At one month I had lost nine kilograms (20 lbs). At two and a half months so far, I have taken off another four kg (9 lbs), though I have been another kilogram lower for a day or two. But yes, I've been stuck at the lucky -13 kg mark for a few weeks now.
The main reason I am not making much progress is that both of my kids are on vacation. They require a lot of attention, and what feels like constant feeding. I am trying to avoid taking them to restaurants, and it is very hard for me to cook without eating, because I'm a fairly good cook. I try to keep my portions down, but going back for seconds is an old habit that is fighting like hell to not go gently into that dark night.
No. Not Batman. He's the Dark Knight. Get it together, fanboy.
Sorry about that. Yesterday Horyon told me that she is being patient with me and my short temper, and it made me realize that I have not been the most pleasant of company to be around. My body is sure that this is a disaster. After all, historically if a person were loosing weight like this, it would signify a food shortage, or disease, or perhaps some sort of war. In those circumstances, it doesn't pay to be nice, so my brain is going into full-on self-preservation mode. Sometimes it takes a very deliberate act of will to counter this tendency, and if I have been using my will power all day to not snarf cookies or rice or whatever, I just don't have much will power left.
I am also just having trouble motivating myself to spend 90 minutes in the kitchen, sweating in this heat, making juice that doesn't really taste that good, and cleaning a stupid juice machine that has lots of little holes and crevasses in which vegetable matter hides, hoping that it will escape the fate of being taken out with the food garbage. And with the kids around all the time, it's difficult to find time to shop. And it's hot enough that just going shopping is justification for a shower when you get home. And being hungry sucks. And and and...
The benefits are showing. Last week I ran out of blood pressure medicine, so on Friday I went to my doctor's clinic. She was on vacation. Just a three day weekend, but my Monday was busy, so I couldn't make it in until Tuesday. She was impressed that my blood pressure was okay after five days with no medication, and cut my prescription in half. Which means I'm back to cutting pills in half again. The doctor visit and medicine cost me about $15 for two months, plus time and hassle. Leaving that behind will not be a huge quality difference in my life, but I'm looking forward to it, especially after hearing so many people tell me that hypertension is something you just treat by taking medicine every day for the rest of your life.
I'm looking thinner. (No, not another Stephen King review, sorry). The other day I got out my barber scissors and cut off about half a pound of facial hair. I was starting to resemble an Ewok with a perm, and it was time to do something about it. When I finished I had to stop and look at myself in the mirror. I'm not much of a mirror person, but my reflection really caught my eye this time.
|Phone in one hand, mosquito bat in the other. Ready for all 1:00 a.m. eventualities.|
The next thing I notice is that my XL t-shirt hangs loose. All of them do. How does a L fit? I don't know. I haven't had a large size t-shirt in my wardrobe for many a year. I don't remember making the change, and am not sure that my shoulders can deal with a smaller size, but I may be finding out soon.
Seriously though, what I noticed was my face. The mirror selfie just doesn't capture the essence of what I see in the mirror. What I see is a guy whose face is not so round and pudgy. I see a few angles that weren't there before. I'm starting to see my Dad, which is not a bad thing at all. And by the way, how much do mirror selfies suck? The best thing I can say about this photo is that you can't tell that I'm not wearing pants.
Speaking of pants, I need to order new clothes for the fall. My waist has gone from a 43 or 44 down to about 40 inches. My 42 inch pants will slide right off with no belt and the wiggle that got me through college. I'm just reluctant to order something in 40 inches because I am confident that this is not the end of my journey. I'm not sure where it ends, other than the inevitable end that we all come to.
But it is a tough journey, like every other worthwhile goal I've ever striven for: the struggle to marry Horyon, moving to America, getting my master's degree, raising kids, being a teacher. They all take time and effort.
My spiritual journey is also a long, difficult one, but substantially different. I feel like weight and health have fairly stable goals: realistically, you can only dedicate so much time each day to your health, and once you reach the point of diminishing returns, there's no point in trying to eke out another 15 minutes to add to your three hours of daily exercising. Once you have a healthy diet going, it's about maintaining, not reverting to eating an entire fried chicken by yourself.
But growing spiritually is different. I'm not sure if there is an end goal this side of dying.
And that will be the focus of my next post.