Determined To Succeed

Have you guys ever been to Las Vegas? If you have you know that the opportunity to gamble hits you as soon as you get off the plane. Near every gate slot machines welcome you much like the wonderful hula dancers do in Hawai’i. Except instead of Leis and the sounds of island music you are welcomed with the pings, dings and electronic sounds that beckon you to come a “throw a few in” before hitting “the Strip.”

For me going home to Chicago is the same kind of experience, except instead of really cool flowered necklaces or blinky “one-armed bandits” I am welcomed by the temptations of Chicago food, starting with the Chicago-style hot dog. I don’t remember if I’ve ever described to you how absolutely yummy a Chicago-style hot dog is so I’ll start with it’s ingredients:

One sesame seed hot dog bun steamed to perfect softness, one Vienna Beef frank, mustard (and absolutely never, under penalty of being shown to the next departing flight, do you EVER add ketchup), onions, nuclear green relish (Chicagoans know what I mean when I say nuclear green), hot peppers, cucumbers, tomato slices and a pickle wedge topped off with a sprinkle of celery salt. Now that’s good eatin’, and the beginning of my visit home.

Some of you might be saying “that’s too much crap to put on a hot dog.” Well, no it’s not. That’s why hot dogs are famous in Chicago.  They are absolutely delicious, and like the Sears Tower or Wrigley Field (my Field of Dreams), a part of the city itself. But the beauty of this is equal to the problem with it – it begins in the airport and it ends in the airport.

Whenever I go home my friends here in the Philadelphia/South Jersey area ask me “so Bill. Are you going to have any Chicago pizza when you get home? Or that Italian Beef sandwich you keep talking about?” And the answer is never easy. I say “Nah. This trip I’m going to have my favorite Chinese food (at least an egg roll or two). Maybe a hot dog.” You see I have to be sooooo careful whenever I go home because a trip home usually means being tempted by the same foods that helped me grow to be over 400 pounds.

Today, I was lucky enough to have one of my hometown papers, the Chicago Sun-Times, do a story on me and weight loss and that’s what got me thinking about going home and eating. It’s so automatic. It’s so instant. It’s so tempting. Most of all, it’s so dangerous. All the foods I love in my favorite place in the entire world – home. It’s comforting and dangerous and so very tempting to have my home food experience begin as soon as I get off that plane.

But do I enjoy myself? You bet your a – er, I mean, bottom dollar – I do. But now I have to be almost hyper aware of my surroundings, situations and emotions whenever I’m near my favorite places – like 65 Seafood Restaurant, my favorite Chinese Food and egg roll in the city, near the corner of Michigan Avenue & Wacker (Wacker. Wacker. It is funny sounding, I know, but a street name, nonetheless).The legendary Superdawg on the corner of Milwaukee and Devon (pronounced de-VAHN by us natives), or Portillos in the heart of downtown on the corner of Ontario and Clark. Even Gene & Jude Red Hot Stand on River Road who hand-cut their delicious french fries right in front of ya’. That’s tasty eatin’, indeed. Not to mention my South Side/Hyde Park favorites – Harold’s Chicken (best damn fried chicken in the city), Ribs ‘N Bibs and Valois, a restaurant known as much for its wonderful all-walks-of-life clientele as it is for its “see your food” cafeteria-style method of serving.

You can see how a Chicago boy like me could grow up to grow out so much. This is what I have to be hyper aware of when I go home – the cravings for all these foods bombarding me like the beautiful neon and lighted signs and pings, dings and blinks of the slot machines that are abound in Las Vegas.

Nowadays, I am better. Not perfect, but better, about eating if/when I go home. I certainly give myself a big pep talk before stepping foot on my homeward bound plane saying “OK, Larson. You know you need to make smart choices. If you’re gonna have this you can’t have that. Got it?” And if I am lucky I do avoid giving in to the culinary temptations that surround me almost at every corner.

However I do admit having slot machines in the airport is a smart deal. They may not get you coming in, but, ideally, you’ve had so much fun you want just one last taste of it before heading back to reality, especially when waiting for your flight. This is the exact thing I feel in C Terminal at O’Hare International Airport. Whenever I’m home I have a blast just walking the streets that I want one more Taste of Chicago before heading back to Philly…

…one more hot dog for the road.

And for those history buffs out there…

The “Chicago Style” hot dog got its start from street cart hot dog vendors during the hard times of the Great Depression. Money was scarce, but business was booming for these entrepreneurs who offered a delicious hot meal on a bun for only a nickel. The famous Chicago Style Hot Dog was born! They’d start with a Vienna Beef hot dog, nestle it in a steamed poppyseed bun and cover it with a wonderful combination of toppings: yellow mustard, bright green relish, fresh chopped onions, juicy red tomato wedges, a kosher-style pickle spear, a couple of spicy sport peppers, cucumber and finally, a dash of celery salt. This unique hot dog creation with a “salad on top” and its memorable interplay of hot and cold, crisp and soft, sharp and smooth, became America’s original fast food and a true Chicago institution.

Remember the movie “Tron?” In it Oscar-winner Jeff Bridges plays a computer programmer who literally gets sucked into the virtual world of games and computers. The filmmakers back then knew, or at least had a sense of, how much technology was sucking us into our computers, and that was back in 1982.

It is so easy working from home to get sucked into the virtual world vortex. It really is. I can see how kids these days don’t go outside and play as much as we did. At your fingertips you not only have access to the news and happenings of the world but you also have media networks like Twitter and Facebook handy – enabling you to visit and “communicate” with literally hundreds of friends, all at the same time.  Nowadays, I work from home and, during the course of my day, I not only answer e-mails but I network using these wonderful media tools with friends and business associates all over the country. However, the end result is that it easily becomes 5 or 6 o’clock and I haven’t gone outside to enjoy the smattering of nice weather we’ve been having in southern New Jersey or gotten up to workout.

It wasn’t all that different when I didn’t work from home.  I’d get up, get ready, get in my car and sit in traffic with idiot drivers just to sit at work for 8 or 10 hours. Hell, in the winter I would get to work sometimes when it was dark outside and leave when it was dark outside, not once leaving my desk unless I had to use the restroom or grab a quick Coke out of the vending machine.

The past few weeks I’ve been feeling nostalgic and I now know why. I am rapidly approaching the one year anniversary of my mom, JoAnn’s, death from pancreatic cancer. I have had a hankering to reconnect with so many things, especially from my youth – music, photos, foods, friends and, most of all, my Sweet Home Chicago. I remember so many wonderful things it’s hard to tell you guys about them because they all want to come out at the same time and they get bottlenecked in my throat. But I will share one thing with you this morning – “Piggy” in the park after school.

At about 4 o’clock or so my friends, Pierre, Rachette, Richard, Liz and I (plus some other peripheral friends) would gather in the park directly behind my building in Hyde Park. We’d play a game called “Piggy,” a variation of softball that included no running of the bases but a batter who was at bat until the rest of the players made an “out” by catching the ball using a very uncomplicated set of rules. It was fun and we did this most days after school. We’d be out there so long our moms, God love ‘em, would come out and tell us it was time for dinner. I have so been thinking about those times, and I’ve so been thinking about my mom, whom I miss very, very much.

But why do I bring all of this up this morning? I do it to illustrate a point, at least a perceived one, about activity (or lack thereof) and weight loss. It used to be in the late-70s/early-80s we’d actually go out and play. We’d actually get out and interact with our friends face-to-face. If we wanted to talk to them we’d actually ring them up or knock on their doors. We didn’t have the technology that allows us to text someone, or tweet, when they’re standing right next to us at the mall, in a restaurant or yes, at the park.

Hell. Do kids even go to the park anymore?

I became and obese child, in part, due to a lack of physical activity. I may have played “Piggy” outside but it wasn’t enough, especially when you think about the quality and quantities of food I was consuming. And that was in a pre-PDA, pre X-Box, pre-social media age. The problem lies in that technology isn’t just for kids anymore and we adults can easily get sucked into the vortex of inactivity because we’re spending too much time in the virtual world and not enough time in the real one.

Yesterday I told you guys about how I’d re-gained a hard-fought-for pound. Well, that pound is gone and it took a few of his ouncie friends with him. I am down to 237.8 today thanks not only to lots of physical activity helping a friend move but also just taking the time to run to Chick-fil-A and grabbing a grilled chicken sandwich instead of having crap as that wonderful little voice inside my head keeps saying. But what about today when I don’t have to help a friend move?

So many of my friends on Twitter actually tweet that they “unplug” for a while to go and do something real – feed the kids and wash some clothes, or wash some kids and feed some clothes – and I have to do the same. We all should. I will unplug, at least for a bit, and get out and enjoy the sun, get some vitamin D – maybe even go and see a nesting pair of ducks at Cooper River and wish them well. I made a promise to myself to workout, not gain my weight back and achieve my goal. That will not happen if I’m sitting here at this wonderful box of light waiting on an e-mail that might or might not come in the next few microseconds.

No matter whether we are adults or kids, outside time is important. Time for us is important. It helps us reconnect with what matters most – our families, our real friends (not virtual ones) and most of all, ourselves especially if we are to achieve our weight loss goals. Not to mention the really cool added benefit – it’s damn fun, too.

Oh, to have the metabolism of my younger self again.

If I did it would mean two things. One, that I would have again the cast iron stomach I used to have which would take everything from apples to zucchini and not blink an eye (or flap, or valve or whatever a stomach blinks). Two, it would mean the calories I consumed would be burned very quickly and weight loss would be that/much easier.

I’ve always said that if a scientist wanted to make a gagillion dollars (that’s lots and lots of billions) they would find a way to harness that energy, that metabolism, in kids and inject it into us overweight adults with the results being we become thinner and far more energetic in the process. Sigh. If only wishes were fishes…

The fact of the matter is I ate like crap last night. I ate like crap for two reasons. One, I had done some lifting and running around yesterday, was hungry and thought I might have burned off lots of calories doing what I was doing. Two, because I had been good, for the most part, all weekend I thought dinner last night (don’t even ask me about the delicious brownies) would be OK. When will I ever learn?

Sigh again. If only I had my youthful metabolism.

It’s not that I ate until I puked or anything. It’s just that since losing weight my stomach acts and reacts differently these days to certain foods, meaning it may or may not like them, churn for a bit and remind me ever so Pepto Bismol gently that I should not have a food or combination of foods. One of these days I will finally wise up, act my age and remember these instances when again faced with eating choices that aren’t so, shall we say, adult friendly.

Can you imagine what a world would be like if adults had youthful metabolisms, though? We would be running around constantly like water molecules  suddenly heated up to a boil. We would finally have flying cars because our minds would be running at that speed and ground cars like a Ferrari just aren’t fast enough. We’d invent something faster than the internet, 4G phone networks and Fios. E-mail would seem like snail mail and Twitter would be like rolled-paper faxes (sheesh, remember those). The slowest plane on earth would be the now-retired Concord. All this and more. That’s what adults would be like. We would get so much done and we wouldn’t gain weight in the process, like Michael Phelps training for the Olympics – burning calories faster than the speed of light.

Well, an overweight adult can dream, right?

Truth is as we age our bodies slow down, whether we like it or not. And while this is a fact we can still choose to stay as active as we want while eating foods that will go along with this ever-changing state of affairs in our bodies. And the truth is I can’t eat like my youthful self anymore. As much as I’d like to and as much as I sometimes can, I simply cannot.

So there is one good thing about slowing down and getting older…we do get wiser. And it’s that wisdom that helps bring about true change, in the world and with our own bodies.

Happy Sunday, my friends. As the sun shines it’s early morning light over southern New Jersey I am still feeling nostalgic. Yesterday I listened to and wrote about “Proud Mary,” but today my nostalgic brain thinks not about music but TV.  So talk a quick walk down Memory Lane with me before you start your day or as a nice break from it…

“Now the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum. What might be right for you may not be right for some…”

Do you remember the “just say no” anti-drug campaign from the very early 80s? I was a kid when Nancy Reagan made her guest appearance on television’s number one show at the time, “Diff’rent Strokes,” to tell Arnold (”whatchu talkin’ ’bout, Willis”), Willis, Kimberly and kids all over the country to “just say no” to drugs. (Crap, now’s I’ve got that damn show theme running through my head…bah)

A weight loss journey is a constant thing. If you’re not on the road to losing (or re-losing as I am) you are on the weight maintenance road trying to keep those dreaded pounds from coming back (I’m kind of walking that path, too). And on this constant road I think about how many tempting food situations come up in the course of the day. When shopping at the mall I pass the food court, Godiva Chocolatier or Auntie Anne’s delicious (evil) pretzels.  When I see friends we sometimes go to a bar with not-so-healthy bar food or, like last night, stay at their house ordering really-not-so-healthy pizza or cheesesteaks, cheese fries or fried mushrooms. Damn! And even when I try to be good and go to the grocery store I pass aisle upon aisle, endcap upon endcap and impulse buy station after impulse buy station of tempting snacks (like Hostess Twinkies or cupcakes, Milky Way bars or – gulp – Coca Colas).

It’s enough to knock a food-a-holic like me around and throw me out of whack.  What do all of these situations have in common?  They are all situations that make me have to make smarter choices and “just say no.” Now, how many times during the course of the day do I “just say no?” I have no freaking clue but it’s a lot, I assure you. And it always seems worse on weekends. We’re always surrounded by food but it’s up to us to be strong and steel our resolve and “just say no,” at least in that particular instance, to the extra calories we don’t need.

Can you tell I’m kind of getting twitchy about snack foods? Earlier in the week I described my self-imposed moratorium from Coke as like, well, going through detox. Sometimes there’s such an overwhelming urge to have a snack I literally have to make myself walk away from the item in question to avoid getting and having it. Since I’ve been so nervous about weekends lately I’ve tried to steer clear of bad situations and meals like the ones I described above and “just say no.” (he says as he knocks on the wood top to his desk), mainly because I have lost another pound. Damn, these final fifteen are a bitch. They really are.

But am I perfect? Hell no. I sometimes do give in to a small dessert here or there, or a candy bar or doughnut with my coffee because, as I’ve said before, if I don’t I will be a miserable bastard not just in detox but more akin to a zombie searching for fresh brains to eat. These small tastes taken in moderation keep me sane and also continuously teach me that these things are treats not normal occurrences.

Like the theme song says, what choices might be right for you (or me) may not be right for others so I make my food choices and they are for me that day in that moment. Sometimes they are bad but most times they are good. I want to keep these hard-earned pounds off my body once-and-for-all and I always hope and pray I have way more many good food choices (like grilling foods, eating at home, walking away from the sweets and soft drinks, etc.) than bad ones. Because I like seeing a 238.1 on my scale instead of a 239. I hope you guys can, too. We are all struggling together. Believe me.

And I will apologize now if I’ve put the “Diff’rent Strokes” theme in your heads, too. Your 80s retro TV misery certainly has company. It ain’t leaving my mind any time soon, either…

Yawn, stretch, write.

It’s 10:00 a.m. on Saturday and I’m thinking about actually getting up to start my day. Yes, I’ve been a lazy bum but weekends are supposed to be for relaxing and not getting up too early.But while I was laying in bed trying to ignore the sounds of my clock radio I heard a song whose beginning perfectly describes, at least in part, how I’ve been feeling about weight loss these days.

The song is “Proud Mary.” You’re saying, “Huh? ‘Proud Mary?’” But follow me a bit on this one…

At the beginning of the song the great Tina Turner is talking to us, telling us about how she’s going to do part of the song easy and part of the song rough. Weight loss and eating, at least to me, feel exactly the same way.  On the one hand, it is easy going to fast food joints and picking up good-tasting, fat-tastic foods (some worth the splurge and some not) and not have to worry about the time it takes to cook them. For example, this new stupid KFC Double Down sandwich. You’ve probably seen commercials for it – two boneless white meat chicken filets (Original Recipe or Grilled), two pieces of bacon, two melted slices of Monterey Jack and pepper jack cheese and Colonel’s Sauce (However, at 540 calories for the Original Recipe and 460 for the Grilled menu item, I am never getting this monstrosity).

On the other hand, and unfortunately, it is rougher, especially when people are so busy in their lives, to find the time to cook better, healthier meals and exercise. A little voice in my head reminded me recently to prepare more foods at home, start cooking and stop eating crap. And that is so true, and I have been doing that much more lately. But it is harder and rougher and I wish the situations were reversed. It does take time, kitchen prep and baking time (especially for the sweet baked potato I had for din din last night).

But sometimes the rough way is the way to go, especially on a weight loss journey. For starters, it is far FAR cheaper to eat at home. It may take more time but if you compare the costs of meats and sides in stores per serving with the costs of eating out and fast food you will see that the dollar goes so much further when you cook food yourself. Also, the rough way allows you to pre-prep meals to take with you to work or have at another time. The cost of one meal out can make you two to four meals at home. Lastly, it is healthier. You know what’s going into your food and, therefore, into your body and you can better control the portions of the food, too.

So thinking about it, maybe doing things the “rougher” way is actually the easier way…while the “easier” way of fast food also leads to the harder way of losing weight once those stupid Double Down calories hit the thighs and butt.

I am still at 239.1 today which is great. That means over the last couple of days I have maintained that pound weight loss. I have to admit it’s been both easy and hard but I am so glad I’ve done things the rougher way. Not to mention that, while the much cheaper baked potatoes purchased at the store were cooking, I got to pass the time doing my favorite thing in the world – watching a movie…and humming a song…

…left a bad meal in the city

…working off the pounds every night and day…

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There are times, my friends, I honestly don’t know what to write for my blog. My mind is a complete blank.  Zip. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. I start the day today with an empty page that is just staring back at me, knocking on the screen and saying “hey you. Yeah, you. Get to typing already.” I even look to my crunchy (extra sugary) cup of joe from Dunkin’ Donuts to wake me up and give me inspiration but it doesn’t (especially because today’s cup is “off” and doesn’t taste so good).

I’ll start by updating you on how I did yesterday playing tour guide in Philadelphia. I was so sure I would be eating a ton while out and about enjoying the sights of Philly – the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, National Constitution Center, Art Museum and Old City. But thanks to some excellent will (Bill) power and lots of walking I ended up not eating cheesesteak after cheesesteak, which is awesome. I even lost a pound in the process.

It’s especially awesome because, true to form, it’s Friday and I am stressing a bit about the weekend. I know I shouldn’t, especially since I’ve been much better about recognizing that sometimes it’s this stress that actually causes me to overeat. So I head into this weekend better than I have the past few. I am now in day three of my Coke detox, which is good, and I only had one soft drink all of yesterday – my can of TAB. Yes, TAB. That TAB. Do you guys know how much crap I got for that in e-mails yesterday? I feel like such a throwback. Not “yabba-dabba-do” throwback but close.

Anywho…I have also been stressing lots lately in light of gaining some pounds back. I think constantly about what I’ve been eating – “should I have this?” and “can I have that?”, particularly if I am out with friends. Grrrrr. It’s all about choices, I know. But sometimes those choices seem constant and the constant bombardment of them gets my mind into a frazzled “I’m really sick of this” state.  I am human, and I get sick of having to walk away from the stuff I know is bad and calorie-filled but tastes so damned good. I love me my beef fried rice, my strawberry ice-cream, a really nasty burger and my ice-cold Coca-Cola. I start wishing I could eat like Albert Brooks and Meryl Streep did in “Defending Your Life,” with no consequence at all to the waistline or weight. I just get fed up, tired and my brain starts meltdown with all the thoughts running through it.

So I guess starting my mind with a blank slate today is kind of good. My mind is cleared like the clouds that cleared away to reveal the sun here in southern New Jersey. And with this clearer mind I can focus on tasks and choices as they come up instead of worrying about a ton of things at one time before they are even presented – like worrying about what to eat, when and where.  Do you guys obsess about eating like this? It may not happen often but it does for me on occasion.

Thankfully. My mind is clear as a bell this morning. A liberty Bell that is…

Maybe it was all that Coke I was drinking?

Ah! It’s a beautiful morning. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and there’s a crisp breeze in the air.

It’s day two of my detox from Coke and I am doing OK. I even did OK when I went to the store to pick up a few things. I know some of you know this but certain aisles just call to you in the store. For me, it’s the beverage aisle (of course), followed by the sweets/snacks aisle (you know, like Hostess Cakes and such). When I was a kid it was the cereal aisle, mainly because most cereals back then had movie tie-in toys or promotions and I have always ALWAYS been about the movie “biz” even back then. Hell, I didn’t even have to like the cereal (i.e. Coco Puffs), I just wanted the toy, poster or proof of purchase.

Anyhow, I was walking towards the checkout counter and I realized I was walking through the soft drink aisle. Yikes! The mother of all temptations. But I was cool and collected. I was enjoying my newly-found sobriety and life is all about choices (as that wonderful voice keeps reminding me inside my head). So I started walking through and noticed they had these mini Coke cans. Now I had seen the 100-calorie Coke cans before but these were slender (good marketing ploy on their part) and were only 90 calories per can. But I held firm and said “nope. Not gonna do it.” It was then I discovered, or should I say re-discovered, a really good alternative – TAB.

Yeah. That’s right. TAB. Good old TAB, from like the 70s. Tab, in the pink can with lettering that looked like they called up the same graphic designer from “American Bandstand” and said “hey, I wanna use that font” TAB. And I like TAB. Wanna make something of it (he asks in a somewhat defensive manly voice)?

I hadn’t had a TAB in years. Not since my days at working at 680 North Lake Shore Drive in Chicago. Why do I remember that? Because inside that building was it’s own veritable small town community – a dry cleaners, video store (remember those?), drug store, florist (!?), travel agent. Hell, they even had their own hair salon and grocery store. And I can tell you that residents and us workers really appreciated that Treasure Island grocery store, especially in the dead of winter or heat of summer so we didn’t have to go outside.

Inside this store was almost everything you could imagine (they catered to an eclectic mix of people) including TAB. The last time I bought one had to be around 2004, and even back then I was surprised they still made it. I had always liked TAB as a diet soft drink as opposed to other diet drinks like Diet Coke (ironic that I can’t stand that and LOVE regular Coke products). And it was in the days before Coke Zero (or Coke Cherry Zero, my fave). TAB was crisp and tasty and for me was like V-8 Juice. Every now and then I could have one. Other times, I could take or leave it.

So, as I was in the store yesterday I bought a six pack of TAB in the manliest way possible. By just strolling with a confident swagger up to the checkout counter and buying it, along with my fruit, cream for coffee and small selection of lunch meat. No one looked twice at me, mainly because I think no one expects TAB to still exist. And I took my TAB home knowing it was the one soft drink I didn’t crave but also knowing it was a good soft drink alternative to regular Coke.

So there it is. I have beaten back (at least for now) the “need” for Coke and I start today with that sun on my face clean and sober. I swear to you it really does feel like I’ve gone straight or gotten clean from my addiction, and I will have my TAB but not have an overwhelming craving for it. But with friends coming in from out of town and me playing tour guide today I am slightly worried about showing the town famous for one food in particular – cheesesteaks. And while this Chicago boy will always be loyal to his Italian Beef sandwiches a good cheesesteak hoagie every now and then can be good, too.

I just need to resist and have myself something much lighter…washed down possibly by one of my cans of ice-cold TAB.

Yeah. I said TAB. THAT TAB. Wanna make something of it (he now asks with a smile)?

Sometimes I feel like such an addict. It starts with my thoughts wandering toward my addiction. I’m just going about my business and all of a sudden those thoughts start their evil takeover. How nice a small taste might be. Then, out of nowhere it goes from being just a thought to a powerful taste that begins in my mouth before running to and infecting my brain. When it gets there, it’s all over. That’s when my mind starts playing tricks on me, helping my conscious justify having my addiction and lying to me saying “if we just have this one it’ll be the last time.” The phrase “I can quit any time I want” comes to mind. It’s so bad sometimes I feel like dressing up in a trenchcoat, brimmed hat and sunglasses just to “score.”

Now I have been lucky in my life that my tastes, my addictions, do not run to illegal drugs, or alcohol or gambling. No, they run in a different direction. One that promises to thwart any weight loss journey if done to extremes – My friends, my name is Bill and I’m a Coca-holic.

I know I’ve spoken about this before but those of you who know me know I have this “thing” for ice-cold Coca-Cola. I don’t know what it is but I do and lately it has gotten so bad I think the Coke delivery people are wondering why they have to refill the Coke section of the local Wawa so much in my part of town.  And if I have one I get that rush of immediate satisfaction followed closely by “ok, I just want one more…”

See, I am an addict.

Don’t you guys get that craving for that one something? That “thing” of yours you can’t resist? Ice-cream, doughnuts, candy bars, potato chips, hot dogs or Chinese food (that’s another addiction of mine, too, but one that’s way more controllable since the Chinese food here isn’t as good as it is back home in Chicago). It doesn’t matter. EVERYONE has an addiction to some type of food. I can’t be alone in this. Am I?

And what makes it worse if that my addiction goes part-and-parcel with weight gain, and I have struggled so hard to keep this stupid weight off and will be working on that for the rest of my life.  I talk about driving “the gauntlet” all the time (Wendy’s little red-haired girl, McDonald’s clown, Burger King’s, well, king, and Kentucky Fried Chicken’s colonel), but nothing will stop me more in my tracks than a 20-ounce bottle of “the good stuff.”

Jeez! Thank God I don’t crave anything else addictive.

Yesterday was a good day. I didn’t have a single Coke and I feel fairly strong today that I will not have one, kind of like going through detox and coming out the other side clean and sober. Part of that is from that wonderful voice in my head saying there are a million reasons to do bad/dumb/unhealthy things. But everything is a choice and, at some point, you chose to move in a healthier direction. It’s not perfect, and if I fail today it doesn’t mean I’ll fail tomorrow.  I do just keep moving in a good direction while also trying not to eat crap, too. And I so try to ignore the cravings, the call of the impulse buy coolers next to the checkout counters. Yesterday I succeeded and I plan to succeed again today.

Yesterday I spoke of light bulbs going on in our head that help us deal with our weight issues. I talked about how mine went on and that’s when I decided to lose weight. But food addictions can easily knock those lights out again. We (and I) just have to find ways to control them, and I have to find ways to walk away from the Coke. Find a way to turn the light bulb back on by developing a new set of Coke-coping skills. That is a food person’s “rehab.” My Coke rehab.

Coke ain’t a bad thing, and I do try to have it, as well as my other favorite foods, in moderation. It’s just been getting bad lately, hence my weight gain. But the sun is out today and I feel “clean.” I like that “clean” feeling very much, as if the syrup is drained from my veins and blood is flowing strong and free again. My scale also showed me good news today and I so love that feeling, too.

And like any recovering addict I will just take this one day at a time. Oh great, now the theme song from the old 70’s TV show is running through my head. That’s enough to kill the taste for anything from anyone’s mouth.

I few days ago I wrote a blog entry called “I wish I could have done more to help…” in which a friend of mine, Marney, and the rest of her group are at a time in another friend, Elle’s, life when they can help Elle. At least try their best to intervene and save Elle’s life, not worrying whether or not Elle will be mad but instead worrying that Elle will be dead.

In this blog I arrogantly said that if you know someone who is risking their lives with a behavior you (AND THEY) know is bad, to say something. It shows you care. It shows you give a damn. It shows you want them around for years and decades to come. It actually might help make a difference. Tough love is still love and, in most cases, is the love that is NEEDED even though it’s not necessarily love that’s WANTED.

Today I have to say something that, if you know me, I always say when I truly feel it. I was wrong. It was arrogant of me to say those things and I feel I have to explain where they came from. My mama, JoAnn Larson, before she died has a circulatory condition which allowed sores/ulcers to develop on her legs. And because of her diabetes she developed a condition called diabetic neuropathy, a condition in which your limbs slowly stop working because blood sugars are so high. I love my mom dearly but she never fully took care of herself. I did my absolute best to take as much case as I could but, in the end, it was up to her. As I write this to you guys I sit with a photo of my mom next to me because I miss her with all my heart and soul, but I also still wonder (and will for the rest of my life) what disconnect there was in her brain that allowed her to NOT take care of herself. It had been that way for years and I just wished I could have fixed it…as her son. As her only and loving son.

Recently I was approached and very much reminded of a few things. Any journey, especially a weight loss journey, is not one someone else can force on someone and have it succeed.  That while I had that light bulb turn on I WAS THE ONE WHO MADE IT TURN ON. Also, that if someone had said something I would have taken it to heart but I honestly don’t know if it would have flicked that switch to that bulb or not – which is something I will now never know completely because I am on the other end of things now where it is much easier to talk about weight and weight loss.

Yes, friends need to speak up and voice a concern, but when doing so absolutely must give the one to whom the concern is expressed the power to say “thank you, but I don’t want to talk about it. I note your concern but it’s my thing to deal with.” Also, friends can speak up but must expect they can’t expect it to be that switch which will work to turn on someone else’s light bulb. Now, hopefully, in a very private one-on-one conversation a friend like Marney can talk to Elle and hopefully have Elle be receptive to BOTH the message and concern/feelings behind it. Hopefully, it will be the thing which makes them say “yes, I am a crossroads with my health/weight and it needs to change but I don’t know how. Help me.” But what I never took into consideration is the feeling of the person being told. As much as my intentions were pure in wanting to help I made it sound like I assumed the overweight person NEEDED that intervention. NEEDED a friend to bring this out. NEEDED to highlight this situation. And that is not the case. It is not needed and, in some cases, never wanted (particularly if those who bring it up do it in an insulting, demeaning, hurtful and non-tactful way).

In Elle’s case, she is seeing a doctor for her leg sores/ulcers for which no actual cause is known. And while her weight may be contributing to them being bad she knows they are bad enough to have to see a doctor for them. And she is. Which means she knows, or at least is hearing, that her weight is a problem. She knows. Enough said.

Weight loss and maintenance is a struggle and is very much fighting a battle, and a battle we will fight everyday of the rest of our lives. But an overweight person, no matter whether they have health concerns stemming from it or not, has to WANT to do it for them and not have their friends keep pointing it out. That could lead to isolation, depression, anger and yes, fear. No one likes to be singled out for anything, and as I have said saying “I am trying to lose weight” is sometimes the hardest thing a person can do. But the individual needs to reach that time, that epiphany, themselves. Because if they don’t it will not succeed.  You may lose the weight but you will not make that lifestyle change which is needed to maintain it because it’s being done for others and not for the self.

Now I will say this. There is always a responsibility we carry for our own health and well-being. That never changes. We are accountable for our own actions. Much like my sweet mama, if you do not change, no matter who is helping, things may get worse and that is our responsibility to bear. If friends and family express concern and nothing happens we, as those concerned, have the right to say not “I told you so,” but say gently “I will support you and help you now but you can’t cry about what’s happened before. We can only work on what is and not what could have been.” That is the tough love that is right, but only after the person to whom concern is expressed makes their choices regarding their health and weight.

There is one more thing I have to say. I do not honestly know how I would have reacted when I was 400 pounds if my friend(s) came to me and said “Bill, I have a concern and it’s about your weight.” In these last couple of days I have been soul-searching to find that answer. I had to reach such a place in my soul to remember my former self, that 400 pound man, and remember how it felt when anyone addressed weight, even if it was just a generic conversation or about someone else. I felt nervous and embarrassed. I didn’t want to the conversation to turn toward me and my weight problem. I would have done anything to change the conversation and deflect. However, if someone did come to me in a gentle, caring way I would have been receptive to their concern but I honestly don’t know if I would have acted on it. I, being me, would have loved my friends for saying something but, even though I am a strong person and can usually face anything, I don’t know if the former me before 2005 (my epiphany me) would have done anything – just ran away, cried and ate some more to dull the pain and shame. I believe our friends, our true friends, are wonderful because unlike a lot of the world they see us and love us for who we are. It is so dreadfully important that friends, even well-intentioned ones like my friend, Marney, NOT make someone feel embarrassed or isolated with comments. Just let her know what they always do – how wonderful she is but also that they are worried about her. And most importantly, no matter what, they love and support her. I have seen all my “before” pictures and videos, but as I was so wonderfully reminded, when I was open enough with myself is when I allowed myself to actually see the me in them. And I absolutely must be thankful for what has happened to me since being in this new place (South Jersey and Philly) that has allowed me to find the strength to be healthier and change my lifestyle (despite a few Coca-Colas and stupid meal choices here and there) for the best and for the rest of my life.

The reasons that switch turns on are too personal and are so different for each individual. In 2005 I woke up one morning and finally decided that being 400 pounds was something I didn’t want anymore and I decided I loved me enough to begin losing that first ten pounds. I am so sorry I didn’t remember this when I wrote my “I wish I could have done more to help…” blog. It is OK to say something, yes.  A friend’s intervention may just be that something that throws that switch for Elle (or me, or anyone), but it may not and Marney must be cautious as to how she puts that out there. Because if you don’t give the other person power to say “stop” then the one thing you don’t want to happen will be the one thing that will happen…they will run away and might never EVER come back.