VooDoo Magics (End Week Three)

Thanks for joining me again! It's been an interesting bunch of days so far...

I am sleeping better. Partly, because my ribs are now a month into mending, the rest I attribute to the weight I know I have lost. Although I don't plan to weigh in officially until I see my doctor next week, there are hints of progress, long buried in my soft flesh that are beginning to surface as the excess fat on me loses its grip. I am stepping lighter, sitting taller and have a little more energy to expend in the realm of managing my life.

I've been sticking to 'the plan' as rigidly as I can; two shakes a day, a snack and a reasonably fatty, low carb meal in the evening. Over the last few days, I've been eating less as well. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it seems that I've been subconsciously reducing my portion sizes to what I assume is a more normal level, based on the actual needs of my body. This has mostly affected eating in the evenings. I feel like I should be hungrier, but find that I am actually thirsty, or just bored. But I've accepted that twenty years of poor eating habits has simply left me with bad impulse conditioning. I can't fathom plugging down a 'full size' meal in the traditional American sense any longer. Gone are the days of bloating on bread, potatoes, and soda. Another two weeks and I hope to be over the transient cravings that occasionally do sprout up; longings for french fries & catsup, the reflexive picking at the toast my daughters didn't finish with breakfast, or one of plethora of comfort dishes that got me in this position to begin with. Somehow that nasty tenacity in me has seen fit to harden my resolve and temper it with contentment.

Earlier this week, I found myself inside an impromptu gathering of family, tasked with taking care of one of our little tribe's needs. While we whittled away a few moments waiting for the rest of the pack to show, my wife and I decided to bribe our compatriots by springing for donuts. Moments later, I found myself inside a pepto-pink doughnut shop in Portland (yes, that one) while my loved ones selected and ate a pile of fried & frosted sweet buns covered with breakfast cereal. The sticky confections looked good, but I was struck by the thought that any one of them would be more than I could eat in a siting these days. It was the sort of magically rational realization one experiences when newborn logic screams at us inwardly, alerting us that we have outgrown something.

And so with that mental voodoo in front of me, I held and watched without a care in the world, holding back the observation that the fans above us continually lashed out wafts of sugary vapor so sharp, it made my teeth hurt just breathing. I got the sense that they all felt a little on the shy side, knowing that I was the odd man out by choice. They shouldn't. I could make lists upon lists of full of choices I've made for myself that I don't expect anyone to follow me down. But that's what family is; people bound together by a common purpose, each adding their distinctions and imperfection to the story of their lives. Besides, I had a clutch of smoked sausages in my pocket. I might not be as well thought out as my grandfather was, but in true scouting fashion, I try to be as prepared as I can be.

Onward!

 

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