The WW’s clothes making the man

“Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.”― Mark Twain

The emperor has no clothes.  The WW has very little more options.  .  I dress like the every man. I care not for fashion or style. I just wear clothes. I reach into the closet and grab the first thing I see. At least that is what I aspire to do.

You see for someone who cares little about what he wears this WW deals a lot with his clothes. You see I can’t actually reach into my closet and grab. I have to hunt for the few shirts that fit, the pants that will actually button. The weekends bring no relief when I find I only wear workout pants (elastic waist) and less than a handful of t-shirts that won’t ride up and show some underbelly. (Go ahead…get that image out of your head.)

Dressing up is a nightmare. I am sweating by the time my shirt is buttoned (if it will at all). I find myself last minute shopping before any real event. I have so many different size suits I could open a store.

You must be thinking. Just go shopping. If only it were that simple. For starters I am a WW and have dreams of fitting into the smaller sizes in the bin on the floor of my closet. I won’t shop, I’ll just get started again watching what I eat. Recently we went on vacation and I conceded that it was time to buy some things I could be comfortable in. That’s what really got me back on plan. I couldn’t buy anything. My jean size was not available. The big and tall started one size above, the regular section stopped one size below.  I’m mostly belly so shirts are a bit of a crap shoot. Most casual shirts are single wear shrinking to the point where I can’t tuck them in. When I go to big and tall I have to buy tall even though I am 5’8″. I need the length to go over belly.  I leave every store with a single item that I hate and I go the next thing in the same comfortable outfit so over worn that my wife wants to throw it all away.

I am motivated by clothes. Not because I want to look good in them but because I want it to be easy.  When I hit my goal I found just that. Reach into the closet and grab, Go to a rack in any store and grab, in a pinch go to my teenage son’s closet and grab.  and mostly…put on a suit and button the top button without breaking a sweat.  My wife will appreciate when I get back into a size that gets me through the whole work week without laundry.

So as part of this blog I will track my clothes progress. Today I am squeezed into a 40 waist (underbelly) with a pair of 42 jeans in the drawer. All shirts are 2XL Tall. Nothing feels good on. Nothing is easy.

I hate my before picture but I love that it is there because it means I am on the path to after again.

The WW and the wrong right thing

“The right thing at a wrong time is a wrong thing.”― Joshua Harris

 

Life is about choices. I choose to be a weight watcher which brings about more choices. Choices in what we eat, how we move. Choices that either lead us on our desired path or off. It’s simple. Until it isn’t. What if the right path and the wrong path are the same for a while and a seemingly good choice goes bad.

And so I chose. I chose a grilled chicken salad. (No feta, dressing on the side and a pita). I did the math and it added up. I had my fun food of the day at lunch and needed to simplify for dinner. How could an on plan choice to go so simple lead me down the wrong path? The devil was in the details. Lunch was high in points but light on food.  I got the sandwich but skipped the fries or even the chips.  I entered dinner “Stahvin'”. That’s OK a grilled chicken salad was staring at me. That can’t be wrong. I did the math. I made it with my dailies. I inhaled it savoring the fact that I made it in my points.  I recognized the point when hunger had passed but I continued. Remember, I had the points. What I  didn’t have was more for later and that good choice was not the best for sustaining me through the day. I was full but when hunger hit again later I was out of points, out of ideas and eventually out of control.

I found myself wishing I had stopped myself. I could have saved some for later or used the spare points in my real trouble time later in the evening.

I made the right choice in the moment yet it was the wrong choice for the day. I must have points for snacking. It is my trigger time.

I have often fallen into a mode of all or nothing. Why couldn’t the snack have been just a little off plan to get the urge under control? Why had I jumped so far off the bandwagon that it took 2 days to recover?

Was there a better choice of food? Not likely. Was there a better choice on quantity consumed? For sure. Was there a choice to turn right choices into an excuse for wrong actions? Of course.

It’s about choices. I choose to move on. I choose to stand up again. I choose to choose instead of letting it happen. What other choice do I have?

Run, WW, Run

“Run, Forrest, Run” ~Jenny

Today marks the return of “Run, Weight Watcher, Run”. For those not familiar with the concept, I’ll explain.

I will exercise my way from coast to coast….virtually. Each day I will track my distance traveled in activity. Mostly by fitbit, Runkeeper (I use this when on my bike) or readouts from the elliptical machine at the gym.  I will plot where I end up that day on the map and include a weekly update in this blog. I will set weekly targets of where I would like to end up based on fitness goals.  I will use the points that I land on as inspiration for something to do in real life. I will share stories along the way. The goal is to make it to San Francisco and when my virtual self arrives I will plan a real trip there with my family.

So here we go…Run,WW, Run

Although I will normally update weekly I used Day 1 yesterday as the first point. I start at home in Massachusetts. My first destination is Kelly’s Roast Beef at Revere Beach. To actually go coast to coast my virtual self first heads east to the beach. Yes, I am that crazy. I didn’t make it there today mainly because I took an alternate route. Along the way the way I decided to stop by my childhood home. As I navigated my way into the next town I passed the first house I owned. A little nostalgia to kick off the trip (which I did last time as well.) My day ends at the Northgate shopping center in Revere.  There is a Japanese restaurant there that my family likes to go to but that is not the inspiration I find on day one (Plus this weekend is a bit crazy and I probably won’t make it there.) Instead I will target the Market Basket. Why? Well since this is my first week back on plan I need to do the familiar shopping trip to load up on items for me. The house is full of snack cakes, cookies and other not so healthy snacks. I need some fruit and a few of the picky foods I know worked for me in the past. I will continue with my concept of no diet foods but will go shopping for some better choices than what I have.

Run, WW, Run….Last time I made it Springfield, MA. This time…San Francisco here I come.

 

The Weight Watcher and Everyone you know

We all go through phases in our lives. I’m not talking about that summer where you found yourself in meditation, the week and a half you were in a rock band or your “Goth year”. I’m talking about the common life moments that we share with those around us similar in age.  Remember when every weekend you had a few beers to celebrate someones new job, then your Saturdays were full raising champagne glasses at everyone’s wedding, tamer celebrations followed with a million baby showers. Life progresses phase to phase where we see a lot of the same things from those that surround us.

And so we navigate through those phases some are joyous and some are painful. I have been in the phase where everyone’s parents have begun to pass on. Seeing old friends feels so right even if for the wrong reasons. Promises to do this again under better circumstances which most times fall short due to baseball games and karate practices.  There is celebration in the fact that we are there for each other with a little longing for the way things used to be.

Yet another phase has begun to emerge. As someone in my mid forties, I have started to see the trend of the random passing of someone my age.  An old friend, a random coworker, an article in the news of a celebrity you grew up watching. A long illness or a sudden surprise…there is shock and discussion. Laced into that discussion I have found a common thread. The few where there is not a surprise. The conversation goes like this. How did he die? Heart attack. Wasn’t he a big guy? Yea.

And so as a mid-forties “big guy” I often think, when I die I would like it to be surprising. Then I remember, I’ve had this thought before. I’ve even wrote about it before when an old friend passed in November. Yet hear I am again without change hearing about the death of a coworker. That “slap in the face” wears off. These call to arms get holstered.

I apologize if today’s post has a gloomy tone and I can’t pretend that the motivation I feel to “not be that guy” will hold. I can hope that the fact that it got me back into this blog and to enter my breakfast this morning into my tracker is truly a first and not an only step.  There are more glorious phases to come, the graduation parties are coming and then the grandkids and then the retirements. Not to mention the glorious mundane moments in between. I would like to be there for them.

 

The Weight Watcher and the Anthropomorphic Whale

“My guiding principle is this: Guilt is never to be doubted.” ~Franz Kafka

It seems I’ve gone mad. I am haunted. Not by Poe’s Raven but by an image of a whale. Why does it approach? Why does it speak to me? Maybe the lack of food is messing with my brain. Yet there he is, this anthropomorphic sea mammal come to drive me mad..come to make me feel bad. “Hello Weight Watcher.” he begins.  “Why have you come to me this night?” I ask. “To fill you with guilt of course.” he responds with a evil grin. “What madness! What reason? Why have you taken this form?” Before my visitor responds it dawns on me. My white whale has returned….My Moby Dick. Those who have followed my blog in the past know that I have one true enemy in my weight loss journey….my white whale….pizza.

“but why today do you haunt me? I won this round. I limited. I tracked. I even left daily points on the table. Why do you come casting doubt, filling me with guilt?” I can’t wrap my head around it yet there he is staring me down instantly making me feel bad.

He said not a word he just winked his cartoonish eye and laughed as if to say “You know why?”. Pizza for dinner went fine. When it came time for TV and a snack I went back. Another slice. Instantly the guilt flooded in and the battle with the white whale felt lost. But it was it really. I knew it would be trouble (especially for day 1 back on plan) but I planned for it. So why feel guilty? As I said I had the points even fell short of dailies. I suppose it is just that this creature has a power over me still. There was no chance my snack would be anything but a slice. I wasn’t choosing fruit or even a cookie or cake. It was going to be pizza and that was that. I did not have the power, he did. I did have the points and therefore found myself lucky. Had lunch gone another way maybe the guilt would be justified.

And so I blink my eyes and the beast disappears sure to return again to fight. I won the actual battle but he got his shots in, if not to the body to the head. This epic battle will be fought. It makes me uneasy as I try to gain momentum at this new beginning. It also gives me relief in that I worked it on plan and didn’t have 3 slices for a snack.

We should never feel guilt for staying on plan but there are some times even when we win we see the weakness.. and that’s OK. It’s just another day.

 

 

 

The Weight Watcher lathers, rinses, and repeats

“they say we’re young and we don’t know we won’t find out until we grow”~ Sonny and Cher

If your like me you can’t read or hear the words above without a mental trip to Punxatawney, PA. Phil…Phil Conners is that you? No It’s Mark….again. I’ve used these words in my blog before but for different reasons. At the time I relished the repetitiveness of the WW process. Just keep doing what your doing and you will be successful. As Phil would say …”that was a pretty good day”.

Today, I write from within a much different cycle. Sometimes I feel like all I do is wake up and wander into the shower. Blink and there I am again. Sure there is some noise in between but blink and there I am again. I say the same things…”Today is the day”, “I need to take better care of myself”, “Time to get moving”, “You can do it”.

Then I journey into the Groundhog day again. Do I make it past breakfast before throwing my hands up? Often I make it until settling onto the couch to watch some TV at night.  Shower, work, TV and snacking, Shower, work, TV and snacking, Shower, work, TV and snacking.  TO be perfectly honest I don’t know that I have the energy to do much more and I think that is what brings me here today. This isn’t a message of me feeling sorry for myself or too depressed to try. It is actually energy.  I’m fat, lazy and uninspired.

I actually broke the trend a bit last night, forcing myself to go to a soccer game in which I knew I would not have the legs or the wind to compete….but at least I showed up. It got the brain in motion as well as the body. What am I doing? Lather, rinse, repeat is not working. I feel physically bad and it is causing me to miss out. That is supposed to be my driving factor…don’t miss out on life because you are too fat to enjoy it.  Sure the other signs are there, deep breathing with a flight of stairs, barely enough flexibility to tie my shoes, a closet full of “I hope they button today” pants.

Lather, rinse, repeat…Lather, rinse, repeat…

How do I break the cycle? How do I start again on a lifetime journey of dealing with my weight?

It’s not in the tracker. It’s not out on the field or flashing on my fitbit. It’s not in the fridge or muffled by the crinkle of wrappers. It’s in my head. Not just getting my mind right to be ready to take on weight loss but in getting my mind right to do anything. My body has been lazy and that has transitioned into letting my brain do the same. If I can’t get a spark from the physical maybe I can with the mental. I usually like to have one creative outlet going.  Where is my outlet? I have a set of paints gathering dust, I have a blog that has until this moment gone unposted, I have a book still in it’s first chapter, I have Magic the Gathering deck unbuilt, I have a new home project undeveloped. Don’t get me wrong I am not looking to avoid the fridge by filling every moment with something. I am looking for something to break up what has become a very boring few months.

Sometimes we have to remember to stop and look around to remember how good things really are. I’m missing it. It’s right there. Call it a rut, Call it routine, Call it a chicken for all I care…Something needs to change for me and it has to begin somewhere. Maybe these words are the spark…maybe they are not. Maybe…the spark is still in my head clouded by reruns, snack cakes and routine…

Lather, rinse, repeat..Lather, rinse…DO ANYTHING ELSE.

The WW has returned. Let’s see if he is really ready to break the cycle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Weight Watcher and his Dad

My friends you have not seen me post in a while. I’m still here and I wish I could say I am doing well. Last week I lost my father so as you can imagine WW and blogging were not my top priority. He was indeed an amazing man who not only provided for me growing up but molded me into the man I am today. I had the opportunity to say his Eulogy at the funeral. It was both difficult and soothing at the same time. I only hope I said enough of those things to him while he was here.

And so here I sit gathering my WW thoughts and trying to return to any sense of normalcy. My brothers and I had so much support from family and friends…a lot of that support takes the form of pasta platters, bagels, cakes, and dinners out. I am grateful for every bite as dealing with funeral preparations are difficult as well as starting to sort through paperwork and belongings (a process I am not prepared to undertake. one step at a time).

I spent a lot of time with my father for which I am eternally grateful. I could quote him all day and find inspiration (maybe another day when I can handle that). For today I remember one thing he said to me recently and it is the reason I return to this site today. Dad recently told me that he had just became the oldest Donahue, passing the age of my grandfather when he passed. He was only 75.  My father passed from a likely heart attack. (and had another mild one just weeks before he passed). He also had Type 2 diabetes which complicates everything. I don’t often use my own health as a driver for my WW journey. I usually base it on doing the things I love and feeling better grabbing clothes out of the closet (I did have to buy a new fat suit just for the funeral).

I sit here sad and also afraid. I need the time to be now. I need to find strength. I just want to sit and be and not deal. Life doesn’t work that way. And so I stand up and try not to get knocked down. Is today a new Day 1 with another Day 1 to follow or will it lead to Day 2 and beyond. I can’t know I can only try.

I can think of the man, my dad, my hero and remember all that we had together. I could not have asked for anything more.

 

 

The Weight Watcher at the Road House

“Calling me sir is like putting an elevator in an outhouse. It don’t belong.” ~Emmet

Every time I drive through the countryside, I immediately catch an ear worm repeating “Sh-Boom, Sh-Boom” and conjure the image of Brad Wesley  happily swerving back and forth across both lanes. Welcome to Road House where at the Double Deuce “we’ve got entirely too many troublemakers here. Too many 40-year-old adolescents, felons, power drinkers and trustees of modern chemistry.”  Possibly the best bad movie of all time. 

I found myself traveling on this road for all the wrong reasons. My father took his snow bird form and began his migration. His journey cut short by a heart attack in Northern Virginia. (He’s OK now). My brother and I flew in to talk to the doctors and drive him back home. Sometimes life takes unexpected turns. “A polar bear fell on me.” 

I’ll spare you the details of hospital bureaucracy but let’s just say we were “nice until it was time to not be nice.”  He was finally released and we began our journey. 10 hours across, 7 states…No time for for fun. “You’re too stupid to have a good time.”  Actually I’m not but the situation called for a simple drive although it was killing me to go through DC and NYC without stopping .

The drive was uneventful enough. We postponed the lectures about leaving without telling anyone, driving cross country alone, the McDonald’s bags in the passenger seat, and even the steak he was paying for when he passed out. Those would come when we got home and he would learn “It’s my way, or the highway.” …staying with us for the week and coordinating all the follow ups. Driving to work this morning I would give myself the same speech where another Road House moment popped into my head

Tilghman: It’s a good night. Nobody died.

Dalton: It’ll get worse before it gets better.

I hate to be so gruff but sometimes reality sets in. I’m on that same path. From where I stand I would be lucky to end up a 75 year old man with type 2 diabetes, more stents in his heart than you can count and mild heart attack leaving no long term damage. I need to look less like Tinker and more like Dalton. (at least in body shape)

Dalton says that “Nobody ever wins a fight.” but in this journey I have to just keep fighting anyway. The road is long and sometimes painful but as our hero would say “Pain don’t hurt.”

At least we can have a few drinks and listen to some good music along the way. Cue the a band….“You’re paid to play so play”

The Weight Watcher and Fatboy Slim

The Weight Watcher has returned inspired by Fat Boy Slim. Not the English DJ you might be thinking of in fact I had to look up what song he was even famous for as I planned to write this blog. The Fat Boy Slim I speak of is nickname of an annual weight loss contest at my office. (12 weeks Biggest Loser style). I was surprised to find out that Norman Cook (aka Fat Boy Slim was the bassist for the Housemartins who made one of my favorite albums of all time. (but I digress)

So here I am stepping back on the path drawing inspiration from 23 other participants joking, harassing and trying to take my money. It has worked before. The one time I reached goal started with a similar contest. The majority of the group fizzled quick with a few losing the 10-20 pounds they gained through the holidays. I manged to leverage my momentum into an eventual 130+ pound loss. Here I stand just 18 pounds lighter than when I started that journey.

So from FatBoy Slim..

“Why try harder”…. to win

“I have to praise you”… to my friend who kicked off this contest because I needed some spark.

“Right here, right now”….says it all

The journey is long and treacherous but must begin with a single step  and thanks to some friends and a little fun competition hopefully I have taken that first step….AGAIN.

 

The Weight Watcher and the white whale

“Human madness is oftentimes a cunning and most feline thing. When you think it fled, it may have but become transfigured into some still subtler form.”~Moby Dick

Don’t call me Ishmael. This quote seems familiar. I have been brought to madness again. 3 years and one half I have wandered. I have the sailed the seas of the weight loss community seeking revenge, seeking and end. I have hunted my white whale looking for answers and as recent as the evening past I have battled another round. The result the same. My ship splintered, sinking in despair as the great beat swam in like in rocket. Wreaked it’s havoc and disappeared into the depth. “…to the last I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee.” The white whale.

Anyone who has seen the previous version of this blog on the WW site know that my white whale takes a different form. No blowholes and fins. My white whale is covered in sauce and cheese with a crust. He comes sometimes dressed in toppings of pepperoni or mushrooms. Pizza. I have had many successes in my journey and many failures but one thing holds great power over me. Pizza. I cannot solve this riddle. I hunt for answers. I try to sail away forever distancing myself yet it always surfaces on the horizon.

Again last evening it burst through the surface. Our first encounter was harmless. An extra slice more than I would have liked but it was my first weekly points so I had the room. Then it circled. If only the family had finished him off. Round and round he called to me like the raven. I turned a deaf ear and fled. Yet he returned again. In the end head hung low I let the seas wash over me in the wreckage of my tracker. The whale had one. I tread water and climbed into the boat of a new day. Weekly points gone but I am hear sailing again towards the sunrise. We will battle again. I may not win but I will survive.

Until next time…my friend, my nemesis, my white whale.