Doug Losing Weight

I watch the Biggest Loser.  I kind of live what I hope to accomplish in advance by watching them…  did that make sense?  Everything I see them do is what I picture in my future.  And when they have breakthroughs about their self-worth I realize how much I’ve suffered in that regard too, feelings of being ashamed of what I am getting in the way of me living life with joy and faith…

And I cry.  Yep.  Right there in front of the laptop (I watch on Hulu) I just let the tears run down my face.  As they realize they are great it reaffirms it to my soul too.  I am great.  Sometimes I forget.

But the show has a downside.  They lose HUGE numbers every week.  So I get it in my head that I’m going to lose double digits every week.

So I get on the scale on Saturday and I’ve lost 4-5 more pounds.  I’m devastated.  So overall that’s 13 pounds in two weeks.  Not bad.  Actually kind of great.  But that’s not how my brain saw it.

So Sunday I find myself facing fish sandwiches, pizza, a bag of candy, and more pop.  I know I’m not supposed to, but for some reason I just can’t seem to shake this craving.  I mean CRAVE.  I eat it, I feel sick.  The sugar in my system is draining my energy, I feel sluggish and heavy.  And I don’t care.  I want more…

Now this was kind of triggered by a pretty major emotional hit, my wife and I certainly not agreeing on a particular topic that is at the foundation of our lives.  So I grab my camera, take off to find photos, and end up stopping at every convenience store I see for the next five hours…

I know, I’m not happy about it either.

Then yesterday, the machine in the break room is calling my name like some beautiful voluptuous siren.  Pop tarts yesterday morning, cookies in the afternoon, then pie at home for family night refreshments last night.

So I’m thinking all of this through on the way to work today.  Thinking about it while I work.  How can the wheels just come off like that?

Here’s my working theory.  Four pounds.  I had big expectations, I came up way short, I voted myself off of the ranch.  Subconsciously I think if I can’t be a hero why even try.  So my mind releases all of the brakes that hold me back from what I know I don’t want, and I run into the mine field of Wendy’s ready to do myself some seriously great tasting harm.

It didn’t taste that great.  I didn’t get much out of it in the way of enjoyment.  Just the punishment of it all.

Man that sounds warped.

But I’m still going to the gym.

Still replacing two meals a day with shakes.

Still taking supplements.

Still feeling much better everyday.

Gotta keep those expectations in check…