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This morning when I did my official first-Saturday-of-the-month weigh in, I wanted the number to be lower. With all my heart and soul I wanted it to be lower. I might even admit that I HOPED it would be lower. But it wouldn’t be honest to say that I expected it to be lower, or felt it SHOULD be lower. And it wasn’t. It was higher. A LOT higher than last month. And because I did hope but didn’t expect a different number, I was filled with anxiety, anger and depression. It didn’t seem fair. Okay, sure, I’ve been overeating. But somehow it didn’t seem fair! After my friend Danielle threw me a lifeline and talked me down off the ledge, I thought about what was going on in my head when I was approaching the scale this morning. And I realized that in my heart of hearts, I wanted the scale to reflect back to me all of the hard work I’ve done in the past month, not only with food and exercise, but with school, my two jobs, my relationship with Devin, my birthday, etc. etc. I had fallen into that trap where suddenly the data reading from a piece of metal and electronics was where I was seeking personal affirmation. I wanted that scale to give me an attaboy for all of the effort that I put into just being the best person I could be for the past thirty days. But, for better or worse, that machinery is nothing but a brainless recording device which reflects on a little screen the electronic impulses generated when a weight-bearing load is placed upon it. So when the reading changes, that means its receiving different information. Nothing more, nothing less. As a result, I realize that what I really need is not to beat myself up or feel like a failure, but rather to take a moment to be self-congratulatory. Rather than looking for external validation of my good efforts, I can seek inside myself the understanding that I’m doing some extraordinary things with my life, and have the right to feel proud and deserving of the success I’ve had. Anyway, after running my two Saturday morning meetings, I decided to be spontaneous and stop by Draegers on my way home. It’s the kind of place where you can only shop if you’re feeling flush because the prices are a little breathtaking. But the store is beautifully laid out and the produce and deli sections are truly amazing. Today, the first thing I spotted on my way in, was a little cart with heirloom tomatoes on it. And looking at those luscious, beautiful, enticing, entrancing tomatoes I realized that everything is going to be okay. I STILL love fresh veggies and fruit. I STILL love to exercise and be healthy. I STILL have the power and the desire to be a successful weight maintainer. I picked up some organic apples, some tomatoes, a nice salad from the bar, some sushi and a LOT of self-confidence. Well worth the $20. So thanks to Danielle, and a couple of tomatoes, I think I’ll live.

'Tis NOT the Season

According to the calendar on my wall at work, yesterday was November 2nd. As a result, I was really taken aback when two co-workers stopped by my desk and asked me join in on the fun in the conference room: cookies, baked goods, cakes and muffins. (It was a total surprise must have deleted the e-mail!) Because this wasn’t just any old office party. It wasn’t even a Halloween party. No, on the 2nd There was even a raffle and door prizes. The table was piled high with goodies, and nary a glass of water, piece of fruit, or anything remotely healthy was on offer. day of November, my coworkers staged a “welcome to the holidays” buffet table and decorated the room with Santa, Rudolph, tinsel and (yes) a Christmas tree. In other words we had a Christmas party –the first of the season—weeks before we even got around to Thanksgiving. And later on in the day, one of my coworkers stopped at every single desk in the unit to leave them with a massive “menu” four our Holiday Luncheon (at Buca di Beppo). All we need to do is pony up $30 each and we can drown in all the fat, sugar and butter we can stand. To be fair, the people organizing all of this in our office are the event planners, whose usual task is to run meetings in rural parts of the state and prepare all the logistics, advertising, etc. I’m sure to them, planning for something “fun” and “seasonal” was a nice break from all of the public policy hearings they have to do. But the BdB prix fix meal and the “coming soon!” cubicle decorating party are really over the top, if you ask me. Anyway, this whole thing has left me feeling depressed. Well-meaning friends have told me that sometimes I come across as a real party pooper (for instance, yesterday I simply refused to attend). And for Halloween, I circulated a note to all of my colleagues that in lieu of candy, I would leave a donation box for www.heifer.org on my desk and they could toss their pennies in there. Its just that willpower is not my forte, and this EEFWS (early extravagant-food warning system) only set my heart to racing. Sure, I may have been successfully maintaining my healthy weight through four holiday seasons now. I know the tricks. I know what does (and doesn’t work). I have strategies. But do I really have to start putting them into practice so damn soon? Doesn’t it seem a little tiring to already be thinking up alternative foods to bring to work and prepare to be assertive at company meals that you need something healthy? Am I salmon swimming upstream who’s only entered the mouth of the river and has many dangerous shoals, waterfalls and snares awaiting him ahead? Am I resigned to being a stick in the mud, a lone voice in the wilderness, a holiday festival pariah? Since my goal is to weigh not one ounce more in January than I do today, am I being unrealistic? It sure doesn’t seem very social to declare my office a Santa-Free-Zone. I swear, sometimes the holidays can seem so Ho Ho Ho … peless!

Traffic Report

This week I've been toying with a metaphor. It seems to me that there are a few strong parallels between weight management and riding a bicycle. This came to me as I was biking to work on Monday and was feeling a little annoyed with the fact that it takes me so long to traverse the one mile between my house and my office. What happens during my commute is that, due to heavy morning traffic, there are many intersections where I am forced to stop and wait for a green light, or to wait my turn at a stop sign. So there I am, zipping merrily along one moment and then coming to a complete stop the next. Where the metaphor comes in to play is this: There are so many reasons, both good and bad, that I have to stop. If I'm prepared, stopping can be simple and gentle. If not, it can be a rude bump. But it's the getting started again that is the real kicker. When I'm forced to stop on my bike, I have to apply the brake, put my foot on the ground and balance myself so I don't fall. When its my turn to go, I have to jump on, give a push and start pedalling. The effort it takes to get this start is actually a great deal more than it takes to just coast along. So the more I stop, the more energy I spend getting re-started. No wonder some mornings that one-mile trip can take almost as long as walking! Another insight is that when its time to get going, I'm in real trouble if I've left the bike in its highest gear. When I jump on the pedal and start to push, nothing happens! I'm in danger of falling over and/or hurting myself by having to press so hard. In fact a lot of times I have to stand up and apply my full weight. So when I'm prepared for a stop and see it coming, I immediately do two things: (1) switch into a much lower gear and (2) slow way down – enough to just barely stay upright while prolonging the time it takes me to reach the intersection. If all goes well, the light may turn green in time and I can just switch back into a higher gear and keep going. Even if I am required to touch down, when I restart the bike in a lower gear, its much easier to get momentum going, even though I pedal a little faster and move a little slower. I don't always make the right choice and I'm not always fully prepared for every intersection. Sometimes my thoughts wander, sometimes I'm distracted visually or aurally. And lots and lots and lots of other people on their bikes whiz past me every day. I can't take my bike for granted, either. The other day a bolt fell off and suddenly I was slowed down by the tire rubbing against the frame. Another time I was careless and ran over a screw and got a flat. In both cases, I needed tools to get me back on track. Anyway, you see where I'm going with this! The parallels with healthy eating and exercise are quite amazing. It takes time to learn the process of changing our weight, it requires a lot of strategies and practice, we don't always get where we think we're going, and sometimes we come to a complete stop, despite all of our best intentions. At the moment on my weight journey, I'm in the lowest possible gear. I'm hoping that I don't have to halt, and instead when the coast is clear, I can start pedalling merrily towards the holiday season.

Bottoms Down

Last week towards the end of the dinner party I was at, my seat mate turned to me and asked “So why don’t you drink? Do you not drink at ALL?” (I had known at this gourmet party that many different forms and varieties of alcohol would be flowing, so early on I’d mentioned to the host that I wouldn’t be having any, so as to preclude being asked repeatedly.) Unfortunately, the correct response on my part (“Oh, its no big deal” or “Its just a personal thing” or “I’m just not into it”) failed to materialize. Instead I heard myself saying “Well my Dad was an alcoholic so I prefer to stay away from the stuff.” She then asked if I had EVER had a drink, and I replied that I had. “So, she said, then you don’t have a drinking problem.” Its funny, for a guy in PR and marketing, whose specialty is in communications, you’d think I’d know what to say and how to react to this kind of thing. Because, again, the correct response (e.g. “Well there you have it” or “Thanks” or “I see … so how bout those Giants?”) once again eluded me. Instead I dug myself a whole and said “Well, studies show that male children of male alcoholics have the tendency to repeat the pattern and I’d like to break that. My brothers have had problems and I figure its just best not to start.” “But you don’t know. You can’t be sure. You’re not an addict.” Sigh. I eventually extricated myself from the situation. Ironically, I attribute her rude inquisitiveness to the two martinis and four glass of wine she’d had. Lowered inhibitions and all that. And perhaps the whole conversation wasn’t about ME. It might have just been her way to prove to herself that she was okay. Still, I keep thinking about how easy it is for us to pronounce judgement on other people, and pigeon-hole them. Oh, Jonathan. He’s the teetotaler that thinks he’s a drunk. Fortunately, the topic never turned to weight control or dieting during the course of the otherwise very pleasant evening. I do try to avoid that subject as a kind of no-winner in most social occasions. And I can only imagine what would have been said. “Oh you? You don’t have a problem. What do you care about weight loss?” etc. etc. Anyway, I’ve been mulling over that incident this week and it really bugs me. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a reasonable strategy to make decisions about one’s own life which one feels will lead to good health and positive mental outcomes without the judgement of others. Its like when I hear people criticize those who jog (or especially, those that jog on hard city streets, like me). “Its so bad for you.” “It’ll ruin your knees.” “I heard a runner got hit by a car last week.” All I can say is, I’m patting myself for not talking with my interlocutor about what REALLY stops me from drinking alcohol. Its not addiction, or moral judgement or being disciplined Its about wasted calories.

Fools Rush In

One thing I loved about my undergraduate education at the College of William & Mary was that it was very rigorous, requiring a broad range of study, and yet I never had to take a single unit of science. Thank god -- its my worst subject. As a result, I know zero about human anatomy, biology, physiology, or the atomic weight of naugahyde. So really, I don't have any business commenting on this new research about extending life by greatly reducing calories. But what the heck. There have been a lot of articles popping up about this late-breaking news, but this quote really struck me: "If you' ve ever wondered what it would be like to live on an extremely calorie-restricted diet, you've got to read the fascinating cover story in this week's New York magazine. The author lived on a diet of about 1,800 calories for 63 days and lived to write about it." Now, I don't know about you, but 1,800 calories seems to be about my exact maintenance range (I'm 5'6" if that matters). Again, I'm no scientist, but by my ballpark estimates, I generally shoot for the range of 1500 - 2000 per day. If I go higher at all than that I'm gaining weight. Perhaps its different for younger, more active people than me? Or maybe I'm just the world's worst calorie counter? I mean, I've been at this for about four years and I'm not really one to weigh and measure rigorously. I generally go by the nutrition facts label and "eyeball" portion sizes. I don't think I've used my kitchen scale over the past year to measure anything other than a heavy letter for a postage estimate. Anyway, I dug around --trying to focus on government data only-- and it turns out that the National Institutes of Health says 1,600 - 2,200 for "some older adults and most men." So what's all this crap about "... and lived to write about it" ?? Sheesh. In my completely uninformed and totally biased opinion, agribusiness and food purveyors have been drowning us first-worlders in excess food for at least the last 30 years, building up higher and higher expectation levels for what we "should" eat. I know that when I first analyzed my highest-weight daily caloric intake in 2001, it was about 3,600 a day! Up until that point, I hadn't been measuring my food/eating at all. I just assumed I was eating "normally." So sure, after years of chowing down on supersized foods, gigantic meat portions, and container after container of refined-carb products, it came as a shock to me that this was too much food. Honestly, until that point, I had no idea how I got to be over 200 pounds. Talk about denial. In my own defense, I can only say that I was soaking up the messages on TV, in stores and restaurants, on billboards, in the paper, etc. Everywhere we turn in our society, food is available for purchase at an instant, and in cheap, massive quantities. I simply think that we Americans don't realize that this is way out of the norm, even when compared to our compatriots in EuropeAsia. Since I've studied and worked overseas, it didn't completely escape me that in other places I visited, there was at least a LITTLE less availability of food. In the past I chalked that up to the fact that in America things were just more "convenience oriented." and Yeah. Right. So anyway, I'm here to tell you that *GASP* I'm living on 1,800 calories a day and no, I didn't have to drag myself across the floor in limp exhaustion to reach the keyboard and type this. In fact, I'm feeling kinda full right now. After all, I just had a HUGE snack. Three Wasa crackers and a liter of water. Try it, you'll see.

Fun, fun, fun?

Losing and achieving a healthy weight can, at least in my opinion, be an occasionally fun and rewarding process. In fact, in my own experience, the less enjoyment I afforded myself in an attempt to lose weight, the less long-term success I had. That’s one of the reasons I attend meetings, talk to friends and write this blog. I like to stay in touch with the lighter side of the whole thing. But even while celebrating the enjoyable parts of weight management, I never lose sight of the fact that its hard. Being a healthy weight maintainer means making a lot of decisions, planning ahead, occasionally feeling conflicted, and work, work, work. Not just shopping and chopping, but also asserting oneself, continually being alert to new strategies or pitfalls, and sometimes going out of the way to find healthy fare even when it adds time, effort and expense. As a result, for me its necessary to find the humor, the inspiration, the motivation and the support wherever I can. I need those resources in order to maintain my progress, because all work and no play makes Jack an overweight boy! Tonight as I was driving to my part-time job after work, I was reflecting on the years I spent looking for work after having been laid off. No matter how productive and well-employed I feel today, when I was out of work, I often felt discouraged, depressed, disappointed and devoid of any talent. It took, in fact, a hell of a lot of work, to find work! Probably the worst piece of advice I got during that two-year period was something that I (sadly) actually paid for. Namely, my cheerful little employment counselor team told me that I should look on being laid off as “the opportunity of a lifetime.” Being out of work didn’t mean I was a failure, it meant I had “the chance to reinvent myself to be the person I always wanted to be.” Although sweet-sounding, those words actually came to haunt me. Because, you see, being out of work and looking for a new job is painful, difficult, exasperating and complex. It requires diligence, patience, constant effort and amazing resourcefulness. And all of this has to happen while you are out of money, and getting rejection after rejection. The idea that everything was rosy and wonderful was just wrong. It was especially awful because it made me feel bad for feeling bad! So yeah, I like to joke around about the weight loss process. I often look for humor in crazy situations, and am constantly poking fun at myself for my little foibles (like setting a timer for when I can eat next, slicing a single piece of bread in two to save calories, etc.). Its good to laugh and its crucial to have fun. But never, ever, make the mistake of thinking that I’m saying its easy. Or simple. Or worry-free. There are no magic cures, secret pills or painless strategies. At many places in the journey it takes everything you’ve got just to put one foot in front of the other. There simply is no way of getting around the fact that being thin and healthy is a full-time job. Just don’t forget to whistle while you work (it keeps you from eating!).

Nuts about Vegetables

This evening, as I was elbow deep in half chopped vegetables, I did briefly have the thought that I might actually be nuts. I stopped by my favorite Chinese hole-in-the-wall supermarket this afternoon and dropped $50 on a slew of amazing vegetables. I figured I could assemble some pre-mixed bags of fresh produce so that I would be able to just reach in the fridge or freezer and be ready to cook and eat. But when I got home and saw the proceeds I began to realize I had at least an hour of dicing and slicing ahead of me. Piles of mushrooms, stacks of legumes, bags of onions, leeks, chives … it was all a bit much. Still, with a sigh of resignation, I scrubbed out the sink, rinsed all of my goods and then went to work. Since I don’t have any really huge containers, what I do is fill the large kitchen basin with everything I’m cutting up, mixing along the way. At the end I grab my freezer bags and dollop approximately equal portions in each. If there’s a more efficient way to do it, I haven’t figured it out. In the event, it took me almost two hours to complete the preparations. Fortunately I got 15 full bags out of it, and filled the freezer and fridge compartments to the top. I’m pooped and my hands are chapped and I’m wondering what kind of crazy fool would go through such a hassle when he could just as easily go to the supermarket and buy all this stuff pre-made. But I bet that tomorrow morning when I’m making my veggie omellette, I’ll be glad I did.