Determined To Succeed

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.

How many of you went to your 20-year high school reunion? Show of hands…anyone…anyone…Bueller…Bueller… Two years ago in August was my 20th anniversary of graduating high school and I didn’t go primarily because, one, it was expensive, and two, because of Facebook. Yes, that nifty little thing called Facebook connected me with so many wonderful people from those days I thought it would be unnecessary to attend.

Well, that was then and this is now.

Recently I learned that good ‘ol Kenwood Academy was hosting an all-class 40-year reunion today, actually held at the school. You know, just like in the movies. In “Superman III,” “Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion,” “Zack and Miri,” and so many more the heroes go back to their respective high schools and the wackiness ensued from there. I always secretly thought that was cool since I was nerdy enough to like certain aspects of my schooling particularly the bricks and mortar that made up my “homes away from home.”

So it was with (mild) reckless abandon that I quickly packed a bag and headed to Chicago today to attend tonight’s festivities. Another thing that is making me happy is the fact that the monies collected actually go to programs at the school, not some cheesy banquet hall, hotel or other facility (and it’s cheaper – God, I am getting old).

Now as you guys know, Chicago food hits you as soon as you get off the plane, but I was good and avoided the temptations of my sweet home Chicago Chicago-style hot dogs (and no offense intended toward my friends in and around Philly. Hot dogs, Italian Beef sandwiches, pizza and Chinese food is all different – and better – here, like when you guys get a cheesesteak from your favorite places). However, I didn’t avoid that temptation for long and had a couple, with everything, fries and (sigh) a Coke.

But it was goooooooooooood!

OK, with the craving for hot dogs out of my system I have to both go for a workout today AND avoid over-indulgence. The latter shouldn’t be too hard, although I do want to eat before I get to the reunion which is tonight because I need to avoid the sweet food temptations of my old neighborhood (Harold’s Chicken or Valois anyone?) as well as the foods being served at the reunion, itself. While I am sure the food will be good, I get in trouble with all-you-could-eat situations like that and want to avoid that if I can.

So where is the middle ground?

Middle ground (and I don’t know why but Middle Earth somehow came to my mind – my PRECIOUS!!!) comes in the form of egg rolls from my favorite place in the world right now for Chinese food. It’s on Michigan Avenue downtown called Sixty-Five Seafood and they have egg rolls, bbq pork noodles, kung pao chicken and pepper steak to die for. They are PRECIOUS!!!!

This means I will be swinging by there later today for a combination late lunch/grab some hometown egg rolls/stave off the other bad foods run. I am so looking forward to it. Then I will be off to the reunion.

I am feeling a bit goofy today. I feel younger. I think about so many things from those many long-put-away days from 1984 – 1988 especially food, when I ate whatever I wanted seemingly without consequence. I think about what I wanted to do in life. I think about where I’d thought I’d be…

…I think about my mom, JoAnn (and you can bet your bottom dollar I will be swinging by the park where I spread her ashes to say HI).

Most of all I think about time and how precious (no reference intended…this time) a gift it is. I may be slightly more than two decades removed from gym period, english class, history, driver’s ed, biology and (ick), trigonometry, but I nowe have a grasp on one thing I didn’t back then – myself and how I eat. I want to be around for a good, long time and losing the weight I did has dramatically helped me prolong my life. It helped me not goive into the self-fulling prophecies of obesity – poor quality of life, immobility and potential sudden medical “episodes” like strokes and heart attacks. It also helped me become more active so I can enjoy things I never could before – like even sitting on a plane, in the middle seat (it was what was available) and not have to worry if I’d be making people uncomfortable on either side, and dancing and bopping to my favorite 80s songs from time to time (I hope they play some tonight).

That is why I am no longer worried about food when I come home. Sure it’s better (it’s always better in your hometown) but nothing – NOTHING – is better than the taste of adding years and quality to your own life.

Now, bring on that reunion and let’s “Wang Chung” tonight, and I will tell Clark Kent, Romy and Michelle, Zack, Miri and Ferris you say HI.

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.

Good morning, everyone.

I am sitting in my hotel room before heading out to join the Black Enterprise Entrepreneur Conference & Expo here in Atlanta. I didn’t mean to sleep so late but I needed it after my long travel and registration day yesterday.

OK, I know what you’re saying. “Bill, so did you get your Chicago-style hot dog in the airport?” Well, I can honestly say no, I didn’t. But there’s a part of me that thinks I should have. Let me explain.

When I travel it is so easy for me to grab fast food, which I define as food you can grab and eat using one hand – a hot dog, burger, taco. You get the picture and I so didn’t want to do that. So, before I left home I had some assorted fruit and coffee (mmmmm, coffee) and started my day.

I was OK until I hit Chicago, then it was like the fast food gods were conspiring the get me to eat. Eat. EAT! You’ve heard me talk about how the hot dog cart hits you as soon as you get off the plane, right? Well, that was there and was avoided. However I didn’t know there was an Italian Beef cart, too. Oh man! That wasn’t fair. But, I resisted. Yes, I survived both and made my way to my connecting gate.

Along the way, though, I not only passed a couple of McDonald’s stations but so many peple carrying McDonald’s yummy good breakfasts I thought I was inhaling crack. I haven’t been to McDonald’s in years and the thought of a breakfast sandwich (with that awesome sausage they have) and a hash brown would hit the spot.

It would hit the spot alright. My ass. Actually. The sausage sandwich would hit my butt while the has browns ensconced themselves in my belly fat. So I resisted that, too. I was doing well. So well, in fact, I didn’t eat anything else all day, and that is not a good thing. I got to Atlkanta, checked in to both the conference and the hotel and was beside myself with hunger. Again, not good.

So what DID I eat yesterday? I ordered room service. I ordered an awesome tomato soup, chicken quesadilla and, yes, an order of spicy dinner grits. However, you wil be proud – I didn’t order a Coke. I was good. Well, sort of. You’d have thought I was a Hoover vacuum cleaner the way I absorbed all that dinner, which really could have NOT included at least one of those items. That will cause me to grumble ever so slightly.

Grrr (but not a long sustained grrrrrrrrrrrr).

There was one point though I laughed out loud – my room has an electronic scale, which is awesome. And since all scales read dfferently I will go by number of pounds gained or lost this trip. Today, I weigh the same as yesterday, which I suppose is a good thing.

I need to eat smarter today. As I get ready to attend today’s activities I will keep last night’s dinner (and my scale in mind). Eating smartly – not just eating the right things – is all part of the equation.

I am a bit grumpy this morning. I am grumpy this morning because I am sick and tired of food – ALL FOOD – having stupid calories, and because genies in lamps don’t really exist.

I know this sounds completely insane but I always wonder in my heart and soul why everything we want to eat has to be “worked off” and “no good for us.” Why is it that Chinese food (yes, my dinner of choice last night) has to have not just calories but so much salt that it causes me to creep to another three more ounces this morning (hence part of my grumpyness).  I know it was “no good for me” and that I will “work it off,” but still. Can’t a guy have his beef chop suey after a workout and NOT have to still gain back ounces? Grrrrrrr.

And why can’t genies exist? These are so the times I wish I could find a genie in a lamp. I daydream about casually strolling the beach down in Atlantic City (after winning a few bucks at Craps, my favorite game) and stumbling across a beautiful, ornate golden lamp. I start brushing the sand off its surface when a cool-ass genie appears and says to me, “Dude. Wow. Thanks for finding me! You know how long I’ve been cooped up in coach in that thing? Where’s the baggage claim anyway? Oh, never mind. Since you found me and I have finally landed I will offer you three wishes as gratitude. The only condition is that you chuck me and the lamp back in the ocean when you’re done so that others may share your good fortune. And PS, show me where the Craps tables are, man. I’ve been itchin’ for some games of chance since that bazaar in Morocco 400 years ago.”

If only I could really have those three wishes. Besides the obvious one featuring lots of  money and one I would keep in my back pocket for another day, I think I would wish for me to never gain weight ever again from any food stuff ever in the history of the entire universe. That would include never gaining weight from any of the following yummy, delicious “no good for us” foods you have to “work off:”

• Cinnabon cinnamon rolls
• The afore-mentioned Chinese food (damn it all to hell – stupid ounces – grrrrrr)
• Hostess Cupcakes (don’t worry, I didn’t have any last night. Just thought about them, that’s all)
• Italian Beef  sandwiches
• Chicago-style hot dogs
• Cheesestea)k hoagies
• Alcohol (not that I am a beer drinker. I’m talking about my martinis and frosty, fruity island drinks you get with little umbrellas and s&^t)
• French fries (especially the big beefsteak or potato wedge kind)
• Strawberry ice-cream (again, don’t worry I didn’t have any last night
• Banana cream pie
• Chocolate cake and/or cupcakes (mmmmm, cupcakes – said like Homer Simpson drooling out the side of his mouth)
• Indian food (especially chicken tikka masala)
• Stuffed pizza (or any pizza for that matter)
• Buffalo wings
• Mashed potatoes (come to think of it the entirety of Thanksgiving dinner – including any and all leftovers)
• A plate of Southern food (fried chicken, a mess of greens and some kind of starch like grits)

Ok, Ok. I’ll stop now but you get my grumpy point this morning. Each one of us has foods we love but that are extremely bad for us. Just yesterday I was talking with people who felt bad for having a small box of Cheez-Its or a couple of cookies. But why should they feel bad? We like these foods, they just don’t like us back. Yeah, I would so use a wish and change all that.

Well, maybe I would. There is that world peace thing to consider, and all. It just “grinds my gears” – no wait, I used that slogan for a blog already. It just makes me grumpy we always have to pay the stupid “a moment on the lips, an eternity on the hips” price for the foods we enjoy most. And on grey, cloudy and rainy days like this perfectly suited for comfort foods and movies I don’t want to worry about the calories they leave behind.

Well, that’s OK. We can’t appreciate the destination without fully respecting the journey…

…every yummy, calorie-rich, has to be “worked off,” “no good for you” step of it.

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.