Inspiration?

I’ve made it no secret that when it comes right down to it, I’m a realist. To the optimist, I look like a pessimist. To the pessimist, I look uncommitted. But I don’t mind looking at things for what they are. In fact, I can’t look at things any other way. It’s just the way I’m wired.

When I started this blog, I made a mental list of my goals. First and foremost, it was my primary outlet for writing. The topic may be about food and weight loss, but that’s not really its purpose. (The real purpose of this blog is for me to build a ginormous fan base so that some day Bill Gates or Warren Buffet will come across it and buy me out for a billion dollars. And don’t you worry! I won’t forget all the little people I stepped on to get to the top.)

But just “writing” every day is a pointless endeavor, in and of itself. Writers write to be read. And readers read to get something out of it. You’re not here on a classroom assignment. You’re taking time out of your own busy days because you actually want to be here. That’s an amazing thing.

Humorous though the blog may be, I really would like to help from time to time. You may not believe it, but the second thing on that mental list of goals is all about me trying to pass on what I’ve painfully learned over the last eighteen years. That’s all well and good, but now we run into a pesky little problem: the problem where I’m a “realist.” You see, realists aren’t very good at inspiring people. Let me draw a picture:

Optimist: I lost 18 pounds in one month! If I can do it, anybody can do it!

Pessimist: There’s no possible way that will ever happen to the likes of you.

Realist: Statistically speaking, you have an eight percent chance of this happening. But even if you do lose the weight, there’s a ninety-two percent chance it will all be back within three months.

In general, people do not react positively to those last two statements. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not: if you want inspiration, you demand a clear, positive picture. Lie to me! you might say, if that’s what it takes to get you off your barcalounger and onto the treadmill.

So I thought about it. “Could I do that? Could I really be Mr. Inspiration? Do I have an Inner Richard Simmons just waiting to burst out, give everyone a big hug, and post oatmeal recipes ceaselessly?” I could, of course. I’m sure I could pretend to be whatever I want. But there are two problems with that:

1. The part where I used the word “pretend.”
2. There are already one hundred thousand blogs out there already doing just that—and genuinely, I might add.

So why should I pretend to be something I’m not only to become just one more blog in an endless sea of inspirational blogs? What point do I serve when inspiration is found in so many other, much more appropriate places?

As I pondered all this, nearly drifting into pessimistic territory, I had a minor epiphany. It may very well be that taking the “realist” approach is the best of both worlds. Because deep down we’re not really fooled by the unrealistic pictures. If so-and-so lost 100 pounds doing the AbSlim 2000 program, we may want to believe the whole if they can do it, we can do it too syndrome—but c’mon—we know better.

So how about this alternative: take the case of a guy named Charlie. He has a serious Cheez-It problem, he can barely make it through any Christmas without eating forty-seven pounds of Chex Mix, he has a lifelong goal of eating three dozen Long John Silver’s Chicken Planks in a single sitting, he has lost and gained the same weight over and over and over. But get this: he has also recently struck upon something that seems to be working. For once.

In spite of his all-too-familiar problems, what if his recent success caused this crazy thought to enter your mind: “If he can do it, maybe I can too.” That would be something! Why? Because I never came right out and said that. A realist would never say that. But a realist may inadvertently demonstrate a successful strategy and maybe, just maybe, it clicks with someone else. Is even that possible?

Realistically speaking, I’d say yes. And I’m dying to know what you think.

Oh, and by the way, if you are here for a classroom assignment, please let me know. I need to have a serious talk with your teacher.