Now What?

Now that the holidays¹ are behind us, it’s time to start seriously thinking about getting back on the wagon. For those of you just tuning in, here’s a quick recap:

Back in August of 2008, terrified of rising blood sugar readings, I decided to cut way down on the high glycemic foods and more or less quit eating like a pig all the time. I also re-launched backtothefridge.com, posting five days a week, and keeping the world highly informed of the number I saw between my big toes every morning. The primary goal was to get back to Onederland, that magical place where one’s weight begins with a one ².

Two hundred and fifteen days later, I hit 199.5 for the first time in a long time. After three days in a row below 200, I made a tentative pass at calling it official. Mostly because I didn’t want to just reach Onederland, I wanted to stay there.

And I did. For a while. Actually, for more than a while. With the exception of just peeking over the 200 mark on two or three days, I stayed squarely in Onederland for six straight months, even going as low as 193.5.

I was astounded. It wasn’t just the fact that I’d lost thirty pounds. Hell, I’ve lost thirty pounds at least sixty-seven times over the last couple decades. It’s the fact that I kept this whole thing up for more than a year. A year! Imagine that! I blogged about it regularly. I entered everything I ate into The Daily Plate for well over a year, without missing a single day: holidays and vacation included. And not once did I feel like I was dieting at all.

I had apparently achieved that mythical and oh-so-unattainable “lifestyle change” that so many of us nod our heads in vigorous agreement over yet so few of us can actually pull off. I was as amazed as anyone, and that’s saying a lot. Then I made a minor tactical error: I didn’t drop dead right then and there. Because, knowing me, that would have been the only guarantee of not screwing it up.

Nope, my heart kept beating, my brain kept functioning³, and my body suddenly realized that the Cheez-It reserves stored in my liver had reached dangerously low levels. It freaked out, over-compensated to the tune of forty-six pounds of the wonderful orange crackers, and now, six months later, I have to utter the most dreaded words that any dieter ever utters in all their uttering utterances: “I gained it all back.”

I repeat: I gained it all back.

At first, I just went up to 205, which was my “absolute, do not go above this weight at all” mark. That soon turned into 210, where I said, “Okay, I mean it: this is the mark I won’t go above.” At 215, I said, “Never mind. I meant this mark. This is my high water mark.” Then 220. Then 225.

Then today, just 286 days past my lowest low point, I’m up thirty-five pounds. (Or a gain of nearly a pound a week.) All that work. All that blogging. All that time wasted. All for nothing.

So, welcome to Day One #99. That’s not an exaggerated or whimsical number. It’s really my 99th Day One, according to my massive spreadsheet where I count the number of times “Day One” has appeared in the “Notes” column. I’d love to say I’m all fired up about this and that I’m ready to get right back on the wagon and that I’m taking you all with me on a trip to Magical Inspiration Land where everyone’s a pony and they all eat rainbows and poop butterflies.

But let’s face it, I’ve already tried this 98 times. I’ve lost thousands of pounds. I’ve gained it all back. Every time. This has been going on for twenty straight years. At what point to I just wake up and realize this is who I am. I’m not going to go on any “lifestyle change” that will grow my hair back, or change my eye color, or sprout a third arm. There are obviously physiological forces at work here far beyond my control. Food is brought to my mouth by muscle contractions. Muscles are controlled by neural impulses. Impulses are sent by the brain. The brain is primarily made up of oxygen, carbon, and hydrogen atoms. These atoms are simply obeying the laws of physics. I suddenly don’t feel like I have any say in the matter any more.

[Insert cliché record-scratching sound effect here.]

Whoops! Sorry about that! I forgot I’m supposed to keep this light-hearted and humorous. After all, that’s why the twelve of you keep coming back month after month, isn’t it?

Well, here’s the good news. I’m still me and that means that 98 prior failures isn’t going to deter me from trying it just one more time. As much as I realize that’s the clinical definition of insanity, I just can’t not try it one more time. It’s what the atoms want me to do again.

So here we go. Wish me luck! I’ll let you now how things go 286 days from now.

Charlie

¹ Oh you know, the usual holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Boxing Day, New Years Eve, New Years Day, the Day After New Year’s Day, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, my birthday, Groundhog Day, Groundhog Day, Groundhog Day, Groundhog Day, Valentine’s Day, Presidents Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Bunsen Burner Day, Easter, and the ever-popular Weekend After Easter Where All the Remaining Candy Needs to be “Put Away” Day.

² In pounds, that is. I wasn’t looking to get back to 199 kilograms or even 199 stone.

³ Arguable, yes.