Unshaped thoughts

• I wasn't planning on writing much about this, but since it's my weight loss blog, I guess it's relevant to mention the fact that I'm below 200 lbs. for the first time since I genuinely can't remember. I doubt that I was at this level for much of college (maybe freshman year?) and I definitely haven't been living a semi-healthy lifestyle like this ... perhaps ever.

There's growing pains, though. For one thing, when you're an ex-fatty fat fattily fat, it's a bit difficult to truly understand who/where you really are once you've dropped down to perhaps just overweight. I mean, by no means am I a string bean. Instead, I'm sort of a weird mixture of skinny parts and chunky bits. It's going to be a while, if ever, before I really feel completely "sound."

That being said, it's interesting to be ... "relevant" again. Not just with women (whom I could still use a little more finesse courting, or at least a little help finding ones who aren't batshit fucking insane), but even with people of my gender. There's something defiling about having some dude look down his nose, dismissively, at your bloated torso. I will never fucking miss that feeling. Ever.

• This blog might become a bit of a repository for random thoughts, not just food stuff. Frankly, I'm not a health expert and not quite "healthy" yet. I could still use less salt and meat in my diet and I could still subject myself to more strenuous exercise. Despite that warning, I'm going to throw stuff up from time to time when I'm restless or have a day off from my day job blog. Probably products/foods/tricks that are helping me work my way from "overweight" to "normal." (Man, fuck the BMI. Bunchadicks.)

• The one exercise I've been willing to commit to is walking. The problem is that I'm getting wildly committed to it. Like twice a day for an hour at a serious (for me, at least, as I'm a natural stroller) pace. Tonight I really had trouble stopping at 1 hour and 15 minutes. Inevitably I push things too far on crappy shoes.

The problem is I hate shopping for shoes. Seriously, I fucking hate buying shoes. Everything about it. They never feel comfortable, really. They always seem exorbitantly expensive, even if you can argue - quite successfully - that they're probably worth it.*

* - Sorry, female readers, but your shoes often break the "worth it" rule. Especially if they hurt your feet. Strange to see random traditional bits of masochism stick around through all of society's innovations. I think you're all overcompensating for your perfectly wonderful as is calves and maybe sporting a stray Napoleon(ette?) complex here and there.

But, seriously, if someone shot me with a "Kill Bill 2" truth serum dart and asked me:

David Carradine pre-horrifyingly funny masturbation death: "So, James you have two choices.

1. You could practically bathe in beautiful women, healthful and delicious foods, creature comforts and security. Pure, unadulterated hedonism, though you obviously still have to work and such ...

OR

2. Your life would be relatively the same - bank account where it is, car the way it looks, blah blah blah ...

... except, in this scenario, you'd never have to deal with errands or mundane tasks ever again. Never another lawn mowed. Shoes expensed to your bank account, fitted in advance, in your home. So on and so forth.

I have to say, if I was around a group of people I wanted to impress, I'd probably go with choice 1. So decadent. So full of women I could swim in and such. Totally the manly answer, right?

Yet, really, I'd almost trip over myself for #2. I imagine this a lonely stance. Maybe. If nothing else I imagine there are some militaristic types who would despise me for such a view. In their eyes, the things I treasure - rare moments without thought or, conversely, with a downpour of unexplainable new ones - are the very portions of life they'd call "fat." In their minds (I'm really guessing here, completely) the tedium is the true "meat."

Well, fuck them. Bull-shit time is my steak.