There's only one thing that sucks more than being overweight. Being overweight again.
After battling with a horrible metabolism and a love for junk food my entire life, allowing it to affect both my high school years and the forefront of my college days, I decided it was time for me to shave off the pounds. The only problem was that I needed a huge pair of shears to get this weight off. At my maximum capacity, I weight right around 380 pounds and wore something close to a size 52-54 pant. Yeah, scary huh? I thought so too when I looked in the mirror one day.
First, the transformation started with a change in eating habits. Gone were the Big Macs and Domino's Pizza of the past, and in came plain, homemade chicken sandwiches and vegetables out the yang. That shift along worked off around 30 or so pounds in a little under three months. Then, things got serious: I was determined. I had tasted success and wanted to put the pedal to the metal. Out went the sedentary lifestyle I had grown accustomed to, and in came working out 3-4 days a week with a mix of cardio and light weight training.
Blah, blah, blah, I don't care what anybody else tells you about it not being all that bad. It sucks. Sucks something fierce, especially when everybody else around you can devour cheeseburgers, slices of pizza, and gallons of beer (bear in mind this was in college) -- and not be fazed by it. But I stuck with it hardcore for well over a year. After it was all said and done, I was nimbly tipping the scale at a splendid 185-195 pounds. Fan-bloody-tastic!
Then, it slowly came back on. Inching -- well, inch-by-inch -- back onto my waist, my thighs, and my rear. A combination of slacking off on the workouts, stress from job situations, and a mild case of depressive indulgence filled my Indiana-laden body. Over three years, somewhere in the neighborhood of 75 or so pounds came back. Okay, 80 pounds. Fine, when I weighed before I wrapped this message, I was at ... . It's terrible, and I realized it. My weight fluctuated at times over that three-year course, sparked by mild inspirations similar to the big dramatic shift that I once encountered. Situations, however, have a way of not working out as you grow older.
Here, now, I sit. Feeling my chubbier face and shaking my head while composing this message. Some people wish for financial freedom, while others for good health. My wish, if I could have any single thing granted, would be to rewind the past three years and do every ... single ... thing differently. And, of course, for financial freedom and good health. But we're not talking to the Genie from Aladdin, now are we?
Well, damnit, I'm going to grant my own wish. The details shall follow in the next posting.
