I’ve been struggling with being a big dude for a while now…. and I always talk about getting back to my fighting weight and getting back right and being the dude who I was back whenever.
But I always temper it. I always make deals with myself about how, “Ok, one more burrito…” or “One more weekend and then I’m gonna turn it around and get this shit together.” or “one more
pack cigarette” or “one more night of getting it in” and then I’m good.
But thats bullshit. Whenever you make deals with yourself, you are pretty much dead in the water.
I’m soooo good for that. I can justify shit and make dates to get it done or whatever. For crying out loud I started an entire website dedicated to keeping myself in check and making myself accountable and giving myself daily motivations and all of that shit. But here is the thing. I started this site back in 2012. Its October of 2013. Its a year and a half later and I’m probably no more than 10 pounds less than I was when I started this shit. I’m fat. I get it. I’m sloppy, I get it. Well, I’m not a complete mess, but when I look in the mirror I’m not ok with the dude that is looking back at me.
Here is the one thing that I am lucky about. I’m not sick or anything. I don’t have trouble walking or I don’t have shortness of breath or I don’t feel like I’m dying inside and there is no hope. I’m just fatter, waaaay fatter than I should be. and I fucking sweat like Shaq whenever there is the slightest output of energy for me. But, I’ve always gotten away with the idea that I have settled into this weight and if I do say so myself, I keep it together so that I’m still relatively attractive.
I stress the relatively part because if you take me what I am right now and put me in the fit S. mold, I’m better. Thats just a fact. Still though, I say to myself, “I’m cool, and I can hold a conversation, I can still get a number and a date with a girl,” but in reality, I should be better than this.
I always let other people talk me in to this too when they are like, “c’mon dude, it is what it is… might as well enjoy life.”
I can’t let that cloud the brain. I know better.
I’ve done silly diets. I’ve done real diets. I’ve done the crazy workout thing. I’ve started the p90x jawn. I’ve got memberships at several gyms. I’ve woken up early. I’ve worked out late. I’ve done detoxes. I’ve done juice stuff. I’ve done everything that a normal cat does when they are getting it back together, short of getting shot up with stuff, short of surgeries, short of the crazy stuff. I’ve got more workout gear and more pairs of NIKEs than you can imagine. I have a SPIN bike in my apartment. I’ve got a yoga mat. I’ve P90X in my dvd player queued up RIGHT NOW….
You know what, I’ve lost weight. I’ve gained it back. Luckily for me, I’ve never done the lose 20 pounds and put back 40 thing, I just lose weight and then put back the weight I had on before I did it. Heres the thing, I know what works. Or, I know what works for me at least. And its simple:
Eat right. Sleep. Watch the drinks. Work your fucking ass off.
Its that simple.
I was having a joke with a friend the other day because I think we all try and trick ourselves with motivational tactics and looking on line for inspiration and looking at pinterest or websites for whatever, or read some book, or do something we saw on tv to figure it out.
But at the end of the day, what do all of these things tell us?
They tell us to eat better and work out.
Simple. I don’t think all of the girl in all of those pictures that people post and repost and repost again on instagram and pinterest eat the food that all the people post and repost and repost again on instagram. If they do, they are lucky. They are the chosen few. But I doubt it. I’m sure they are at the gym twenty foe seven. Getting it in. Just so they can post ass selfies on the internet.
I’m talking to myself here but maybe it can help other people too.
What I’ve come to see as I’ve been on this journey is that when I eat some of that crazy shit, I chalk it up to getting my workout in that day so I can eat a little extra, or I can treat myself to whatever… but thats bullshit. Thats not how it works. You work your fucking weight off and then you get to talk about it.
What I think I need to do is just go in the lab and not come out for three months. No hanging out. No hitting the bar FO SHO. Make the gym the new spot to kick it at.
Ok, its time to shut it down for the night and see if I’m really about that life or if I’m just all talk.