I weighed in this afternoon at a meaty 223.8 lbs.
This is quite an accomplishment for a man that could eat whatever he wanted up until two years ago. Hell, five years ago I was at 175. I’m just shy of 6’3″ and should clock in between 190-200lbs. That’s ideal for me.
Actually, your scale weight doesn’t matter. Well, not really. I’m surprised more isn’t made about this. Your weight is a combination of muscle and fat. From everything I’ve read all what’s most important is the ratio is between the two. The lower the body fat percentage the better. This way you could be bigger (more muscular and heavier), and still be healthy.
The problem with dieting and not building muscle at the same time is simple – depending on your body type, you could be burning lean muscle by dieting, and the fat remains in the body.
Okay, that’s all I know about the body. I’ll leave you to do your own research. Dr. Oz probably has a whole article on this shizz.
Today was the kick in the butt I needed. I hadn’t weighed myself in months. Out of sight, out of mind. Sure, I still ate a full pizza afterwards, but I’m now getting ready to make the shift. I figure I’m eating five hundred calories more than I should be every day. Also, I’m not moving around much.
My girlfriend bought me a FitBit for Christmas and it tracks your steps. I set my first goal at 10k steps – it took four days. I was so proud I told her and she said, “You’re supposed to walk 10k steps every day!” Oops.
It’s funny – I used to have shame about my weight. If I clocked in over 200lbs, I would get mad at myself yelling inward about the poor food choices I had made. Today was different. I acknowledged that I am overweight. Hell, I’m at my fattest. But I had no judgement about it.
To be able to see myself as I am without judgement (at least with weight) is a major step forward for me. Of course I have four years of therapy, too. We sort of work on this stuff. But to be this large and not ashamed is mind-boggling. I’m confused by my own non-self-meanness.
My fear up until recent was that if I wasn’t hard on myself and didn’t constantly demand better, I would lose motivation and not reach my true potential. I don’t think that is true anymore. It’s a shame strategy and it doesn’t compel me to change. It’s paralyzing.
Now that the shame is gone fear is coming up – if I’m not hard on myself won’t I be less inclined to make the proper changes toward healthy living? Won’t I become complacent and get even fatter? The truth is I don’t know.
I have three weeks before I vacation with the girlfriend in Nicaragua. As a representative of the United States, it’s my duty to look svelte and chiseled to the natives. To accomplish this feat will take about six months. Maybe I’ll just crash diet up until the trip and drink water with lemon for lunch. Sure I’ll be woozy and pass out constantly at work, but at least I’ll look undernourished and emaciated. You know, the American beauty ideal!