303-That’s the number I saw on my scale this morning. It’s down 4 from the 307 that I saw about a week and a half ago. I felt good when I saw that this morning. I really did. It felt like the beginning of a long road trip when you reach your first created milestone. You know there are an impossible number of miles to go before you reach the destination but for the first time the destination seems possible to be reached.
My wakeup call happened last summer after my brother’s wedding. In general, I am a pretty big guy. I’ve got broad shoulders and am about 6 feet tall. I didn’t realize that it was more than my frame that had made the moniker “big guy” so appropriate. The wedding pictures came back and honestly, I was instantly embarrassed and ashamed. I made excuses for the guy in the pictures. I rationalized it to myself. I tried my best to make sense of what I was seeing. No matter the amount of mental gymnastics I engaged in, there was only one true conclusion.
I was overweight and I looked like shit. That was my reality now. And this reality is forever cemented into the pages of pictures celebrating one of the greatest days in my brother’s and sister-in-law’s lives. I will always grimace when I see them. I don’t know if I will always feel as embarrassed as I did when first looking but I can’t imagine that I will feel anything but negative about the me in those pictures.
That day happened sometime near the end of last August. I immediately began to make grand proclamations. I have a coworker who is super fit and healthy and engaged in marathon running and complains about struggling to keep weight on his wiry frame. He is at times supportive and infuriating. I told him I would lose 50 pounds by Christmas. I did not lose 50 pounds by Christmas. I saw 311 and 317 on scales. Even having acknowledged my downward spiral, I felt as if I was just watching myself go lower and there was nothing I was willing to do to change it.
Those damned wedding pictures were fastened to the wall at home by my mom. They were in the living room as well. Drinking beers and eating shit, the swollen puff of a man I had become just stared. Christmas came and went. And then, I really started trying. For a day. Maybe two. I threw away way more salad greens that I ate. And again, nothing was changing.
I have been this big before – in high school. I hated myself then. Over a couple of years of movement and better eating I lost over 100 pounds. I was so proud of myself – of what I had done. But life changes. Office jobs, stress, alcohol, cigarettes, and excuses. And here I am again, where I was – and where I never ever wanted to be. I love food and food culture. That’s not the reason I am fat. Absolutely not. The reason I am fat is because I made the choice to eat the shitty thing or drink too much or not go for a walk. It’s on me. Not food. Leave food alone.
303. It started sticking a couple of weeks ago. The healthier eating and walking. My calves and the tops of my feet feel like burning mud on my afternoon walks – but they used to feel like burning bricks.
I wanted to write a food blog about eating healthy, cooking healthy, DIY fermenting and canning, and beer brewing. I wanted to tell everyone the truth. I wanted help. That’s why I started writing a blog again. I wanted your help. I can’t do this alone.
So, now it’s out there. No pictures. Just truth. I am going to be honest with you on here. I am going to update my health weekly. I have to do this. I think this is what I need to finally get it done. (As I am writing this- my palms are sweaty and I am anxious just thinking about posting this publically. I’m a little embarrassed too. And scared.)
Hi. My name is Andrew. I’m fat. I’m working on it.