Determined To Succeed

My friends, happy weekend and day one-hundred-sixteen!

I first of all have to apologize to all of you for not writing a blog on Wednesday of this past week. You see, I was not well at all and had to take this week off in order to recoup. It was so bad doctors were called (I have been diagnosed with diverticulosis) and everything, including this weight loss blog, had to be put aside for a bit so I could properly recover.

While I am on the mend and feeling a helluva lot better than I have this past week (as you’ve read – it was the cause of my serious dizziness), I am troubled. Not just because this is a crappy way to ring-in this holiday season AND my upcoming 40th birthday) I now have to modify my diet to include and/or exclude certain foods. Even some foods I love (corn, nuts, popcorn and – egads! – strawberries, among others) have to be seriously curtailed because, it seems, they aggravate the condition. This sucks! I love my strawberries (and strawberry ice-cream), nuts and corn! Bah! I am troubled because, for the first time in my weight loss journey, I now have to officially modify my diet.

As you all know I lost weight not using any kind of specific food regimen. I still ate what I wanted when I wanted it. I simply cut back (as much as I could) on the portions. I still ate Chinese food, drank regular Coca-Cola and had Milky Way bars. However, those things became treats. I also exercised as much as I could, too (the two do go hand-in-hand). But now I have to make food choices based on medicine and science and I don’t want it to seem like I am changing my tune in this whole thing.

I am not giving up the foods I described (and there are more) because they are part of some secret society, new wave diet plan-of-the-stars. It doesn’t have a flashy name like Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig. It is simply diverticulosis, a condition that, believe-you-me, you don’t want to have and not just because of the food restrictions.

On the plus side, diverticulosis does have a few decent things in store for my menu – eating more whole grains, leafy green vegetables, and fruits. See, not so bad, especially since we all should be doing that anyway. About that, I am excited. I am also excited about the final thing actually used to combat diverticulosis, exercise. It helps the condition by aiding digestion. Again something we should all be doing anyway.

I hate to drop this kind of blog on you guys like this but I had to explain what is going on (I did always promise to let you know the ups and downs, after all). I just wanted you to know I hadn’t given in and jumped into a program of some sort (not that it is wrong to do so or that people who do it are wrong – in fact, if it works for you go and run with it and more power to you if it helps). My way works for me. It has already and will for the rest of my life. I also wanted to let you guys know I am taking a vacation from writing until December 13, 2011. On that date I hope to be rested, as fully recovered as I can be and ready to share my list of 40 things I want to do in my 40^th year.

As we enter the fever of the holiday season (and I wish all people of all faiths good tidings and well wishes this season) remember to be as strong as you can. I know I will. It may be a crappy way, as I said earlier, to celebrate tidings of comfort and joy but I am happy to just be here. As soon as I am physically able again I’m going to work out so I can get back to that always-mentioned goal weight of mine. Most importantly keep in mind the blessings we have in our lives. I know I will, including the gift of being able to have a medical problem diagnosed before it got me to a far worse health state. All I will say is “whew, that was a close one” and leave it at that.

Have a great week-and-a-half, my friends. I will be bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and ever-so-slightly older when next we meet on these pages. Until then, know I appreciate you all and that I am right there with you in this battle to lose weight. As cheesy as it will sound I, too, am DETERMINED TO SUCCEED.

Day ninety-five.

Why the hell are mashed potatoes so damned good? I mean, they are only boiled potatoes, some milk (or creamy salad dressing like garlic or ranch), butter and salt. That’s all. Not very complicated at all, but then again many masterpieces are simple especially with food. And damned if that particular comination, while awesome, is also deadly. Deadly in terms of not being able to exercise portion control, deadly in terms of calories and deadly in terms of putting you in a straight-up food coma like it did for me last night.

There I was last night, minding my own business, having a fist-sized portion of meat loaf (just the right size) and delicious peas and there they were, staring at me from their Corning Ware fortress planning their attack. There they sat just waiting for me to come to them because they knew I would. Their allies, butter and salt were waiting on either flank to close in on the attack. I fell for it and they sprang into action. I added a big heaping deliciously warm lot to my plate and added butter (well, I added “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter”) and salt. Oooooooooh, damn, were they delicious. But I shouldn’t have had that second helping…no matter how fun it is to eat mashed potatoes with peas. Ugh.

I am so damn lucky today because I only went up in my weight three ounces. I am at 239.7 and I must – MUST – get my ass to the gym today to workout before a couple of appointments this afternoon. For breakfast I had two small cinnamon rolls from Pillsbury (slightly stale) and I’m raring to go. But lurking in the refrigerator, gathering its forces for the inevitable attack is the dish of mashed potatoes, cold and dormant but waiting for the chance to be reheated.

Was all of that just a stupid, overly-dramatic way to say I shouldn’t have had two helpings of mashed potatoes last night because I ate too much and I fell asleep on my couch? Yes. But is it how I feel about some foods I am doing my best to control? Yes.

There are times in every food addict’s life when we all know and recognize what foods are danger foods. I have been doing great at ignoring and passing up the Chinese food lately. Not since that binge last month have I even looked at Chinese food, and I have been shopping and cooking at home consistently. It’s just that anything potato-ey is yummy goodness and I have to do my best to watch that, too. I may be eating at home but I can still set myself up for failure if I make things that are bad for me AND have them in unhealthy portions.

Today I am set in my ways and will be better. In fact the next time I write you I will have exercised AND eaten light, and that is the only deadly combination I want to face today, because it is on the good side of things. My side.

Day fifty-three (and day two of my cold).

Hey there, everybody. I am in day two of my cold. Ugh again, although not as ugh-y as yesterday. My brain still feels two sizes too big for my cranium and my eyes feel like bloated pin cushions. Other than those things, and my general lack of all things even minutely related to energy, I am doing OK. But I ate like absolute crap yesterday, though. I guess I did what I was supposed to do, meaning eating to “feed a cold,” but I hate that often when we get sick we eat what sounds good instead of what is good.

I started out the day doing so-so. I re-heated some beef fried rice and part of a leftover egg roll. Mmmmmm, the breakfast of champions. Then, as the day progressed (and my dosage of Tylenol increased) I ate a can of Hormel chili. It was hot and good and felt even better on my aching throat. But then the inspiration hit me (and my taste buds). Strawberry ice-cream. Man, not only did it sound good but it’s what I couldn’t stop thinking about all yesterday afternoon. Damnit…

I did my best to resist but it was just too much. So, I finally took a (much-needed) shower and headed to the store. I was lucky my ice-cream was in stock and I took it despite the absolutely insane convenience store price. Sigh. I got back home and slowly devoured it, allowing chunks of the frozen goodness to coat my throat on the way down. Man, I wish they could bottle that. I would have bought that instead.

Later on, I ended up having my throat go back into hurting mode so I had some hot and sour soup and a couple of egg rolls and, yes, another delicious pint of strawberry ice-cream. In no way, shape or form the healthiest meal on the planet. Shit, far from it. But two important things. One, it sounded good and when you are sick you should eat what sounds good. Two, the hot and peppery taste of the soup helped my throat, as did the ice cold goodness of the ice-cream. So can I write off ice-cream and Chinese food for “medicinal purposes on my taxes?” Hmmmmmm… And that was my night, laying on the couch flipping through channels watching bits of this and chunks of that. And you bloody-well know you’re sick when you even tune in to about 45 minutes of a movie on Lifetime. LIFETIME!!!!! Man, I must have had a fever.

Today I am up two-and-a-half pounds but that’s O.K. I will work it off (sigh) again. The best thing I can do right now if get my energy levels going again so I can fight this stupid thing we call the common cold. Also, since I feel a bit better, I’m going to eat healthier today and have salads and maybe soup since I am not quite yet up to exercising strength yet. This way I am not eating crap and at least doing better in one area so that by tomorrow (hopefully) I can get back to getting pumped to sweat and have a great workout…

…until then, there is this marvelous invention called a comfy couch and I am going to make the best use of it and the next best invention, the remote control. And even though my head still feels puffy I promise I will skip over Lifetime. And O.K., Lifetime’s movies aren’t all that bad. Hell, the crap they make for Syfy is horrible sometimes. But still, if I can’t find a decent movie on-air or on-demand then I should just go to bed, the best invention of all, and sleep. Have a great (and hopefully healthier) day.

Day fifty-one.

This morning I am thinking about demons. Demons that seem unstoppable and invincible. Demons that, no matter what, can stand up to even time itself, the supposed great healer of all. Well, there are some things that time doesn’t take away, like pain. For example, it’s been almost a year and four months already since my mom, JoAnn Larson, passed away and I still feel that moment as if it were yesterday. I still feel the absence of her on this earth and, from what I hear from others who’ve lost parents, always will. Sure, time takes away some of the immediate sting but it never takes away the memory of the pain itself, and oh, how I wish it did.

When I was a child I was so ashamed of how I was living the shame became a tangible thing I touched every day. I felt my surroundings not only around me but inside me. I became saturated by the sights, sounds and smells of where I was living. I felt the roaches crawl on my skin. I could almost feel the gritty dirt on the faded light green of the walls. I smelled the accumulated smells in the carpet in the long hallway of my apartment building floor as the building passed into decrepit oblivion – the dust, garbage, people, old food, must and rodents all part of a gigantic trap from which I felt no release. Hell, I am also quite sure I went to school smelling of old cigarettes, since my mother loved unfiltered Pall Malls and we did live in one very small room. To this day I cannot stand the smell of old cigarette smoke which does get everywhere instantly no matter what a smoker might tell you to the contrary. That is a pain from which I have been removed for more than twenty years but which still helped define me, both in good ways and bad.

The pain and shame of that place, combined with burying that pain and numbing it with X, Y and Z helped to create an addict, one that became seriously addicted to food as part of a cycle that led me to my life’s rock bottom. Then, lump on other unhappinesses, disappointments, anger, the inability to express myself, job stress, relationship bullshit and more and, over the years, the pain and shame became sentient, a living breathing demon who still inhabits parts of my brain and soul.

When you train yourself to numb things it is very hard to not numb them anymore. Food tastes good. I love good Chinese food (notice I said GOOD Chinese food, like Chicago good not Jersey/Philly so-so), I love sweet rolls (good bakery sweet rolls like my mom and I used to get on Sundays to eat while reading the paper), I love ice-cold Coca-Colas which at one point were bottles of ice-cold Pepsi, I love mashed potatoes, fried things, chocolate things, buttery things, Italian Beefs, cheesesteaks, french fries…I love it all. But I was “using,” using all that and more to numb a pain and truth which I have only recently come to grapple with and understand. Once I did that I was truly able to see food and other things weren’t enjoyable, they were the heroin I injected into my veins to make the world and its reality go away for just a little while.

That is addiction. That is food addiction. When using what is normal, everyday, commonplace pleasurable and warping it into something that not only is bad but also feeds the demon(s) born from long days ago. That is how demons can withstand the test of time.

I am doing my absolute best to curtail these demons and live a healthier, happier life. In fact I’m gonna fight the food demon as soon as I am done posting today by working out in the gym (since it is quite rainy today in southern New Jersey). Fifty-one days is truly a blessing and one on which I intend to build a foundation of good for my life and those wonderful people in it. I won’t let them down because I won’t let myself down again. Not like that. Not ever.

Time may heal some things but it doesn’t heal others. That’s O.K., because it’s what we do with today that matters. We may not be able to change what happened before but we sure as hell can control what happens today, tomorrow and in all the tomorrows yet to come.And so far I have fifty-one of them. Of all the things I’ve collected in my lifetime, days of sobriety are what I want a treasure trove of in the future.

Day forty-four.

As you could tell from my posting yesterday I do my best to make “living amends,” meaning even if the people I have wronged in life don’t know, care, support or accept my attempts to put things right I know I am still walking and living the path to being a better, healthier and stronger man free of who and what I was before.But yesterday was a pretty rough. It’s been forty-four days and in each and every one of those days I have done my best to do at least one thing to reclaim my humanity and be my mother’s son again. Yesterday, though, I just fell apart and questioned everything, especially whether or not I was even worth it all.

No matter what your drug of choice might be, if you’re an addict you hurt people in the most acute of ways and that pain can last a lifetime. In exploring my past and trying to reconnect exactly what made me an addict and turn to my drugs, including food, I realize how ashamed I was of me even way back when I was a child. I was ashamed about how I grew up in a one-room, roach-infested apartment in an old hotel, I was ashamed I never had any money, I was ashamed I couldn’t afford new clothes and had to wear pants and shirts with holes in them and I was ashamed I didn’t have the seemingly normal life my friends seemed to have. I was so ashamed I lied about it all and that was the beginning of two things – my creation of alternate realities to suit a false image to others and my turning to food as comfort to numb and take away the pain.

Like I said last night was a rough one and sitting there thinking about it all I started to cry. I started to cry and really question whether or not I was really worthy of the chances I’ve been given in life. I sat there and wondered out loud whether or not I was doing anybody any good and whether or not the demons, dark forces and black holes that had surrounded me in life were right all along – that I was nothing, a bad person not worthy of redemption.

That’s when the oldest demon of all came for a visit. The demon of food. He came to me and put his arm around me. “There, there,” he said, “it’s going to be alright. Why don’t you just hop in the car and grab some Chinese food and we can talk about it.”

“Fuck,” I thought to myself, “Chinese does sound so good.” I thought about all the other foods that would make me feel better – cheeseburgers, Taco Bell, anything…anything to just numb the pain of what I was feeling. Anything to run away from it.

But I couldn’t run any longer. Forty-four days ago I said I wasn’t going to run and hide anymore from life, the pain or the truth and I wasn’t going to start last night. Forty-four days is how long I’ve been sober, and telling the truth about things and being honest with myself and I’m not going to start breaking that especially with food. Fuck that, and fuck all the bad thoughts I had last night. We do need to face our fears, doubts, anxieties, anger, sadness and pain but we can do that without compounding those feelings with even more shame – the shame of acting out in some way that does take us express to the people we were before.

I did, however, compromise and had some strawberry ice-cream. It was creamy, smooth and delicious. After that I was done. I was done with the cravings. Every day, every single day, I work the twelve steps in my mind and try to be a better person, whether others think it or not. But I am so lucky I am surrounded by people who do think I am worth it even I don’t necessarily believe it myself some days. That includes the spirit of my mom, JoAnn Larson, who was wise in so many wonderful ways that her brilliance astounds me to this day and always will.

I will never go back to being 400 pounds. That man was unhappy, and profoundly so, for so many reasons. However, I do have work to do. I am down a few ounces today and that is a start. Hell, I might have even cried out those ounces but they are gone and I am down slightly. I have always told you out there you are not alone and I meant it. There are times I feel beaten down, unworthy, tired, angry and defeated and I want to eat, too. I do. I sooooo do. I want to run away and drown out the noise and numb the pain with food that tastes so good. That is being human. But there is one thing on our side that keeps us sane – reason. We have the ability to reason and figure out/discover the WHYs and HOWs of things so we don’t keep doing the same shit over and over to detrimental effect to others but, most of all, to ourselves.

That is how we survive. That is how we move forward. That is how we will win.

I woke up today feeling much better. The sun was shining (still is) and the crisp morning air felt good. Most of all, I had reached day forty-four and I am lucky and blessed for that because so many people can’t and don’t even reach day one. Yes, I woke up this morning feeling better and today is dedicated to surviving, to moving forward and most of all, to winning so I can smile and reach day forty-five. Even after such a dark night of the soul I know I am worth it. We are all worth it.

PS: I had a low-fat blueberry muffin and coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts for breakfast. Funny how feeling good keeps you from going to the drive-thru at McDonald’s.

Day Thirty-three.

Well, here we are again. We reached the end of another week and, as usual, my brain is toast.  Overall, it’s been a pretty good week except I am desperately trying to shed these remaining, stubborn-ass pounds. I don’t like being up in my weight but am looking forward to my martial arts workout today as I continue on my path toward better health (and a lighter weight).

There are a number of factors that have gone into my recent weight gain but ultimately what made me gain weight back was my eating, my soda drinking, my dessert eating, my snack binging and my non-portion controlling. That’s all it is, plain and simple, and I freely and willingly admit to it. I have always emotionally eaten and thanks to some good old-fashioned therapy I am finding out exactly why. Shame.

It’s amazing what we do to abuse ourselves out of shame. Some people lash out at the world while others, like me, try to hide it all and stuff it down to lock it away using things like food. Wow. I never realized how much I had packed away down there until I started opening up the boxes and seeing what there was inside.

I know I’ve told you guys about not having much money growing up, and because of that my mom and I frequently didn’t know where our next meal was coming from. But what I didn’t tell you about was the shame that caused. It caused shame because I could never have friends over to my place, and even if I did (which I would never have) I didn’t have what other homes had – video games, a VCR (yes, it was the 80’s after all) or even a color TV. I know my mom did the best for me she could and loved me very much but those things, combined with the almost constant verbal abuse spouted by kids (hey fatty, Buffalo Bill, etc.) made me just want to go hide. What it ended up doing, though, is creating someone who falsely depended on food to mask his pain and toxic shame.

Food was my solace. It was my way out and my drug of choice back then to make the world go away for a precious little while. And when it was Chinese food from my favorite place, Lung Wah Chop Suey on 53rd Street, I was in self-medicated heaven. Their egg rolls still have their taste etched onto the permanent memory of my taste buds, and the beef chop suey such a comfort that any place that serves a beef chop suey today has a special place in my heart.

That is what shame can do, and my over 400 pounds is what stuffing all that shame down with food can do.

Today is the start of the weekend and, as you regular readers know (and thank you for being out there) I worry about the weekends because I tend to let go a little more than I should. But I am so trying, especially now that I am better than I have ever been in my life, to purge the bad and dark energies and karma in my life to get to the real me again. And yes, it will be a me, in part, that is at or around 225 pounds.

I know I’ve told you all before that you can do it but I need to say today that you do need to get down to why you are really eating to do it. Are you sad, lonely, depressed, angry, upset, foolish, in denial, happy or tense? Dare I say there is an emotional reason deeply rooted in you that is causing you to act out and eat. This may all be conjecture on my part and certainly doesn’t take into account those of you out there who suffer from a medical condition that makes you gain and/or doesn’t allow you to lose weight, but I’d be willing to guess that for most of us we are masking something deep down that is the root cause of our eating.

My friends, it is time to be brave and address what is really going on inside. We spend so much of our lives trying to hide these things that we end up putting so much pressure on ourselves just to maintain the ruse. You are worth more than that, believe me, you are. And I am sure that whatever is causing you to feel shame, guilt, remorse, anger, fear, regret, all of it, once found can actually help you see why that cheeseburger doesn’t taste as good as you think it does.

In my life’s journey, and in my weight loss journey, I have discovered many things. But most of all, through trials and a helluva lot of errors, I’ve found that I am worth it as a person to be healthier and to live a long and happy life. We all need food to survive, and we should all enjoy the foods we eat because they are good and part of life’s most wonderful experiences. But food is not a drug and should never be used as one. We should not need it to be because, in the end, we must not let whatever feelings we truly have buried bury us for real.

Today is Friday, the sun is shining and it is a beautiful day. Go out and enjoy it and this amazing weekend. And if you have to work, have a multitude of errands to run or are going through something in your lives take heart. There is someone out here who understands and who understands the why and how of weight gain and loss. And who, like you, wants to truly get better about taking care of the one person we should always take care of first and foremost – ourselves.

Day seventeen.

Did you ever have one of those days when a whole bunch of stuff happens and your mind is just racing with it all? Thoughts about this here and details of that there and you just want it all to go the fuck away? Shit. It’s enough to drive you buggy (as my mom used to say). Sometimes you’d almost rather have a physically-trying day rather than a mentally-draining one, or worse yet, an emotionally-draining one. Yesterday was like that for me. I don’t know what it was, maybe the moon was out of its alignment or something, but yesterday just didn’t feel right, and that caused my brain and emotions to go into overdrive. I felt lost, nervous and scared. That is when being a food addict sucks. Everything everywhere looks and sounds good (and comforting) to eat and drink, including a nasty-ass soda called Mello Yello.

It had been a long day, and an emotionally draining one, and my old patterns of emotional eating came back and came back with a vengeance. Even though I did a workout I ordered myself up some Chinese food for dinner and, while sitting there waiting for it, I perused the soft drink case. I saw my old friend, Coke, sitting there waving “hello,” but I tried my best to ignore it casting my gaze elsewhere in the cooler. There were many other soft drinks and I tried to be good – Diet Dr. Pepper, Orange Crush, Sprite Zero and the afore-mentioned Mello Yello. I was in such a mental state yesterday I stupidly bought at least one of them all. It wasn’t until later, as I was getting ready for bed and pouring myself the last Mello Yello over ice, did I realize what I was doing.

For those of you who don’t know, Mello Yello WANTS to taste as good and as refreshing as 50/50 but ends up being a cross between Mountain Dew and Sprite (which is not a great combination). The thing that got to me most was the color of it. It looked like an irradiated greenish yellow. It looked nasty. It tasted O.K. but it looked nasty and I sat there and looked at this concoction in utter disgust.

Here’s everything that went through my mind:

“I drank that?!”

“I put that in my body?”

“I can’t believe I just did that!”

“It was awful.”

“I will never do it again.”

Ever since my catastrophic failures of a few weeks ago I look at things slightly different now. I am an addict twice-over. Being addicted to food was how I got to be 400 pounds, and I admit that part of me reverted back to that “needing food” guy last night. But what is changed is how I see what I am doing. Sometimes, you can’t see the forest through the trees. You’ve heard that phrase before, right? C’mon, everyone has. It’s a phrase that essentially means when you’re too close to something you can’t see the big picture. Before when I would eat and drink I was so in the depths of that addiction I couldn’t see the entirety of the cause and effect of it all on my body and health. I just wandered through the forest from tree to tree eating this and that, not looking at it and saying “I’m lost. Please help me.”

Since then, I at least know I am an addict and can stop running through that forest and finally scream out “I need help!” That is the first step in the twelve steps: recognizing your addiction is greater than you are. Sitting there last night looking at that putrid green/yello “soda” I just knew I needed to stop. This goo wasn’t going to calm my mind, a sense of peace was. Sitting there and getting a handle on what the day brought and how to deal with it and how I am going to deal with it in the future brought a peace that quieted my mind as well as my want for food.

At that moment I did something I am very proud of – I stopped drinking that stuff. I got up and threw the rest of it out and I know I will never drink it again. The sense of peace I am finding is helping me finally see the forest and my true path through it.  Today I have two therapy appointments and I am very much looking forward to them. And as far as food goes, I am going to get back to my good patterns, including exercising later, as I pray for today to be as mentally and emotionally peaceful as sleep. That is why these days I am not as lost, nervous or scared as I once was, because I am finally recognizing that the forest I am trying to navigate has been me all along and because of that I will find my way through. It will just take time and knowing I will need help along the way.

It’s usually not my style to be a bummer on weekends, especially since I have taken to writing just one blog to cover both Saturday and Sunday, but I learned of something rather disturbing and I wanted to share it with you.

The Chicago Sun-Times media wire has reported that a woman with a history of obesity died Thursday after collapsing at a popular eatery in Oak Lawn. Cheryl Varnado-Turner, 44, of 7259 S. Seeley Ave., collapsed at the Portillos restaurant in Oak Lawn and was pronounced dead at 5:59 p.m. Thursday, according to a Cook County Medical Examiner’s spokeswoman. Varnado-Turner has a history of obesity, the spokeswoman said. An autopsy determined Varnado-Turner died of coronary atherosclerosis and dilated cardiomyopathy, and her death was ruled natural.

I learned of this story from a dear friend of mine in Chicago and it really disturbed me on a few levels.

One – The original article didn’t list the name of the restaurant which is weird given that most stories  pull info from the police reports. I knew it was Portillos because my friend told me (she’s from that area). I’ve eaten and enjoyed many-a-meal from Portillos. It’s the place I keep telling you guys about with the delicious Italian Beef sandwiches and Chicago-style hot dogs. I’ve eaten Portillos hot dogs for years, particularly from their downtown Chicago location, and have been guilty of DUIPHD (driving under the influence of Portillos hot dogs).  Shame on the Sun-Times news wire for not saying the name of the place and for giving people enough credit to know it wasn’t their food that killed this woman (but more on that later) but her bad health.

Two – I did that kind of eating at 400 pounds and this woman’s tragic end could have been my own. It could have been me who died in this restaurant, or any restaurant, particularly the Chinese food restaurant I love. I still eat what I want but when I was that weight all it would have taken was one egg roll, hot dog, burger, Italian Beef, or stick of carrot to push me over the edge.

Three – Why is this news? The story made me mad because I doubt a story would have even been written if the woman was thin. It’s because this woman was obese and just happened to pass away in a fast food restaurant that it was news worthy, which leads me even more to think Portillos wanted to disassociate itself not from a tragedy but from obesity since so many fast food chains are feeling the backlash of the obesity epidemic in America. Again shame on the paper for not saying the name but also shame on Portillos for that disassociation.

I understand how easy it is for people, thin people in particular, to misinterpret and misunderstand this situation. I can see how they’d think it’s 100% lack of eating self control without even giving a thought to whether or not  it is sometimes the emotional side driving that eating, or a medical issue, etc.  Many people, yours truly included, don’t use tobacco, alcohol or drugs when bad things happen. We chose food. I still choose food sometimes. I am an emotional eater. It’s not that I don’t have self-control it’s that I eat when I am frustrated or scared or have anxiety. However now I try to do the right things – exercise, eat properly and recognize when I am weak.

It so could have been me.

Do not get me wrong, though. This story also disturbs me because this woman had to have known Portillos wasn’t the best choice for food. O.K., that was a nice way of saying she should have known better (if, indeed, it was just about overeating/eating bad foods and not an undisclosed health or injury problem). If you read this blog you know I firmly believe that we have a responsibility to ourselves as big people to “own the problem” we have. We are obese and we should do something about it instead of waiting for others to solve it for us. But nooooo, thanks to infomercials and other faster, quicker options we get snookered into thinking our weight issues can be solved by others and without the hard work of changing a diet for the better and exercising. It is hard work and it does take time…period.

I am sad for this woman and her family today, not just because they lost a loved one and a woman lost her life but for the ways in which this story will be interpreted. On one hand, some will say “see, she got what she deserved being that big.” And others will say “wow, I need to do something so I don’t end up like that.” And on this weekend I sincerely hope someone of size sees this story and thinks the latter and it helps save a life or two.

This way, Cheryl didn’t die in vain or as a joke like Elvis and his fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches on the toilet. People need and deserve more dignity than that.

Wow. The rain finally stopped. It was pouring down rain this morning and it was beautiful. Like the soft break in the Bob Seger song “Night Moves” goes – “I woke last night to the sound of thunder. How far off I sat and wondered…” Well, OK, it was this morning in which I woke to the sound of thunder but it was good and it was a good rain. A great rain, actually. A great cleansing one that washes away the crap and makes way for the new.

How absolutely cool that this rain comes the day after “the big reveal” to you guys. It comes after a night of having Chinese food, too. Yes, I had it again but I knew I needed it.  I embraced my desired to eat badly so I could face the emotions tied to them head on, like when Sean Connery turned the sub into the path of the oncoming torpedoes in “The Hunt for Red October.” He did it so they wouldn’t explode and sink him and I did the same.

Funny. There’s that water thing again.

I so wish the outcome of the Oprah contest had been different. But that’s O.K. That’s life, and the disappointment did trigger others thoughts and fears (and demons) and out of those I sought comfort food. Sometimes it’s how I deal with stress (like when my face breaks out – a sure sign of it). But when these things happen it means I have “bottomed out” in that situation and this one is no different.

To use with generosity a quote the Pretenders, “We are all of us in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” That is me. I am a hopeless romantic dreamer and a believer in those dreams. I am an optimist, even when mired in the crap that is usually washed away by a great rain. I just needed these last few days to absolutely lick my wounds, because that optimist saw a million ways this could have gone right, and not any the ways that it wouldn’t.

Is that bad? No. It is merely human. We all want our dreams to go well, especially when our hearts and minds are equally involved. Damn, that is so right. And I don’t know about you but when I set my mind on something look out- I usually do make it happen. Usually, although not in this case. Every now and then, life IS out of your hands and we can only control the things we have the power to control, like our reactions to things such as a rejection from what would have been a cool TV opportunity.

I emotionally eat and stress eat because I tend to throw myself out there and take chances. The food is the part I can control so I do, sometimes for the good but sometimes for the bad. And in my mind there are voices that say “dude, it could have ended up being a crappy experience.” I’ll never know, it’s a crapshoot either way. But those voices are right – this experience has only added to me as a person. I am better and more experienced for having done this. And while it’s O.K. to let me turn myself into the torpedo to keep them from really exploding, I have to remember to great stuff, too. That I got as far as I did and that is was just one single opportunity in a world filled with possibilities. Putting oneself out there may be scary but it is absolutely why optimists like to keep putting ourselves out there – those endless possibilities.

That is the beauty of rain. It washes away the old and makes everything clean and ready for the new. Last night’s Chinese food is over with and done.

Today is a new day and a blue sky is peaking through…

Last night I couldn’t get to sleep.

You know how you get when things weigh on your mind to the point where all that energy is what’s fueling you? Sort of like an old steam-powered train whose engineer is shoveling coals into the fire. Well, that’s what happened to me last night. I had been waiting for a piece of news all day…and waiting…and waiting…and waiting. And finally, when it was apparent it would never come my mind took over, threw more coals on the fire and kept us (my mind and me) up pretty late.

I know this is going to sound bad but much of why I was up had to do with Coke, also. Not to disparage the greatest soft drink (pop) in the whole world but not having it for the past few days – and subsequently having it all out of my system – meant that when I did have it yesterday all that caffeine and sugar got into my system adding more coals to my engine, heating it up and keeping the train moving.

I so wish I could figure out why I am an emotional eater/drinker. And before you start to worry not drinking in terms of booze. Drinking in terms of Coca-Cola. I wish I could figure out what triggers in the minds of big people like me makes food a viable option when it comes to those pesky demons that come for you – especially late, late into the night.

Hurmph.

If I could figure that out I’d be a rich, rich man. I’d also be back at my goal weight and then some by now. I’d not still be fighting the battle of the final ten over a year after my sweet mom died. I’d find it much easier to resist the liquid joy of an ice-cold Coke and not give in to it’s delicious yet empty calories. Oh, and if I could figure that one out I’d also figure out how to extract the unstoppable energy of a child (or find a way to activate that part of an adult brain) so I could add that to the mix. Then I’d be super-duper rich. Like Bill Gates or Warren Buffet rich. No more emotional eating combined with limitless energy? Shit. That would be awesome.

But as my man, Jules, in “Pulp Fiction” says “that shit ain’t the truth,” and there is no such thing as abundant adult energy and there is a such thing as emotional eating. And while I can’t just yet share with you guys the exact reason for this sort of morose weekend blog post please know I take this feeling for what it is – a set of rain clouds that have gathered up in my mind causing it to rain, just like it is today here in southern New Jersey. But like all rain, it will pass and the day will be sunny again (and hopefully not as freaking hot as it has been this past week – when 90 degrees is “cool,” look out).

As for my workout yesterday I did great. I did almost all of what my sensei taught me (although somehow the stretches seem to work better when doing them in class) and I worked up quite a sweat yesterday. And I plan to do the same today in the rescheduled class. Although working out with others is a new aspect of things so I hope I don’t embarrass myself too much in front of others.

Well, that’s all for now. Sorry it couldn’t be a bit more cheery but all will be revealed on Monday. Promise. Until then I will make sure I work out and NOT eat my weight in Chinese food, Milky Way bars and Cokes. After all, the good thing about staying up until all hours of the night thinking about stuff is that all the food places are closed.

See, in every cloud – even rainy ones – there is a silver lining.