(This is the part where I write a clichéd post about realizing that I’m not in my early 20s anymore)
It came to my attention late last week that I am overweight. As in “you better lose some weight, tubby, or that diabetes that’s on both sides of your family will kick in a couple of decades early” overweight.
That realization didn’t set in about three weeks ago during a trip to Old Navy where I bought size 40 waist jeans… where my choices in jeans were sparse because it’s not profitable for a store to stock a trendy clothing line for fatbodies. (If they don’t care enough about their appearance to vomit up their lunch, they’re not as likely to care enough about their appearance to shop at Old Navy, I’d imagine the sales numbers would tell us).
Nor did it set in a couple of months before that when I started to notice semi-permanent red marks in my gut from where my belt buckle presses against it.
Nor even did it set in a couple of months before that when two after-work beers sapped all the energy from me time and again.
It set in when I stepped on my friend’s bathroom scale a few days ago and saw that I am pushing about 250 pounds. Maybe it’s J-School kicking in, but I often need numbers for something to become real to me.
That led me to the realization that I need not just to go on a diet (which I’m going to do starting Nov. 1, by the way), but that I have outgrown the luxury of being able to eat what I want, when I want.
When shouldering adult responsibilities, spontaneity generally leads to a costly indulgence — a self-destructive behavior like an impulse purchase that you’ll be paying for for months, or getting drunk and being hungover at work the next day.
The choice of what to eat was one of the last vestiges of spontaneity remaining in my life. Losing it (along with some of those other behaviors) is bittersweet, because my life overall is much richer now than it was even a year ago, in no small part because of the responsibilities I’ve taken on. I occasionally miss not having to worry about the consequences of what I do, but the trade-off is worth it to me.
I am a member of the club myself. I find that I am trapped in transition right now. The fun irresponsible days of my college years and whatever life is going to become in the next few years are blurring together.
I have never been thin, but in the last couple of years I have gained about thirty pounds. I have begun to watch what I eat a little more. Still in transition though, I tend to falter. I have to find a balance. I need to keep the more detrimental things of old that I truly do like in moderation, and cut the fat of the things I tend to just do habitually now. I need to eat more intelligently, drink only in moderation, quit using tobacco completely, and get off my fat ass a lot more. There are few other things that I do that I have already whittled down to an acceptable level of moderation. I have found a balance on them that makes them tend to be more fun, relaxing, and life-enriching
as opposed to being habitual. It’s part of growing up I guess. Good luck.
Thanks Lush. Laying off the traditional vices hasn’t been as hard as I thought it’d be (I’ve probably cut 90+ percent of my drinking, virtually no tobacco, haven’t smoked pot in about three years), but I think I’ve been compensating for it lately with food. It’s like we were talking about with Rick: if it’s not booze, it’s something else.
Yeah, I’m glad to hear that realization. Diets are stopgap measures for people who are unwilling to actually change their lifestyles.
Sure, I lost weight dieting in the past, but the only weight I lost and never gained back was lost through lifestyle change. Good luck with yours.
I’ve met that realization in my many years…about three or four times! Just wait until you see your mid-forties…you body actually starts beating the crap out of you daily…and you still gain a pound a day.
A little over a year ago I bumped into someone I used to work with in corporate America. The first thing he said to me was that I looked like I gained a little weight and looked good. Of course, back in the day, I was nearly a toothpick.
At the time, none of my suit pants fit me. I’ve gradually had to move from 31 waist to 33 or (eek!) 34. At some point, my doctor told me that the food didn’t matter that much, even as I reassured him that I started watching what I was eating. He told me I needed to move more. After moving to midtown and starting to commute mostly by bike, I can now fit into my suit pants again.
Not that I would encourage that you take up biking right now — way too cold, it is! Brr!
Exercise is the key. I have lost a great deal of weight before primarily by dieting. I did gain the weight back. It took eight years though. The diet consisted of essentially starving myself. I hate exercising. I am an American, and I want instant results. The actual act of performing physical activity burns very few calories. Consistently doing it speeds up the metabolism though. You are then burning more calories all the time. I fucking hate exercising. I don’t mind hiking, but I might want some good sensimilla for the walk. That’s one of those things that I have found to actually enrich my life in moderation.
Me too. I don’t like exercising much, either. When I was at Ga. State, for several months I made regular visits to the gym (err… “recreation center”) — but I went with friends. It helped a lot that going was part of a social activity, not just to exercise.
So, now that I’m off on my own, I’ve had to incorporate the activity into my lifestyle.
[...] Since October 23 when I wrote my missive about not being able to eat what I want anymore, I went on the South Beach Diet. And when I weighed myself this morning, I clocked in at 225 lbs., which is 25 less than I was when I started. Not too shabby for about a month and a half (didn’t start until a week or two after the post). [...]