I have promised to check in via blog, as part of my participation in IB’s “most improved” category in the “Fittest Executive” contest, every couple weeks until the winners are unveiled. Since I have not yet met with a nutritionist (another appointment and benefit of being in the competition), I haven’t yet hit on the perfect dietary balance for me to lose weight.
However, that’s not the reason or excuse for why I haven’t. As a veteran Weight Watchers member, I’m not ignorant about the nutritional or caloric considerations of chips versus apples. Neither do I lack willpower or the competitive personality it takes to drop 40 pounds (especially when competing with others to do it).
So there you have it: I have no excuses at all (beyond a lack of motivation) for maybe actually putting on a couple pounds since starting the competition. I say “maybe” because I can’t even muster the interest to get on the scales to excite or disappoint myself.
I only have irrational rationalizations to offer for my lack of enthusiasm or interest.
When my brother died recently, he was at his lowest weight of the past five or so years, having succeeded finally (through a weird “protein only” diet) in dropping a significant amount of poundage. He looked great and felt great. My mother had lost a lot of weight before she died, too, resigning herself to rabbit-type salads for a few months at the expense of everything she most loved to eat to attract this guy she had a crush on. She made an attractive corpse at age 66, so mission accomplished.
I have not made any weird psychological associations between being skinny and dying, but I have momentarily abandoned the fantasy that living a healthy lifestyle protects one from such things as cancer or brain hemorrhages. I was, in fact, in the best shape (and had the best weight ratio) of my life when I was diagnosed, years ago, with cancer. It was after treatment when I put on the pounds. And then a few more. And then many more.
Then I lost the extra weight, when my remission seemed to be trustworthy, via WW, as mentioned above. I put the pounds back on a couple years later, when I became a little less diligent and a lot more active in the kitchen again with my favorite recipes, like Irish potato/cheese soup and homemade freckle soda bread.
Add McDonald’s entrees for lunch because, hey, I’m busy during the workday and write or work on client genealogical projects most evenings.
Therefore, the opportunity to participate as a shadow competitor in IB’s “most improved” contest is perfect for me, no doubt; I’m just not perfect for it at the moment, having just made lots of trips to see family members who remember that I truly LOVE fried catfish and fried pork tenderloin sandwiches, and cream cheese mashed potatoes. These are foods I not only could “marry, if you love them so much” but have married.
And I’ve also stayed attached to well-intentioned and physically active (i.e., skinny) family farm people who offer good, traditional foods – or to meet me at a favorite hometown restaurant when I most need a little comfort food. Problem was, I recently ate a lot of it, not a little, needing more comfort than even dessert could proffer.
I’ve not been a perfect candidate, time-wise either, for trading in a lax lifestyle for a purposeful one, having planned a special vacation with a grandson before knowing of my brother’s impending demise. I left for the planned vacation just after handling the details of Kurt’s death, and so had more “travel food” on the heels of just returning from Missouri trips. Again, I was ill prepared, mentally, to order a salad when my young traveling companion, Patrick, 10, most wanted to split a big double-cheese pizza with his nana. And P.S., folks: a cold, smooth Guinness goes really, really well with hot weather, hot pizza, and Florida sunsets.
But now I’m back, all my big travel plans (and surprises) are hopefully behind me, and so I had oatmeal for breakfast and tomato soup for lunch and don’t count me out of the competition, shadow or not, just yet.
I may be the fat lady contralto you’re all waiting to hear sing, but I’m no quitter, so the show’s not over yet. Just needed, I guess, a little space and time to get my bearings back, and time to call the promised nutritionist at Pinnacle Health Club, time to reschedule my appointment with the trainer, and then I’ll get it done.
Hopefully, I’ll have a more inspiring story to share in a couple weeks.
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