated getting bariatric surgery and have my stomach tied off as a means to an end, but decided not to because 1) I wanted to do it myself and thought that the surgery was a cheap and weak method to lose the weight. Doing this via hard work builds character and changes a person in more ways than just the waistline. And 2) I feared that if I couldn't change my behavior, then I'd end up popping the band like I did my coat's button, and if you go the surgery route and eff that up, where do you go next? But I wonder if at this point it's not the worst idea. I feel like I'm now prepared to have the proper lifestyle to go with my surgery, and keep the weight off.

It just strikes me that a real man wouldn't opt for surgery. He'd work hard. Not for one or two weeks or months, but for as long as it took.

Goddamn this is taking awhile.

291

Quick update

Hey, it's me. It's my second day on the job, and now I officially have computer access - huzzah! And look, already blogging - hope that this doesn't get me a talking to.

I saw the evidence of my Chinese lunch this morning, by way of my lack of total shirt soak after my workout. Always a bit of a letdown when my heather grey t isn't charcoal grey through and through on my way out the door of the gym, though I did bust my hump on the exercises.

I'm up to 1.9 miles on the elliptical in 20 minutes. Tomorrow morning I'll kick it up to lvl 11 and see if I can't get to two miles done. I'm starting to entertain fantasies of running a 5k at some point. I realize that smoothly loping along the elliptical is nothing like running 5k on hard pavement, but I'd like to at least get a better understanding of my real-world fitness level. Unfortunately with winter pretty much here, I don't know of too many races in the Twin Cities. I'm assumming that there's a Snow Rabbit race or two though, so I'll look into it when I get home.

Other than that, not too much to report. I'm just doing the best I can, and I'm staying intently focused on my goal - I'm almost in the 80s!

291.7

New Schedule (again).

So with the new job, I've got a new schedule as well. I start work at 8:30 instead of 9:30 like before. This means that I'll not have the time to come home and blog after the gym! I'm not too sure what that fact means for me or this blog just yet.

I'd like to think that I'll still get it done in the evening, but the fact is, I don't come home straight from work every night. I may end up blogging over my lunch at work, though that's a bit spotty too (all our internet usage is monitored and recorded, and we're all subject to random audits - I don't know where this fits into that).

So I don't know. I do know that I don't want to give this up. It's too important. Chronicling my successes and failures keeps me focused on my main goal right now, and helps to reinforce my positive behaviors and makes me face my negative ones. So I don't want to lose that. I'm also not yet even a third of the way to my goal of 150 pounds lost, so I can't just assume that by letting go of this thing I'd be alright. I firmly believe that this is just as important as a good diet and daily exercise to my continued journey, and that if this goes, the diet could go and the exercise could go. It's all a slippery slope.

Oh, and for the record, I opted for the 3x shirts. While I reject the lifestyle that they represent, I would prefer to look presentable at work, and not jammed into a too-tight shirt, straining to be free like a link of packed sausage. But that's just me. :)

Get this sofa outta here!

Yesterday I was lamenting my old sofa that was standing upright in my kitchen, too big for me to carry out by myself, and even if I could, where would it go?

Then, as if by magic, I got a call from my buddy Brian. "Hey, what's going on?" he asked.

"Not much. Just hoping to get this stupid couch outta here."

"Ooh, I have a truck. Should I come over and help?"

Seriously... how things tend to work out for me like this by pure luck I don't know, but I don't question it.

Anyway, he and another friend show up and after a bit of chit-chatting, we begin to get the sofa out of the apartment.

After wresting it out the door, Brian turns to Nigel and says, "Gosh, Roder's pretty strong Nige." I overheard it and said nothing, but smiled inside a bit.

Once downstairs with the sofa, we then had to carry it for what seems like a 1/4 mile through the courtyard. Brian was on one end and I held the other end and we walked with the couch, but about halfway down the walk Brian set down his end. "I need a breather, hang on," he said.

"Nigel, can you grab that?" I asked. Nigel tagged in and picked it up and we kept going.

Here's the thing. Brian's in shape. Good shape. He runs or bikes several miles everyday. So for him to get wiped out carrying the couch down and out, while the likes of my fat ass just lifting it and carrying it? Let's just say I felt pretty good.

Lifting weights is kinda sweet. :)

291.5

Hope and the Winter Coat

Last year, sometime just past a couple weeks into the new year I believe, I had kind of hit rock bottom in terms of looking towards my own future. I'd just sort of... I don't know... checked out I guess.

I remember it specifically, because I'd outgrown my winter coat in grotesquely horizontal fashion. I couldn't button it anymore, and hadn't been able to for awhile. So I primarily just, you know, wore it open. Luckily what I'd lost in fabric coverage I guess I'd made up for with several inches of fat, so I didn't freeze to death, though it had occurred to me that I was at a sort of crossroads.

So I made a decision. I decided that I was a fat guy. I'd been big for a few years at that point, and didn't see any future that didn't feature a fat version of me. I'd lost hope. The hope that I was going to take care of myself again. That I was going to love myself again. I'd become so miserable that I was resigned to living an empty and unhappy life rather than work to improve my station. So in deciding that I was now just a fattie for life, I bought a new coat. It was beautiful. A 3/4 length black Calvin Klein wool and cashmere for $500 - on sale. It brought me a fleeting happiness - I was covered again, and looked a bit better, but it was also damning - I'd paid quite a bit for confirmation that I'd chosen this road over the other.

I continued down the newly-chosen road. And a month later I burst a button on the new coat. I didn't bother getting it fixed. I just wore it open.

Two weeks ago it started getting cold again. I pulled the coat out of the closet, went to a repair shop and had a new button sewed on. Then I put on the coat again.

It doesn't fit.

The sleeves now run long, covering my hands to just past my thumbs. The sides need to be brought in. I can grab the front buttons and pull the coat away from myself - easily seven or eight inches. I look like a fourteen-year-old boy wearing his father's overcoat.

And that brings me to my current conundrum - my new job starts Monday morning, and its dress code dictates a new wardrobe on my part. No more jeans and short-sleeved bowling shirts paired with tennis shoes. I want to make a good impression on these people, and I want to look the part, but I don't want to spend a fortune on clothes I'm simply not going to be able to wear in two or three more months. So I've been putting that off all week... I'm caught somewhere between a 2xl and a 3xl for shirts, and I don't know what to do. Buy the 2x and look like an asshole for a little bit? Buy the 3x and flush some money, then go shopping again in a couple months? Buy only like... two shirts and make it work? Ehh... probably not that. And then there's the slacks...

So I don't want to go shopping. I don't want to go shopping because somewhere along the way I found my hope again. And that hope has transformed into effort and hard work. I no longer hope that I'll lose the weight. I now know that I will. I've rejected the idea that I'm a fattie for life. So buying the 3x shirt is tantamount to buying back the unhappiness, the embarassment, the life I've decided to leave behind.

Goddamn hope is expensive. :-D

I'm taking the day off.

Nothing much to say here, except that watching four Star Wars movies in a row yesterday left me feeling more sluggish and tired than any gym workout yet.

292.2

Vacation Day 3

"I'm going to have to charge you for that," she said, barely audible over the heavy scratching sound and my own heavy breathing as I pushed the big mattress through the snow and slush-filled parking lot.

"I'm sorry?" was all I could muster, peering around the end of the now-soaked and surprisingly heavy mattress at the apartment manager walking towards me, ten minutes away from starting her eight am shift.

"It won't be much, only twenty bucks or so, but the waste removal company charges us for big stuff like that, so I have to charge you."

I nodded quietly, the sweat from my morning's workout still running off my forehead and dripping off my brow. "Sure, okay. I understand. Whatever," I said as I resumed parting the slush with the mattress.

"You look good," she called as I past her. "You've lost a lot of weight. I can see it. Still going strong. You look good."

"Thanks," I said. "Just drop the bill off at the apartment when it's convenient."

That was nice. And unexpected. Turns out I like random compliments. I'm not even mad about the $20. lol.

292.9

Hey there

Another solid day at the gym this morning. I had great workouts all last week, and two good ones so far this week too, so yay me on that front.

Yesterday my schedule *was* off as predicted. I didn't get to lunch until around 2:30ish, then went to a movie and didn't finish my dinner until 8ish. I was in bed by 10pm (whoo, this vacation... I'm so wild!), so I guess I'm not too surprised to see a half-pound uptick in my weight today. But I'm not really loving it either. It's already just about the middle of the month now, and I'm concerned that I'm going to start having some really bad weight loss months if I keep treading water as I have been.

I feel a bit emotionally distracted from my main mission recently, so I'm just going to have to do a better job of eliminating that for the time being. I need to be more focused on dropping lbs, so that's what I'm going to do.

I'm bored.

So technically I haven't yet had a minute of vacation (I don't normally roll into work until 9:15~9:30 and it's only 7:45 right now), but I'm officially bored. I don't have any bum friends to hang out with, and I'm suddenly really not looking forward to filling an entire 7 days by sitting about the house, alone.

I have a feeling that I'm going to go out shopping. A lot. I have a greater feeling that this is going to be a *very* expensive week.

Okay, let's see... Friday I went out after work for cocktails with friends. The first place was cool - just a big table for lots of us to gather 'round at and drink and tell stories. Lots of laughs. Good times. I had 7 or 8 beers there (these pear cider things - the first one was quite tart, but suddenly they were just flowing) as people came and went. Eventually it was just me and three of the women from work. We decided - dancing! So we went to a little dance spot in St. Paul. Several more beers and Jagermeister bombs later and I was out on the dancefloor, having a great time.

Saturday morning came and suddenly I wasn't feeling so good. I found a random Gatorade in the fridge (score!), and laid on the couch for several hours, trying to watch something but seeing absolutely nothing. Ugg. I got it together enough to go out and meet up with some friends for a bit, but didn't stay too long. I was back home, and napping on the couch. Hangovers are apparently a long, drawn-out process for me.

Yesterday I woke up and drove down to see one of my friends. We went to her sister's place to watch football where I had two beers and a big slice of pizza. We then went and toured the city where I went to high school. Afterward we had dinner (I picked at some walleye cakes - not hungry, but had two beers), then went to a bar to watch the evening game. The first bar we went to was a dud, so we went to a second one. It too was lame. At halftime I called it and drove home. Again, not the healthiest choices for my food, but I was very conscience about portion size and didn't go overboard.

Today I'm hanging at 294.7. I've really got to be careful this week as I've got no structure, save for my morning workouts. It's times like this that absolutely kill me. I don't eat at noon exactly, I eat.... whenever. I don't eat at 5:30, I eat.... whenever. I've got to be careful that if I'm eating whenever, I'm not eating whatever too. Honestly, as important as hitting the gym and doing my elliptical and lifting weights is to my program (and the exercise is so very important), getting a good diet every day is so much more important in my estimation. Because I can skip the gym and not blow up for a day or two, but a couple days of poor food choices and I blow up like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

Prison cells of our own making

Sweet - today's my last day at the current job! Last night I went out for dinner and drinks with a pair of my friends, one I'd not seen in probably 3 years. It was great to see him again. And then he invited another buddy to join us and didn't tell me, so when that guy walked through the door? I about hit the floor.

When I started getting big, I pulled away from my social life. I didn't realize it at the time, but I'd begun to build an invisible prison cell for myself. Where I used to have plans every Thurs, Fri and Saturday night, suddenly I stopped calling people. Stopped taking people's calls. I said things like, "hey, I'm not feeling well tonight," or "I've got something else going on" when in reality I just didn't want to go. I didn't want to be seen. And that sort of self-destructive behavior only beget more and more of the same old. Pretty soon I'd become a hermit, cloistered away from people, hiding in a dark room with the remote control and a pizza. Ugg!

So lately I've been going out. Just about every night for the past couple weeks. And tonight I'm going out again, for a little gathering of co-workers present and past to say goodbye. And I intend to have fun! No doubt I'll pay for it in the morning, but whatever. It's worth it. I'm still bigger now than when I stopped being social, but I'm moving in the right direction. I've let myself out of the prison. :)

Thursday

Hey all. Not too much going on in my world today. I just got back from the gym after arm day. I'm feeling pretty good about that. Yesterday's chest day was pretty huge, and today I can really feel the soreness of the muscles as they work to repair the small tears that lifting weights has caused, growing bigger and stronger. So yay to that. :)

My forearms are continuing to get more muscle definition. Now when I flex them, there are three distinct lines that pop out. They're only three inches long each at the moment, but I'm pretty confident that'll change as more fat weight continues to drop off and I keep up exercises that use a strong grip. Also, I've been wearing those Lucky Brand jeans quite a bit. Pretty much every day last week! lol. Also, my buddy Dan said that he's starting to lose more weight around his middle and will be giving me a ton of size 36 jeans in the not-too-distant future. That's cool, though I know that it'll be several months before I fit into those guys. Which is fine. I'm here for the long haul.

It's been almost 4 months of consistent gym exercise for an hour 5 days a week now. I'm down 40 pounds, I have tons of energy, I have become quite social again, I don't smoke after 13 years... things are going well. I'm pleased. Hope you're doing well too.

Wanted

On this past Sunday night my current boss called me. I had company over and we were just going to sit down for some takeout and a dvd, but I ended up talking to him briefly. He wanted to talk about some random project at work, but what he *really* wanted to do was tell me that he wanted to keep me on staff. He wanted to give me a counter-offer, matching my new salary at the new place. I gave him a couple soft, indirect 'no's, then told him that I'd do lunch with him and we could discuss it. I always prefer to do important things face-to-face. Even though I'm a terrible player of politics and an even worse liar, so when pressed I tend to make weird faces and clam up or have my words come out in short, staccato phrases, I still have an idealistic way in my mind of how a man should act and be, and part of that means handling business 'as a man should', regardless of how not a man I sometimes feel. And as I resigned over the phone as he was out of town, I feel like I owe it to him and myself to join him and give him my reasons for leaving. And I also feel like I owe it to him out of respect.

But this brings me to my point today - his call? His wanting to do lunch? His counter-offer? It makes me feel wanted. Needed. It's a feeling I crave.

I don't have any siblings. My parents live 1000 miles away, in Texas, and I see them twice a year at most (and won't see them for Thanksgiving this year as I don't have any vacation time at the new position for 30 days after my start date). I haven't had anyone special in my life in several years. And I've gone through a long period of self-loathing and disgust. But suddenly, both this new place, and my current place, want me. Me! Not just an applicant. Not someone with the requisite skill set to complete set tasks. They want Andrew. It makes me feel good.

So I'll do lunch with him. And I'll be polite and charming and gracious and respectful and will at the end decline his counter-offer.

Now I just need to feel wanted by someone in my personal life. Yesterday I went to lunch with some friends, and we went for Chinese food. My fortune cookie? "Watch for a new relationship to develop within the month." I don't believe in fortune cookies or tarot cards or magic or ghosts.

But I'm hopeful. I'm hopeful that I'll find someone who wants to be with me.

Wow, this took a weird left turn. I should edit it. But I won't.

294.5 - that's forty pounds friends. :)

vote!

It's election day in America, so today I plan on doing my civic duty and voting. I'm always surprised at the general apathy of my peers when it comes to voting, though I don't know why anymore. My vote doesn't matter... the lines are too long... blah blah blah. C'mon people, this country was founded on the idea of giving people a voice! There are billions across the globe who have no voice at all, and thousands who die trying to be heard. Do the right thing. Vote.

And when you're done, enjoy a healthy salad, some water and then go exercise. ;)

Holy crap!

So my biggest problem area has been the weekends (and lately those damn candybar in a cup coffees - ahem). Upticks of five, ten, even twelve pounds (!) have been documented via my scale, if not on this blog. And that, coupled with my overall weight-loss slowdown recently, had me worried going into this past weekend.

Saturday I woke up around 8:30. I dilly-dallied as I'm often want to do, then began my day in earnest, showering and meeting up with some friends for lunch. I ended up going with the Chinese (seriously, Chinese food? The best. My total weakness.), though I dialed it back to just the 'lunch size' version, rather than the obnoxious size that they normally sell me. And at some point while eating, I got full. There was still several large pieces of chicken on the plate, but I was just done. I tossed 'em. Then I drank about 4 waters throughout the afternoon, before deciding to pack it in and head home. For dinner I did a Subway Club and water. I cleaned a bit, did some laundry and had a mostly quiet evening.

Sunday morning I stepped on the scale - 297.8! What the hell? That's *never* where I am on a Sunday morning! I had a quick muffin/coffee breakfast, then one of my friends came to visit. We did various activities, had a small lunch (I had eggrolls - I can't stop with the Chinese!), then for dinner I indulged in a burger, though thankfully the fries were cold and gross by the time we'd gotten home to eat. Not my best day, though portion control was in full effect.

Today? 295.5. Half-a-pound from 40, and only three days past the mini-goal I'd set for myself. Time to think about being in the 280s.