100 Days

First, let me apologize for not doing an entry yesterday. A major (well, major for this town) story broke last night and I had to write three articles about it for today’s paper. It happens.

As for today, right now, this very second, I am not a happy man. Actually, I am just fine, but as far as this diet goes, I am not happy at all.

The problem is I don’t know what I am upset about. Perhaps it is the fact that my stomach is absolutely full of salami, pepperoni and bread right now, a result of the Taste of Italy sandwich I got from Subway today. Perhaps it is the realization that I won’t come close to getting down to 270 by the time I go home next week. Perhaps it is the lack of ability to rationalize that fact by saying it isn’t my fault. It is my fault. I kind of screwed it up.

But that’s not really a big deal either. I have definitely slowed down the weight loss process, which I don’t mind. The good thing is that I am still losing weight and that shouldn’t change any time soon.

So what’s wrong? Maybe I just feel like I am still fat. Of course, I feel that way because I actually am. Sure, as I’ve said in the past, it is a different kind of fat than I was, but it is still fat. Perhaps in my own personal world, whatever accolades people toss my way on a regular basis don’t add up to anything in my mind because I know that I could be so much further along.

And maybe that gigantic sandwich I ate four hours ago has me in a depressed mood. Perhaps food really is a drug, an upper (or downer?), providing euphoria only as long as you can prevent swallowing. Once the stomach fills, you realize how much it isn’t worth it. It’s not worth it because you can only taste the salami once. And the better it is, the quicker it goes down. It teases you, harasses you, makes you feel loved, like a quarter peep show.

But it leaves so quickly, and then you realize that 10 minutes of gratification ruined the potential of a whole day. You think about the oatmeal you had in the morning and wonder why, if you were going to eat like this anyway, you didn’t have four eggs and a pound of sausage. You remember that bland tuna with the crappy mayo and fat free bread you had for lunch and it dawns on you that McDonald’s double cheeseburgers are only 99 cents. You could have had five of them! But you didn’t. And you wonder why you woke up determined to eat right, just like every day, but somewhere around 2 p.m. you started thinking about pizza, then wanted burgers and then settled on a sandwich that has salami, pepperoni, cheese, mayo, mustard. And then you wonder exactly what you were thinking when you got another sandwich, a six-inch salami, pepperoni and ham concoction for later. That one was good, too, but did you really enjoy it?

And you sit in your wooden chair, feeling the involuntary movements of your stomach. You can sense your colon backing up, you know the release point is coming soon, but still, it will be a surprise. You wait for the stomach pains, wonder if they’re visiting you tonight. They might not. But even when you go to bed you know the chance remains that you will be awakened at 4 a.m. by a bottle rocket shooting out of your stomach, not unlike the scene in Alien, the one that caused you to swear, at the age of five years old, that you would never drink Bush beer.

And if those stomach pains come, you’ll think about the sandwich you ate. You’ll want another one even as you are squatted on the toilet forcefully pushing that reluctant waste out of your body. It won’t come. You know you’ll have to try at least four times before success. You’ll think about taking a laxative and calling in sick to work. You’ll lay on the couch watching the same Sportscenter episode over and over – the Tigers beat the Yankess, the Indians beat the White Sox, the Mavs beat the Suns, the Hurricanes beat the Sabres, the Tigers beat the Yankees, the Indians beat the White Sox….

You’ll think long and hard about the same things you thought about the last time this happened. No more, you’ll tell yourself. This has to stop! Know your limitations because eating like this is not part of your world anymore.

But you know you’ll go home in a week and find yourself in the same situation at least twice. Why? Because you never really learn. And while you came so far to change yourself, you know you can never fully leave your past behind. Your wants will always battle your will. They never go away. How could they? They created you. They controlled you fore so long. You expect them to vacate after five months? It won’t happen, especially when you fall into the cycle of indulgence, a world of rewards and breaks and a little of this won’t hurt.

Yes, you’ve come a long way from the start. Yes you are new, improved, more attractive, more mobile, less at risk for serious health problems. But you’ll still stand there in the bathroom mirror wearing nothing but green mesh shorts, shirt off, staring at your torso. Your chest hair will be uneven, growing in oddly placed patches, your nipples will be of no known shape. You’ll eye up your man boobs in an effort to figure out if, and how much, they’ve reduced since the start. You’ll grab loose skin around your stomach, you’ll slide your finger into your belly button to see how many knuckles go in. You’ll do disgusting things to yourself, all the while thinking about that sandwich and how it tasted and what it did to your insides (bad) and your outsides (horrible).

Then you’ll curse yourself for being so difficult. Isn’t indulgence ok once in awhile? Don’t most dieters, successful ones even, take at least a meal off per week? But you won’t believe it is ok because you are still scared of your past. You know how you work. Sure, you beat yourself this time, but what happens the next time? Do you have the will to do it again?

Eventually the stomach pain will die and you’ll be given new motivation in a new day. And what you do with it, you swear, will be the things you should have been doing all along.