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My wife has finally noticed that I’ve lost weight. Maybe the extra push from the purge has helped, but she remarked on how skinny I am now. And it’s not like I haven’t been parading around in front of her naked at every opportunity for the last few months - that’s why I got thrown out of Waitrose (and I was on a bus all along). I guess she just tries to avert her eyes and think of something else, like the life she could have been leading if she hadn’t made just one stupid decision.
I am starting to look pretty good, if technically overweight and getting to the point where the effects of nature’s botox (fat) are diminishing and my wrinkles are showing a bit more. There’s still enough chub to keep me from full on Mother Theresa.
But 146 days into the year, still booze and chocolate free, I’m now somewhere around 85kg (14.5kg down) which was my second target. I’d have been very happy to get to and maintain 87kg, but thought it would be great to get to 85, with a hope that I might actually get back to 83, which I’d kept at fairly successfully in the mid to long term last time I lost weight.
I don’t feel I am putting too much effort into it all, beyond those major abstinences and doing slightly longer walks. I’d even taken a bit of a holiday from over zealous calorie counting (whilst still watching what I was eating), but still the weight is gradually declining. So we’ll see where we end up and if I can find a way to stop the switch being flicked and Me2 taking back control of my appetites. I feel strangely confident that something has changed for good this time though and for me at least my weight is very much in sync with my mental state, how I want to be perceived and how I perceive myself. I always thought that loving food was my problem, but when you’re not stuffing your face you actually can enjoy food properly (and you do so, because you’re not full up and you want to savour what you’ve got). Did I enjoy hoovering up giant chocolate buttons and sometimes being surprised that there were none left in a packet that I didn’t even remember opening?
Bu also changing your appearance has an impact on who other people view you too and sometimes it is easier to try and meld into the background and not be a threat to the pecking order. Not drinking, for example can be seen as some kind of criticism of or threat to the rest of the group’s alcohol intake. Being better looking can be a threat to the alpha member of your group who sees themselves as the good looking one.
So you have to also accept a change in your social group if you change your shape. Mine is now mainly my family and luckily no one really cares one way of the other what I look like. And I don’t either, though am enjoying my slightly increased confidence. I am doing this to try and stay alive a little bit longer than I might have.
I am just saying there’s a lot to overcome psychologically and that’s not something that most diets really think about. I’m getting old enough to not give a fuck and realise that ultimately I am in control of what I do and have to take responsibility for that myself. And aside from these vague targets I haven’t set a goal or got perturbed if I haven’t lost weight for a couple of weeks. It’s a long term life change rather than an attempt to fit into a bikini for me (though I do have a nice bikini that I have my eye on).
And maybe, just maybe, that’s why this might be the one that bucks the trend and you won’t see me weighing in at over 90kg again.
Another potential candidate for the food poisoning came to light tonight when I thought I might have toast for my dinner, opened the bread bin and saw the loaf in there had a nice film of wispy mould on top of it. I had had a slice of toast about two hours before I started feeling ill on Friday. Had I just not noticed that the loaf was old (I am not eating much bread) and ingested some mould? It might have cured all known diseases or killed me or just made me sick. But that might make sense. The dog’s illness, which is still on going, might just be a coincidence.
I regret nothing.
