My weight didn’t vary a lot in my thirties and forties. There was a brief period of time around the turn of the century when I was consulting, which meant I lived on the road and ate out and drank more than usual, where I puffed up like a blowfish. When that gig ended and I got a job in Connecticut, I got on the scale and was aghast that I was thirty pounds heavier and exceeded two hundred pounds for the first time in my life. Around that same time, K asked how I would feel about going on a diet together, which was fortuitous timing. I lost seven pounds the first week (she lost 2 and hated me), and within three months I lost all the weight I had gained, and then some.
Since then, I have been able to maintain that weight for the most part. There might have been an occasion where my work clothes felt snugger than I liked, but I would fetch my diet crutch (WW) and get back to where I wanted to be in a reasonably short period of time.
My battle of the bulge took a different turn when MS dug it’s hooks into me. During the summer and warm weather months, I could still work in the yard and generally not sit around as much, which meant I was more active and ate less. Winter was a different story, where other than snow removal, I would come home from work, get into my sweats, plop myself in from of the television, and snack. Thus began the viscous cycle of gaining ten to fifteen pounds of winter fat, and losing most of it between April and October. Keep in mind I said most of it, which means that each year I was a little heavier than the year before.
This past winter was no different, and by the time April rolled around, buttoning my slacks and the collar of my shirts became a struggle, so back onto WW I went. The only problem is once I shed about half the amount I wanted, my clothes became comfortable again. I lost my mojo, decided that counting points and weighing food was more of a pain in the ass than it was worth, and started to wing it, which never works.
So I am currently in no-man’s land. I have not reached my weight goal, but am not invested in the process of getting there. Meanwhile the scale has become my enemy.
While K would argue this point, it isn’t that I eat badly. Other than coffee, I don’t eat breakfast, and lunch usually consists of a large Tupperware container of cut up vegetables, sunflower seeds and cheese, followed by a piece of fruit. I also don’t pig out at dinner. My problem is I like to snack at night. So it is not necessarily what I eat, but when.
Part of this struggle I’m sure is age. As the stench of 60 gets closer, my metabolism is slower, and my energy isn’t what it used to be. It’s getting to the point where since it is so hard to shed the weight and so easy to put it back on, part of me that thinks, why bother anymore? I’ve reached a stage of my life where I shouldn’t have to worry about this kind of stuff. It’s not like I have to get leaner because I’m on the prowl to find a partner in life, or want to get naked with some chickie to get my rocks off. So what if I’m a little heavier. I wear it well. All I have to do is buy some new clothes and not get huge.
If it were only that simple. First of all, I’m self conscious about the way I look, and am harsh on myself in that regard. If you saw me I am sure you would ask what the big deal was, and tell me I’m being too hard on myself. And you would be correct. The problem is I think I should have the body I had in my thirties and forties. Hey, I never said I was rationale.
Secondly, I have a hard enough time dragging this carcass around, with the MS. Having to carry excess weight makes it that much harder, so it behooves me to find a happy medium. As sedentary as I have become, I know that eating well, and maintaining a healthy weight is important for my overall health, MS not withstanding. The problem is that what medical professionals consider a healthy weight for someone my age and height is simply not going to happen.
Lastly, I am cheap when it comes to spending money on myself. The idea of buying new clothes because I don’t have the discipline to lose weight and consistently maintain it so I don’t feel like I am putting ten pounds of sugar into a five pound bag pisses me off.
So, I’m not going to say fuck it and let the weight chips fall where they may. I will try to be a good boy at night and eat healthy snacks. Perhaps I need to listen to what K has long been preaching, which is to eat more during the day so I am not as ravenous at night. I’ll also stick to water and seltzer for weeknight beverages.
I can be a real stubborn guy when I set my mind of something, so I’ll try to keep my weight within a range I can live with. I know there will be rough patches where that is easier said than done, but if those will become fewer and fewer if I follow this plan.
Meanwhile, I will continue to scream at the scale when I don’t.