Trying To Be Not-Fat
"Have you ever been struck by lightning? It hurts."
Saturday is weigh-in day. I mean, I weigh myself every morning anyway, but Saturday is the one that counts. Those Monday to Friday moments on the scales are my way of giving myself a little pat on the back and a rub of the shoulders. "Go get 'em, champ."
The past three Saturdays have been a bitch, mainly because I seemed to have hit a plateau as far as the regime I've been following was concerned. It fluctuated a pound or two, but by and large, I've been stuck on 208lbs since the beginning of the month. How it works is you come back from your Monday workout, step onto the scales, and you're around 211. Not bad. You eat what you like on Saturdays, stay as far as possible from the gym on Sundays. But you can drop 3lbs in two days, leaving you a further three to play with. By Wednesday, you're a healthy 208. But then something happens. Maybe it's a motivation thing, but on Thursday, you step onto the scales and you're some bullshit weight like 207.7. Friday, you're 207.9. You half-arse it on Saturday because you always half-arse it on Saturday, and by the time you hit the scales, you know you're going to be somewhere in the late 207s, and you are.
Three weeks of that left me in a state approaching despair. Despite Jennifer's insistence that I was disappearing, not being able to see the weight coming off both in the mirror and on the scales stole a large amount of my motivation. There were still awesome moments like doing up my jeans or suddenly realising that I could wear a certain t-shirt, but the momentum I had for the first couple of months of my attempt to lose however many pounds it takes was falling away.
This week, I cranked my exercise regime up a rather large notch and discovered that the weight lost and the hours put in at the gym have left me considerably fitter than I'd realised. It's not easy running for half an hour instead of hiking with the occasional bit of jogging, and it's certainly not easy keeping the exercise bike going for the same amount of time on a setting one-and-a-half times more difficult than the one I started with. But then back in March, those original settings used to leave me wanting to crawl away and die.
Forgive me for sounding like a twat for a moment, but if you don't feel the exercise you're doing, it probably isn't doing a lot for you.
I was an inspiring 205lbs today. 205 is the official "I've lost twenty pounds, motherfuckers!" weight, and I fully expect to maintain that until Saturday, even if I slack off until then (which is possible). For the record, that'll be twenty pounds, just over two inches off my waist, and four notches on my belt.
Honestly, you don't realise how fat you are until you start trying to be not-fat.
Saturday is weigh-in day. I mean, I weigh myself every morning anyway, but Saturday is the one that counts. Those Monday to Friday moments on the scales are my way of giving myself a little pat on the back and a rub of the shoulders. "Go get 'em, champ."
The past three Saturdays have been a bitch, mainly because I seemed to have hit a plateau as far as the regime I've been following was concerned. It fluctuated a pound or two, but by and large, I've been stuck on 208lbs since the beginning of the month. How it works is you come back from your Monday workout, step onto the scales, and you're around 211. Not bad. You eat what you like on Saturdays, stay as far as possible from the gym on Sundays. But you can drop 3lbs in two days, leaving you a further three to play with. By Wednesday, you're a healthy 208. But then something happens. Maybe it's a motivation thing, but on Thursday, you step onto the scales and you're some bullshit weight like 207.7. Friday, you're 207.9. You half-arse it on Saturday because you always half-arse it on Saturday, and by the time you hit the scales, you know you're going to be somewhere in the late 207s, and you are.
Three weeks of that left me in a state approaching despair. Despite Jennifer's insistence that I was disappearing, not being able to see the weight coming off both in the mirror and on the scales stole a large amount of my motivation. There were still awesome moments like doing up my jeans or suddenly realising that I could wear a certain t-shirt, but the momentum I had for the first couple of months of my attempt to lose however many pounds it takes was falling away.
This week, I cranked my exercise regime up a rather large notch and discovered that the weight lost and the hours put in at the gym have left me considerably fitter than I'd realised. It's not easy running for half an hour instead of hiking with the occasional bit of jogging, and it's certainly not easy keeping the exercise bike going for the same amount of time on a setting one-and-a-half times more difficult than the one I started with. But then back in March, those original settings used to leave me wanting to crawl away and die.
Forgive me for sounding like a twat for a moment, but if you don't feel the exercise you're doing, it probably isn't doing a lot for you.
I was an inspiring 205lbs today. 205 is the official "I've lost twenty pounds, motherfuckers!" weight, and I fully expect to maintain that until Saturday, even if I slack off until then (which is possible). For the record, that'll be twenty pounds, just over two inches off my waist, and four notches on my belt.
Honestly, you don't realise how fat you are until you start trying to be not-fat.
posted by Michael at 11:26 AM
5 Comments:
he's my disappearing hubby!
seriously.
although he tells me this as i'm eating, as i'm shoveling fatty food in my face. i wish i had even half the will-power and motivation as you.
in case i didn't tell you today...i'm so proud of you.
Good job! I absolutely agree that if it doesn't burn, you're not working hard enough.
Of course, if it doesn't buzz, you're not drinking hard enough.
There is a symmetry in life . . .
Michael - great job - inspiring story. I know exactly how difficult it is to do what you're doing.
Ewwww! Plateau Syndrome, an evil construction designed to discourage you out of your fitness routine. Keep plugging away, chap! Turning it up a notch was smart! Losing 20 pounds is incredible, but the last few will be the hardest. Bitches! Why do they make it that way? Carry on.
It's admirable what you're doing, Mikhail, especially for someone who has never paid much attention to health.... but personally, in a psychological sense, I don't think weighing yourself every day is healthy. The kind of weight that fluctuates on a daily basis tends to be water rather than fat, anyway. Sticking to once a week gives a more realistic picture.
But yes, having been the slimmer sibling for many years until recently, I am jealous.
I wanna lose 20lbs!
Bastard.
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