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My Winter of Eating Dangerously

August 22, 2011

After working out for five years, visiting Wal-Mart and seeing that damn DVD, my attitude adjustment was indelibly set and my mind clicked back to a mode I hadn’t thought of in twenty-five years.  Although always trending toward porcine, for a good ten to fifteen years of my life I was, more or less, athletic.  Pedaling my stationary bike in the dark took my cardiovascular efficiency and muscle tone out of the geriatric range.  I re-discovered that there are really very few ways to build or maintain muscle mass and lose weight at the same time.  They all involve limiting the carbohydrates and fats in your diet to an absolute minimum while at the same time providing your body with enough protein to actually make and maintain muscle.

The goal was pretty obvious, but in order to get down to human size I had to first hit the beach with shock and awe to break my deeply engrained sense of food entitlement – the psycho-physiological dependence on food as an unquestioned part of my daily life.

While I had to channel my Inner Fascist to get this done, this only describes one element of this regimen’s most important requirement – the extreme mindset it takes to adhere to a draconian limitation in the types of foods I consumed.  For a defined time frame, any “cheating” had to equal complete failure – not at the moment for the moment, but the failure of my entire ethos for change.  I became fat by suspending my grasp on my own reality, so an uncompromising buy-in was the only way I could get real.

Backed into this corner, I thought about my dating days when I had to impress the focus of my amorous desires “by any means necessary”.  I remembered when finding the right shirt, haircut, aftershave (remember Hai Karate?), drink, and music was the central focus of my pre-career life.  That primordial “mate or die” focus compelled me to buy bellbottoms.  If I could spend that much time and money looking like an idiot to impress someone else 35 years ago, I realized it might be possible to recreate that intensity to force me to dive off a cliff with no option to wimp out.

I also had a pre-Dad manhood memory of what it was like when a girlfriend betrayed my trust.  Her dumping me would trigger a shut down of all recognition of her existence.  Back in the day, my fellow hound dogs and I would call this “the freeze out”.  Well, it was pretty easy to see how my love affair with food had screwed me.  My trust in its seeming loving caress of my innards resulted in their grotesque distention.  It was time to “freeze out” those foods that had transformed my body into an alien blob that surrounded my “real” body, the one I once had while dating.

I had to find a way to get the “X” out of my present day wardrobe.  And this was not about fashion.  This was about the unrelenting depressing quality of having to purchase clothes that I knew were meant for truly obese people that just happened to fit me.  It was attitude that got me into this situation – an attitude of denial and diversion.  And it was attitude that would get me out of it.

Beyond finding my Inner Fascist and getting psyched to do something that had the radical qualities of my youth, I understood there was an immediate benefit.  Not only was extremism my best shot at getting results – the full both feet jump in provided an immediate “victory” without dropping an ounce.  I had to start “kicking ass” versus getting my ass kicked by others’ perceptions of my bloatedness.

Once I crossed over to the Dark Side of irredeemable conviction, I had to create a menu that could accommodate my pre-existing ways of eating:

a.       The food had to be readily available and easily and quickly prepared.

b.      Restaurants had to offer the food.

c.       I had to be able to eat the food in my car.

to be continued…..

2 Comments leave one →
  1. August 26, 2011 5:24 pm

    I want more!! You can’t leave us hanging like this! Details, please for a-c.


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