Wednesday, April 3, 2013

42 Pounds to Disneyland: The Wall

The continuing tales of one chunky Disney fan's personal quest to lose 80 pounds and visit Disneyland, in that order.  
See my first 80 Pounds to Disneyland post for all the details.

I am a little over 42 pounds away from my weight loss goal.  One week ago, I was a little over 42 pounds away.  I'm pretty sure tomorrow it'll be 43 or 44 pounds.  After 3 months of mostly consistent progress, my diet/lifestyle change/size reduction has finally hit the wall.  It's that horrible time when progress seems to stagnate, effort dries up, and my dear friends apathy and distraction come around to visit.

Generally speaking, I'm surprised it took this long.  My entire life I've been a stress eater, which is a horrible vicious cycle.  If your immediate reaction to being called fat and ugly is to eat something unhealthy, you feel doomed to follow a terrible cycle, and feeling doomed also makes you eat.  While I'd never say my life is bad, trying to help support the household through inconsistent freelance work while looking for a more stable job position is stressful.  In addition, working from home means any time I'm agitated, depressed, or just bored, there's a refrigerator and a full cupboard waiting for me downstairs.  For a while I resisted the alluring hum of the fridge, but I'm finding myself inexplicably staring inside it far too often lately.
Eating wouldn't be so bad if I was having a few carrots or some nice celery.  The unfortunate truth is that I've also grown tired of the healthy food we have around.  My favorite vegetables are almost exclusively things that make my breath resemble a dragon's, and all the bananas I've eaten make me feel in touch with my primate ancestors.  Most meals at home are Lean Cuisines of various sorts, since my wife's inconsistent work schedule makes meal planning impossible.  We used to eat healthy options when we left the house, but now that our home meals are so boring, we find our willpower no longer holds when looking at menus filled with burgers and barbecue.

This is what generally happens whenever I think about exercising.
At this point, exercise could be my salvation, but it seems I'm damned even on that count.  Between work, writing, and keeping the house in order, I sometimes find little time or energy left for exercise.  For a while, I was managing a consistent hour of aerobics a day, at one point including 20 minutes of jogging.  Now I can barely muster the energy for a half hour or hour of simple, routine stepping.  I'd like to say I was at least doing that daily, but I'd be lying.  

I refuse to lie, and I refuse to lie to myself.  I've hit a wall, and I'm letting myself down.  However, I will get past this wall.  I have to get past it, because that's the only way to achieve my goals.  I want to go to Disneyland, I want to be healthy, and I want to stop eating so many Lean Cuisines.  After that I need to figure out how to have a career writing about Disney and adorable animals, but we're dealing with one goal at a time here.

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