Tuesday, June 12, 2007
In a previous post, I had questioned whether or not I had reached a point where I was willing to take action against my recent swelling...er...weight gain. The answer is apparently no. My urge to exercise is a classic case of "the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak". I get myself all hyped up to start walking or stair climbing or something or anything...and then I rethink those thoughts. And if I do it long enough, why by golly, night time has fallen and who ever heard of exercising in the dark anyway? Experts will tell you that almost everything in life is actually 90% mental and only 10% physical. Bull hockey. Mentally, I've exercised myself down to an incredibly toned size 6. Physically, not so much. Maybe weight loss is like quitting smoking. One day, you just get the urge and you DO IT. That'd be sweet. I still dream I'm smoking a cigarette every now and again. Wouldn't it be cool if I only dreamt I'd eaten that Snickers bar before bedtime??
Monday, June 11, 2007
Okay, well I stopped smoking 16 weeks and 6 days ago (but who's counting, right?). What happens now? Will this almost uncontrollable urge to eat everything in sight stop soon? Will I continue to grow larger and larger and larger until one day I find the only thing that will fit me is a queen size bedsheet? I went clothes shopping the other day, mainly because I was down to one pair of pants that I could zip. I was shocked to discover that my clothes weren't suffering from an unexplained laundry mishap. They hadn't shrunk. I had grown. A lot. A whole lot. In my mind, I'm not fat. In my mirror, well let's not go there. Not only are my clothes not mysteriously altered to a smaller size as per my previous belief, but apparantly my mirror isn't reflecting an inaccurate vision due to some glazing error. I'm just fat. When did this happen? When did I go from "fluffy" to "fat"? And is this condition permanent? And have I reached the fat boiling point that makes me actually take action to change this? Tune in tomorrow...