"you don't have to run the fastest, just faster than whoever you're with"
that was what jenn said to me this morning when we pulled into the parking lot at work. she then smirked. yes gang, she smirked. now, not being one to back down from a verbal sparring, i responded that my goal was to then be able to run faster than her. so there.
to be fair, this wasn't out of the blue, it was prompted by the fact that i established a new parking spot for us. at the exact other end of the parking lot from the door to the building, right in front of the security box. yeah, then again, if someone's about to attack me & my choices are a) hit the button for security or b) get in my car & run his punk ass over, hmmm, let me think on it, this is a tough one. . . .yeah, i'd pick b & totally turn the attacker into road tar-tar.
yes yes, i understand the skepticism, i've claimed motivation & dedication several time since starting this blog in may! here's the thing. i really think losing weight & keeping it off is the hardest thing i've ever done, or will ever do, in my entire life. i have friends who are smokers & say that losing weight is tougher than quitting smoking. i myself struggled with alcoholism, & this is worse than that. i know someone who used to be a heroin addict, & he claims that it was easier to give up heroin than to lose weight. this all goes back to the issue of with booze & dope you don't actually need those to live.
let me tell you, pre surgery josh lost 20 lbs on the liquid diet his surgeon prescribed. basically it was like slim fast, except instead of a sensible dinner he had another shake. or a yogurt smoothie. basically it was an all liquid diet. lots of water, nothing actually chewable. after seeing those results i have to admit that it's tempting to try the all liquid diet just to see how it would work for me. then again, now that he's post-op josh is on a diet that consists of one to two bites at a time. if i was only eating two bites of cottage cheese per meal you can bet your sweet biscuits that my ass would be rapidly shrinking.
which brings up the issue of will power. i stumbled across a blog called almost gastric bypass. the basic story is that this guy got ahold of a copy of the prescribed diet for gastric bypass patients & followed it exactly to the letter. that along with exercise & he's lost a massive amount of weight, about 130 lbs in a year. yeah, phenomenal. if you link the blog he has kind of fallen off the wagon, & regained some weight, but he's trying again to follow the diet & re-lose the 30 lbs & some more weight on top of that. now, i have to say, major kudos to this guy, that's a freakin hard thing to do, follow that diet on sheer will power alone. i know that gastric bypass patients can have very serious problems if they don't follow their doctor's post op orders, things all the way up to death can be the result. so at least they have that additional push to stick to their diet. this guy i just going on his own inner strength.
i've heard people say that fat people have no will power at all & they're fat because they're weak. i would like to say, oh contraire mon frere, fat people have lots of will power & inner strength. anyone who keeps trying to diet, again & again, even after they fail time & again, man, that's someone with fortitude, with moxie, with hutzpuh! now of course i don't want to remain chunky for the rest of my life, but it isn't all about will power, or lack there of. there's more psychology to all of it, at least in my case. it's almost like being fat is a lechorous cancer that has bored it's way into every part of my life & who i am. i feel like the fat is separate than me, kind of like a life sucking leech that's attached itself to me, with long tentacles that have wound themselves into my body & around every tendon, bone, ligament, weaving through my ribs & burrowing their way into my heart, climbing my spinal column vertebra by vertebra & slithering into the core of my brain, wrapping it in in thick dripping cords of fat. & it feels almost like there's nothing that can be done. literally like when a doctor finds that tumor, but finds it too late.
but then again. when i was in fifth grade, so i was probably ten years old, my grandpa was diagnosed with cancer. my mother came into my sister & i's room where we were tucked into our four poster full size bed. she knelt down & said in a very calm, low voice, that grandpa was sick, the doctor told him that he had cancer & didn't have very long to live. she then grasped our hands tight, one of mine & one of my sister's, & said that we should say an extra strong prayer that night and ask jesus to help grandpa. though she didn't articulate it, even at ten i knew that if his only chance was our prayers, it meant the cancer was bad. & it was bad. the oncologist basically told him to go home & die, that modern medicine had nothing to offer to a grown-up boy from rural nebraska, former farmer, father of eight, grandfather of seven.
he didn't go home & give-up. my grandpa lived another ten years past those six months the doctor gave him. he investigated homeopathic remedies, my grandmother took up massage therapy & every night worked on his feet. he walked & took shark cartalidge supplements. he was there to see me win a math award & get my name on a plaque at murray junior high, to see the birth of the rest of his grand children, for my high school graduation & acceptance into hamline, to see all of us grow-up just a little bit more. & in the end, it was only the last six months that were really bad, but he was able to fight off his parasite for a while, to claim the life that he wanted to live. he had a good last ten years. & i think there's a lesson in there for me.
one day, a good four or five years pre-cancer diagnosis, my grandpa & i were walking along, i was holding his hand, & i stopped to pick up a penny. he asked me why i would bother to stop & pick up a penny, it wasn't much money at all. to which i replied, "pennies add up to nickels, & that adds up to dimes, & that adds up to quarters, & you wouldn't throw away a quarter, would you grandpa?" & in so much as every little bit helps, whether it's one more penny in my bank account or one more ounce gone from my body, it really is the baby steps that make the biggest change. i mean, what else did we learn from bob? & seriously, what about bob?