Brain Burp
I’m rarely one to bitch about anything, least of all the asinine doings, sayings, and goings-on of others. I really don’t care what level of stupidity the collective “they” aspire to nor does it even register anywhere on my mental radar.
Just kidding.
Everything registers! I pay close attention to every morsel of stimuli that thuds my receptors. The thing is, it isn’t the others I am paying attention to– it’s me. I’m such a shlump mouth-breather by comparison to the rest of the population that I can only look in as opposed to looking out. Kudos to the collective on being handsome geniuses, one and all!
Moving on…
A benefit of our health insurance is an annual health screening, the purpose of which is to determine how uninsurable I am. Turns out, I’m still fairly healthy in the statistical sense and therefore our premiums are completely acceptable. Moreover, I’ve little more than an annual relationship (knock on wood) with my doctor thus far and most likely will die at my leisure– or perhaps in some horrific orgasm-induced jet ski accident (I haven’t decided yet).
An additional benefit of our policy is the use of a Health Coach– a nice enough lady who I’m sure means well, but is also a kindly sycophant who agrees with every contrived and obtuse thing I say and laughs at all my jokes (even when I’m intentionally unfunnier than my normal unfunny). She does an awesome job of sticking to a script- for which I can totally imagine the reasons for- liability, conformity, and simplicity.
An additional tic to her credit is that she has a wealth of information backing her in the form of a fairly comprehensive website. This leaves me to surmise that her prime directive is part cheerleader, and part website tour guide. She is pleasant, supportive, and knows her links. I appreciate what I’m guessing is her function, but don’t think I’m getting much more than a bi-weekly verbal pat on the back for every unintelligible grunt emanating from my gob. I confess that I’m unworthy of her time.
The cool thing is that I’ve been diligent with most everything that has worked for me in the past and I am showing progress. I’ve been monitoring my blood pressure and weight with OCD tenacity. So far I’m down 8 pounds since my health screening and I’ve consistently kept track of my intake and exercise. I continue to alternate between the gym, track, and bleachers throughout the week and all has been pretty beneficial.
Result: I feel energetic and like I’m the master of my domain, king of my castle. Bonus: my mom thinks I’m special.
Rock on.
Tags: bitch, blood pressure, health coach, insurance, weight loss | 
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I heard said once that, “A man at rest is impossible to start.” Hell, I probably had that on one of my t-shirts a millennia ago. I don’t know, but I do know this; “at rest” is not a good way to be when I need to drop some weight. The thing is, I recognize a pattern that has developed over the course of the holiday season, a pattern of consumption.
It is still amazing to me, in light of all the introspection and self-analysis that the past few years have been absolutely filled with, that I couldn’t see this one come and somehow squelched it before it became a deafening crescendo of self-loathing and regret. Sure, a cookie here and some candy there may not seem like much incidentally– but gob-stuffing every time I pass a morsel creates a pattern that’s sure to end with me curled into the fetal position under my desk, eating my feelings washing it all down with a nog of tears.
So… the New Year has fully begun, vacations are over and our oven has gone cold. No more platters of cookies, bars, brownies, or other morsels of belt-busting, insulin-whoring goodness. No more readily available obesity-inducing clumps of heavenly health sabotage to indulge in or any more pie for my piehole. Time to create some new patterns.
Rock on.
While I’m not in any way into diet pills, I am fairly consistent in increasing the value of my urine through the ingestion of a multitude of vitamins. Recently, I started taking a “mature” vitamin tablet designed to address the peculiarities associated with my having crawled the earth for so long. I’ve added this to my morning regimen of fish oil and aspirin.
Do they make a difference? With cold and flue season upon us, I hope so. The second-to-last thing I need is to get sick. Illness totally mucks up my day. Want to know what the “last thing” is? Just ask.
Regardless, my urine has never been so gloriously amber.
Rock on (for the holidays, especially).
Via: Canada Drug Center
We all judge. People judge me; some look down, others up. I judge, I’d like to think from a position of concern- an empathy for those with similar struggles. The thing is, my judgement of other’s perceptions of themselves is way off-base much of the time. I’ll see someone who I imagine is struggling with their weight and I’ll find myself feeling badly that they’re suffering.
Many times they aren’t suffering at all. Maybe I should judge.
Rock on.
Yesterday was a day that was virtually exercise-free. After such an awesome session of track/stadium circuitry on Saturday, it was odd to slip into a virtual vacuum yesterday. I made up for it this morning with a continuation of the c25k. Yeah, week two– hitting’ it, baby!
To my surprise I discovered that I have completed week #1 of the c25k program. I’m sure that anyone who knows anything about Couch to 5K knows that it is only a three day per weekkind of thing (at least I think it is– all I know is that when I started the app on my iPhone this morning it went right to “Week 2 Day 1″). I guess I should have researched it a little, or looked ahead on the app. Life for me is a wondrous adventure of a shock and surprise, living-in-the-moment-mystery lately– I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, where the hell I am, or what’s happening next. I’m without conscience nor clue; living in a whimsical oblivion cognizance-free and letting the world and all it’s cares and imagery wash over me like a perfumed fog.
OK, not so much. Thing is, I’m in constant consistent anguish over the infinite possible outcomes to my every thought, word, action or care minutely related to my existence. I’m a cautious, conscientious traveler light-stepping through a self-created minefield of horrendous possibility where potential is more ominous than my ultimate passing through the veil of this mortal coil and the resultant possibility of an after-life is forgettably inconsequential and insignificant as compared to the subset of possible permutations and infinite ramifications of the perceived tonal intent of my voice when I say, “Hello.”
Rituals protect me. The order of things. Left sock first is always the way. Check email before putting on my shoes. Go to the gym before cardio at the track. The specific order of things adds structure and prevents omission.
Except when it doesn’t.
Rock on.
The more I think, turns out the less I know. Chew on that one, Steve. It doesn’t matter what the topic is, the more I think, discuss, and think some more, the more often I run smack-splat into the realization that whatever notion I had going in was inadequate crap. I guess the right way to look at it is to be grateful I’m still capable of learning something– despite my advanced years and skull density.
Today’s befuddlement turned epiphany: women’s fashion. Not a fun ride.
Rock on.
OK, so what do you call it when the title of my post makes a statement that, when looking at the two parts of a two-part title separately, kinda make sense in a way– but when coupled kinda don’t in a things-that-make-you-go, “Huh?” kinda way? Say, “Wednesday,” and you’re probably as right as rain.
So here’s the nugget, quitting at any point prior to the moment of success guarantees failure. Quitting at any point even after experiencing a modicum of success precludes a reversal of that success (think “yo-yo dieting”). Conversely, my hallucination comprises the tenet that perseverance and tenacity until my last breath is the surest formula for my ultimate success.
I blush at the though of all the times during my life that, upon experiencing a some level of success, I just quit doing whatever it was that was working. Hell, there were times when I cognitively quit doing what was working because it was working- perhaps for no other reason than my perceived lessening of the associated challenge. The thing is/was, whatever chemical triggers that were firing off in my brain that were feeding whatever need I had at the time, were satisfied by merely overcoming some hurdle- beyond the hurdle was boredom. Quiting created another hurdle. All in all a tedious circle of mediocrity.
How does one rise above? Methinks the answer lies within the hallucination rather than historical reality.
Rock on.
131 lbs. lost
and I still have a ways to go!
No Diet Plans
No Pills
No Exercise Classes
No Surgery
Just Sensible Eating
and Exercise
MyFitnessPal - Nutrition Facts For Foods
