Day 26-30 - Frustrations and Staying The Course

Let's just say that I'd seen better days. I was involved in what can best be described as a nearly catastrophic computer issue, coupled with a crushing blow to my self-esteem. It wasn't the best start to what should have been a great weekend.

The scale dipped below the 250 mark for the first time, and I was feeling positive about the hard work I'd been putting forth. And even though I knew it would only be temporary, I also knew that having it permanently settle in the 240's wasn't that far off. I had a taste of it, and I wanted more. However, it would have to wait for a little while longer because it was Thanksgiving weekend, and the anticipation of the meals to follow outweighed my small contact with the 240's. Not to say that portion control and good sense were going to be completely forgotten, but I wasn't about to deny myself what would likely be the final celebration of food until late December. This weekend was customarily one that would leave me reeling from the sheer intake I would overload myself with. It wouldn't have been an uncommon notion to have gained 6-8 pounds over the course of this 72 hour span, I'm sure I had done it before. But this time I knew I had to have self-control. I didn't want throw away all I had accomplished up to this point for one weekend of gluttonous bingeing. But, there were forces working against me, namely myself.

I received a message from someone on the morning of Day 27, posing a very strange request. They had wanted me to model for a calendar, featuring men of "less than fit body types". Now, I'm a funny guy, and I poke fun of myself on occasion, but I don't like the way I look, and that's one of the reasons I started this crusade in the first place. I understood the humour and the direction they had intended, but I read and re-read that e-mail countless times, becoming more depressed and hurt with each passing scan. My initial reaction was to respond with two very choice monosyllabic words, but I thought better of that option and sent a proper response, knowing that they likely didn't intend it to be as hurtful as it was. I soon realized I had a very strong craving for ice cream, cookies, and/or a Slurpee. What should have been incentive (albeit negative) to get active, had regressed to a desire for "comfort food". The same snacks that had put me in this position were now supposed to help pull me out of it. Again with the pretzel logic. I had to suppress the urge to "eat myself happy" and stay the course, but considering the bounty of food that was going to be made available, it would be no easy task.

My parents were away for the weekend, so there would only be one major meal to contend with, the in-laws, and I arrived emotionally tattered and ready to stuff myself. It's extraordinarily difficult to deny your body what your brain desires. I wanted seconds of everything on the table, and there was more than enough to accommodate. I sat back helplessly and watched the plate of stuffed baked potatoes slowly cool and shrivel, relegated to the much less glamourous world of leftovers. So too, the tender roast pork, doomed to the same fate, awaiting me to pluck another helping from it's bounty but instead slowly drying up, destined for tomorrow's sandwiches. An evening of firsts, that contained no seconds. I couldn't remember a time prior where I wouldn't be trudging to the couch with a loosened belt, but I suppose this is how it now needed to be. I wasn't joining in the ritual of pleasant regret this year, all the other guests leaned back in their chairs with a mighty exhale, the pop of their pants' button signaling their complete satisfaction. I would have to fight for every inch, claw for every fraction of a pound, and I'm the only one responsible for the outcome.

The remainder of the weekend consisted of me running program after program, salvaging what I could from the malfunctioning drive. Thankfully, it wasn't a terminal mechanical problem, so I managed to recover the data, but had to shell out for a new drive. I spent a fair amount of time on the floor, navigating small connectors with large fumbling fingers, repeatedly swapping hardware in hopes of archiving every last bit of information. After a few late evenings, everything had returned to normal. Back to a world of regulated portions and mealtimes, consistent bursts of activity, and a positive attitude reassuring myself why I must continue to push on.