Weight, excess weight, is like an albatross in my life, weighing me down and trapping me in the middle of an unsympathetic ocean. It is an anchor, and not an attractive one. If I sound glum about it, it’s because I am. Thankfully, I am generally not the kind of person that lets the suckiness (suckyness?) of one area of life ruin the other areas of life.
Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean it lacks an impact. Obesity dampens everything to some degree, even the great parts of life. Example: I’ve got two fantastic kids and a fantastic wife that I ADORE (ok, I’m addicted to them) but I feel held back by my weight.
I am an expert in weight loss, like most people who are obese. We have lost whole the equivalent of a person, at times. I know I have. Perhaps two.
I am not looking for advice. I have heard enough advice, that if each bit of it were a cup of water, I might have enough to fill my swimming pool. Swim in advice, go on, why don’t you?
One can know enough about weight loss to be an expert at it and still fail at succeeding. We all know this, those of us that bother to try.
We can even “know” all the more positive ways to approach this, like not making it about the number but making it about health. Or about being fit. Or about portion control, rather than calories. Or about believing in yourself, talking positive to yourself. All that stuff. It’s all valid, all good, all worthwhile, all lovely bits of advice to get.
It’s not always enough. One can still fail.
I haven’t given up, though.
I have a health issue that I’m not going to go into here, but it has to do with pain, and any amount of exercise essentially results in more severe pain. I have gotten surgeries and will get more.
This means, for me, my weight loss is about food choices. No part of me is happy to miss out on exercise. I have always loved exercise. Loved it. Ate too much and undid my hard work, yes, but I loved it. I have never been lazy about exercising as an adult. Unfortunately it was in the middle of a month of serious working out that my health problem hit me like a wall of bricks, nearly two years ago, and I haven’t recovered since.
Despite that, I have lost and kept off 30 pounds in these 2 years. I actually lost 50, then gained 20 back from October 1st until recently. Sound familiar?
That brings me to why I’m writing this post that’s a bit too vulnerable for my taste. Saw the doctor today and he basically said to lose as much weight as I can in the next six months and then come back, and he will see what he can do. The weight gets in the way of healing my health issue. Losing more will make it easier for him to be more successful in helping me.
So I want to recommit. A little public to include a blog post, and I might regret this 10 seconds after I publish the post, but I am going to do it anyway for the simple reason of needing support. Support, not advice. Encouraging words, not advice. Advice is well-intentioned, but it’s not what I need.
I’ll end this post with a quote, a snippet from a song by Ok Go:
Just when you think that you’re in control,
just when you think that you’ve got a hold,
just when you get on a roll,
here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again.
Oh, here it goes again.
I should have known,
should have known,
should have known again,
but here it goes again.
Oh, here it goes again.