(no subject)
I'm pretty heavy. There's a photo of me I'm using on a forum I hang out on occasionally that is now me minus 50 lbs. and looking 10 years younger. It's only half that old, but it's still me looking a lot healthier than I do right now. I was going to say, "better" and then self-edited to not seem vain. No I'm totally vain. I looked good then, and now I look like a fat version of my dad.
There's still no pill for self control or increased executive faculty (I think that's the right phrase). You know, that part of your programming that says, "Dude, you don't need two slices of pizza. Even one is probably overdoing it," and then you order something healthy. And then you make that same decision every day for six months and then you weigh 20 lbs. less. That's the big struggle. Telling your brain that even though you've eaten this way for 30 years, give or take, that you need to change now. Oh, and by you I mean me, but I'm saying you because it's less embarassing.
I know that decision is one that's cultivated though, and I keep putting it off. Tomorrow I'll eat healthy I say and then tomorrow I forget. In the meantime my arteries are sweating and considering tapping out while I eat bites of a cheese quesadilla between rounds of Mortal Kombat. Every time I make the decision to put it off, though, I make it easier to keep putting off. The only thing that will make it easier to be healthy is to decide, right now, to be healthy. Along with everything else I want to change about my life right this second. Start doing that. Stop doing this.
I've done it before. What's so hard about it know? What sign from the heavens am I waiting for? Do I need a giant Mufasa head to emerge from the clouds and go, "Jesus Christ, look at you"? There's no real impetus for me to change I guess. I haven't had a heart attack. I don't have diabetes. Carly doesn't tell me I'm gross and unattractive and overweight. I'm supposed to be smarter than that, though. I'm supposed to know that even though there's no immediate danger those things loom. But the lazy and/or self-destructive part of me says, "So what? Everyone dies."
I've been faced with what I thought was mortal danger before, when I thought I was having a heart attack (I wasn't). So it's funny that my brain plays tough guy on this. If my big fat ass could hold a knife to my throat maybe I'd get something done.
There's still no pill for self control or increased executive faculty (I think that's the right phrase). You know, that part of your programming that says, "Dude, you don't need two slices of pizza. Even one is probably overdoing it," and then you order something healthy. And then you make that same decision every day for six months and then you weigh 20 lbs. less. That's the big struggle. Telling your brain that even though you've eaten this way for 30 years, give or take, that you need to change now. Oh, and by you I mean me, but I'm saying you because it's less embarassing.
I know that decision is one that's cultivated though, and I keep putting it off. Tomorrow I'll eat healthy I say and then tomorrow I forget. In the meantime my arteries are sweating and considering tapping out while I eat bites of a cheese quesadilla between rounds of Mortal Kombat. Every time I make the decision to put it off, though, I make it easier to keep putting off. The only thing that will make it easier to be healthy is to decide, right now, to be healthy. Along with everything else I want to change about my life right this second. Start doing that. Stop doing this.
I've done it before. What's so hard about it know? What sign from the heavens am I waiting for? Do I need a giant Mufasa head to emerge from the clouds and go, "Jesus Christ, look at you"? There's no real impetus for me to change I guess. I haven't had a heart attack. I don't have diabetes. Carly doesn't tell me I'm gross and unattractive and overweight. I'm supposed to be smarter than that, though. I'm supposed to know that even though there's no immediate danger those things loom. But the lazy and/or self-destructive part of me says, "So what? Everyone dies."
I've been faced with what I thought was mortal danger before, when I thought I was having a heart attack (I wasn't). So it's funny that my brain plays tough guy on this. If my big fat ass could hold a knife to my throat maybe I'd get something done.