Riddle Me This

What kind of jack-ass gains 15 pounds during the first sixty days of P90X Classic?

Before 99% of you so kindly suggest I throw the scale away and use my clothing as a measuring stick, I should mention the fact that a pair of pants I have worn on a semi-regular basis not more than a month ago do not fit me. I was going to wear them to a cookout last night until I almost ripped the GD waistband off trying to pull them up over my ass. Yeah. All of the mother effin’ Crisco in the world wouldn’t be enough to fit me into those things right now.

Needless to say, it was an eye-opening experience.

I’ve always wondered how something like this could possibly happen to someone who has spent the last x-amount of time counting calories, busting ass at the gym and doing the ‘inside work’ required to lose weight consistently. I’ve always wondered how it seems so easy for some just to trade it all in for a free-pass and two-month sugar coma.

Then it happened to me.

Just goes to show that you can’t out-run, out-squat, and/or out-plyo shitty food choices. Even when you’re working out six days a week.

Making it real is the first step toward fixing it.

Shuffling the Deck

We’re camping in North Truro today since the rain has finally let up. Thank God. It was warm enough this morning to put shorts on.

They’re kind of tight.

I’m not freaking out yet.

Okay, I’m freaking out in moderation (or slightly above).

But it’s all good.

I’m getting to the bottom of it. You know how it goes. Two pounds from goal = freak out, etc., etc. I’ve been losing weight steadily for almost two years. Doing so has sort of defined me (however sad that may seem). This ‘backlash’ all very new to me, but I suppose it’s all part of the ‘game’ (whatever that means).

On the upside, I’ve been sticking to my workout schedule despite how annoying it has been to wake up ass-early during my weeklong staycation just to ‘fit’ it in. Still, one hour of exercise cannot save me from twenty-three hours of shitty eating. It’s obvious that my body is aching for normalcy and consistency, but lack of structure is making it difficult to switch gears even though I’ve wanted to vom for a week straight.

I kind of miss my salads. And my grilled chicken. And my balsamic vinegar. And my egg whites with roast beef hash and Chipotle salsa. And the energy said foods provide.

S’mores just aren’t cutting it.

A Few Things:

- My niece flew in from WA on Friday.
- It’s been a year since we last saw each other.
- She said my calves look like ‘loaves of bread’ while she watched me P90Xing on Saturday.
- She’ll watch me play hockey for the first time ever tonight (!!!).
- I should also note that I’ve been eating like a total fucking lunatic since her arrival.
- Such recklessness has begun to affect my body (lethargy, headaches, and general discomfort) and my spirit (fear, confusion, and general disconnect).
- I’m trying not to let it consume me, but not doing so is harder than I remember.

In other news, The Girl secretly snagged this video of me and The Niece getting our Ab Ripper X on. Note its crippling effects just twenty seconds in. It was quite possibly the most hilarious thing I’ve seen in a while.

Keeping It Classy

We had a BBQ today.

I drank a lot.

Like vegan Jell-o shots and other silliness.

And ate a lot.

Like chicken sausage at 2:30a while playing rummy with my darling friend Chris as we waited for the tow truck to rescue him from a flat tire. I lost. Terribly.

I never lose.

P.S. – I have to run 5.5 miles tomorrow.

And it’s 3a.

And I’m blogging from my pillow.

Normal can blow me.

Not Normal

I think I have finally gone off what most people call ‘the deep end’.

For one week, I ate what everyone else ate. I drank what everyone else drank. I thought, ‘I am doing normal things like eating without scrutinizing every fucking calorie that enters my mouth. I can get used to this!’ For the first time in a long time, I felt kind of normal.

Until I climbed on that scale.

Normal people don’t gain 5-6lbs in a week.

In fact, normal people don’t make a bee line to their computer to log what they have just eaten. Normal people don’t eat ‘according to schedule’. Normal people don’t scour over menus for an hour before heading to a restaurant. Normal people don’t spend forty-five minutes in the bread aisle pouring over every single package of hamburger rolls looking for one that doesn’t contain high fructose corn syrup. Normal people don’t stop eating their mother’s meatloaf because she doesn’t use organic hamburger. Normal people don’t medicate themselves with food after a stressful day. Or a headache. Or a car payment. Or to avoid work. Or to procrastinate while blogging. Or because they have nothing better to do. Normal people can sit still for more than five minutes without thinking it’s the end of the world. Normal people don’t look at the clock every five minutes wondering when they can eat again just to ‘pass the time’.

Normal people don’t punish themselves with food for feeling abnormal.

In the end, it’s not really about the scale or the weight, but rather the destructive and abusive behaviors that I have been experiencing ever since my failed attempt to ‘ease back into normalcy’.

It’s a lot to process. A lot.

Mother &@$%!!

Dear Self,

Why won’t you stop eating? You’re starting to freak me out.

Big time.

Kind regards,
A Concerned Citizen

And the Winner Is…

Caffeine withdrawal by a landslide.

Good thing it only took me three days of sitting on my ass and a total food-for-all to get to the bottom of It. I’m still feeling experiencing periods of absolute shittiness (I literally thought I was going to die yesterday), but I feel better knowing why giving It a name. My coffee/caffeine habits are way too sporadic for up-keep and I would be a total moron to continue ingesting random (but very concentrated) bouts of caffeine with zero intention of doing so on a constant basis.

DO NOT WANT.

In other news…

I’m repeating Week 5 of P90X after taking two (unplanned) days (full of sadness) off.

I’m eating more carbs because I like them.

And I have hockey tonight.

I will score goals.

Just the Beginning

I haven’t been feeling very rockstar-ish lately. In fact, I’m feeling pretty run down in that walking-corpse kind of way. I’m very tired, I’m experiencing headaches on a daily basis, and I feel very ‘foggy’ and ‘out of it’. I can’t seem to concentrate on anything for more than three minutes aaaand I kind of thought I was going to throw up on the train during my Monday morning commute to work.

I’ve felt this way off and on for the past few week, but I can’t really put my finger on why. All I know is that I don’t feel like my spritely self and it’s a very alien and uncomfortable feeling. Let’s consider the ‘usual’ suspects, shall we?

Am I getting sick?
I developed a cold last week, but it has since dissipated. I think.

Am I over-training and/or spreading myself too thin?
I’m always doing something. Last week was full post-work activities and a double workout in the shape of a five-mile run and an eleven-mile bike ride on Sunday (although the bike ride was pure leisure). I also worked out every single day last week and doubled up on a workout or two a few weeks ago. I never lost the bounce in my step during three months of half training so what the dilly, yo?

Am I not eating enough?
Pretty sure I just heard the scale burst into a fit of laughter. Please see below.

Am I eating too much crapola?
Sometimes I feel lethargic after eating 1/2 of a cheese pizza, but it’s been a while since I’ve done such a ridiculous thing (a month, perhaps?). I did, however, consume a ton of crap during the month of July that I otherwise wouldn’t normally consume. Items include but are not limited to: 1/2 slice of chocolate cheesecake, a juicy hamburger on a toasted Brioche roll, a handful of Heath Klondike bars, a half slice of Carvel cake, 3/4 slice of chocolate cake, a few bites of Butterscotch Bread Pudding, seven gallons of alcohol, three hamburgers during a single cookout, a pound of potato salad (OK, not a pound, but you get the idea…). Not great, but I’ve done worse in a week.

Am I eating too much protein?
I’ve been eating almost twice the amount of protein I’m used to and almost half the carbs despite some of my off-the-beaten path food choices. Historically speaking, I’ve never had much luck going ‘low carb’, and although doing so has not been my intent, I’m definitely consuming way fewer grams than I normally would (and I’ve got the post-workout-ammonia-stench to prove it). The worst part? I’m practically forcing myself to OD on the protein. Gross.

Am I showing signs of caffeine withdrawal?
I’ve been hitting the sauce pretty hard lately partly due to last weekend’s run in with Red Bull and my need to tap into external energy resources just to keep my eyes open. Otherwise, I tend to stay away from the Caffeine (truth be told: it screws with my poop shoot).

Am I not getting enough sleep?
I slept for nine glorious hours last night and try to get at least seven each night, but I’ve been cutting into my precious Sleepy Time with two-hour drives to/from The-Middle-of-Nowhere-New-Hampshire for concerts that don’t end until 11pm and a plethora of morning workouts due to post-work activities.

Do multi-vitamins really make a difference?
Something tells me I might need to take more than two vitamins a month to reap the benefits.

The problem with being incredibly out-of-touch with your body is that it’s hard to determine what your body is trying to tell you. Sure, I’ve lost a shit load of weight. I’ve jogged a half marathon, began playing ice hockey again, and am currently five weeks into the P90X Classic program, but I’m still learning how to listen to my body.

In fact, I’ve just begun.

I have a lot to say on this subject, buuuut I just got home from hockey and I smell like a wet sock.

Sexy.

In the Driver’s Seat

I woke up early this morning to get ‘Back, Shoulders, & Triceps’ done before work, but the DVD refused to play. It was all black screen and blank stares for a good ten minutes before I finally threw in the towel. I even blew into the damn thing like it was a Nintendo cartridge.

‘Ah, well. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.’

I figured my bunk DVD was the Universe’s way of throwing me a bone. Instead of working out, I fixed myself a good ‘ole cup of Joe, plucked two spongy powered donuts from the assortment I picked up from the grocery store last night after convincing myself that I have finally entered the ‘beginning of the end’ phase of my weight-loss journey, and settled on a classic episode of Spongebob to help pass the time. When I was done with my two donuts, I went back for two more.

And then two more.

Before I knew it, the box was empty.

If this is reading like something straight out of a horror movie, you’re right.

What actually happened was a lot less dramatic.

I did ‘Chest & Back’ instead.

All Hail New Habits

You know what? I stepped on the scale today after a week full of uncharacteristic food choices and it read 158.7 lbs. It was pretty offensive considering the fact that last week? I weighed in at 152.4 lbs.Really, body? I mean, I know that I’m not supposed to give a shit what the scale says, but one cannot help succumbing to a ‘WTF’ moment once in a while.

Do you know how many calories I would have actually needed to consume to gain 6 lbs of Fatty Fat McFatterson? A lot. Sure, there have been umpteen birthday celebrations. A mini slice of Carvel cake, a Klondike bar or twenty, 1/2 slice of cheesecake with a two-inch fudge crust, a damn good hamburger, a few bites of the most wonderful dessert I have ever tasted, some tasteless Mexicrap, 3/4 of a slice of chocolate cake and a few glasses of sangria, etc., but definitely not 11,500 calories per day’s worth. That’s just obscene.

I may have finally given into the Red Bull Vodka Gods this evening and I may be writing this totally sloshed, but I am present enough to know that I need to stop tweaking out just because I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone for a brief moment in time. This week has been an exception to the rule, not the culmination of my efforts. It does not and will not define me, but I can certainly see how such a jump can send anyone straight WTFsville (especially if you’re looking for some kind of validation).

Even though I ended up being covered in honey mustard by the end of tonight, at least I had the decency to order grilled chicken instead of crispy chicken. Right?