Respect from me is something that's always been earned and not given randomly.
Tonight, I pay tribute to my car, a 1999 Acura Integra GS. It's been one hell of a car, and I feel like it's time I really pay tribute to the thing.
We've been through a lot together, and we've logged in a lot of miles around the USA and Canada in the 9 years I've owned it (I have never genderized my Acura, as it has never behaved as selfishly as a woman or as brazen as a man).
I got her on July 3, 2002, at the end of a very difficult time in my life. I got it used from Davis Acura in Oxford Valley with 53,000 miles logged in. In spite of it's miles, it looked and performed like new, and it came with an extended 100,000 mile warranty. The dealer treated me as though I had purchased a brand new vehicle, and gave me all the perks of new car owners, including free washes and detail with every service, every other oil change was free, etc.
I babied my Integra, kept it clean in and out, and always kept up with the scheduled maintenance. In all the years I've had it, it's only recently left me stranded for the first time in it's entire lifespan, a thing that caused more than a little worry, because I was suddenly facing the end of an era with it, and it felt like I had a dear friend on life support, and I felt selfish with the prospect of having to go out and buy another vehicle.
Don't get me wrong. I WANT another vehicle. I just know it's going to be hard to say goodbye when that day comes.
We've gone down a lot of roads. All around the Philadelphia area and New Jersey, frequent trips to Sandy Hook or Atlantic City, Washington DC, New York City, eventually taking regular trips (sometimes a few times a month!) to Canada, crossing over that customs border at Niagara Falls, Toronto, and the entire Lake Ontario coastline. Later on, it carried myself, many of my belongings and my two kitties from Philadelphia across the country by 2900 miles to Orange County, CA, where we both reside to this day. It's wheels touched the familiar roads of PA, Delaware, Maryland, DC, and then new roads in Virginia, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and finally to California, and never once did it ask me to take a break. Even then, that car had nearly 200,000 miles on it and still ran perfectly!
As I said before, it never until very recently called in sick to me. Things have happened. Every car has issues. About six months into my ownership of it, the cover to the catalytic converter fell off on I-95 on an overnight trip to Washington DC. It still ran just fine, it was just VERY loud! It was an inexpensive repair.
In 2003, my poor baby was in a car accident. I was on the Sandy Hook peninsula driving toward my favorite beach on a nearly empty road, when all of a sudden, a car about 1/4 mile in front of me decided to make a U-turn across 4 lanes without looking, and managed to side-swipe my car. It was the most unlikely of accidents. I mean...who does that?!?!?
Fortunately, the speed limit on that road was 25, so it was a low-impact accident, and the other driver assumed 100% of fault. As for the damage, the passenger door has an nearly un-noticable crease across the middle of it, and the passenger side panel needed to be replaced as well as the front bumper. I replaced them myself using pre-painted OEM parts I found on Ebay, saving me about $4500 in body shop labor costs. The car was never "perfect" again, as to this day there is still a crease in the door and a very small bend on the passenger corner of the hood, but there was no frame damage, so my baby got me home safe and sound with no problems that day either.
It over-heated on me one time, requiring an emergency trip to the mechanic. But, it just happened to over-heat about 1/4 mile from my car dealer, as I was taking it in for an oil change and some scheduled maintenance, so it still didn't fail me. It did require a new radiator though...
About three years ago I started having some bad financial troubles. Since I no longer had a maintenance schedule and the car was no longer under warranty, I got a bit lazy on the upkeep. But still, it held on and remained a faithful friend. Right before I moved to CA, my mechanic warned me I'd be needing new rear brakes. I didn't have money to do it spot-on, so I decided I'd wait until I got to CA to replace them. Those old brakes managed to last nearly another year before they began to give me trouble. Unfortunately, it would take another year for me to finally get it fixed! That was a whole year of screaching and squeeling brakes, and I could be heard approaching a mile away!
And then just a few weeks ago, I walked out to my car to go into work only to discover my car had been broken into. Some jack-wad smashed in the passenger window and stole my gym bag from the passenger side floor. I consider that a lucky day, as the theif DID NOT take my credit cards, iPod, ID, or $300 in cash that I accidentally left in the center console, only a bag of stinky gym clothes (and my $150 pair of noise-cancelling headphones were also in that bag :( )
And just a few days later, with 228,000 miles on that car, it finally left me stranded for the first time in 9 years of ownership. It over-heated, and I had to scramble to a Pep Boys nearby as fast as I could before the engine seized and the car would have been gone forever. As I waited through Thanksgiving to find if my baby was going to survive the incident, I was at a loss as to what I'd do next. I need a car out here, and if it is fixable at all, it may be too expensive to fix. There was a possibility the head gasket was bad, which is a $1500 repair itself, not to mention everything else it would need. Repairs could have been as high as $3000, at which point it would be totaled, as it probably isn't worth that amount anymore.
Fortunately, the $1500 head gasket turned out to be a $30 valve cover gasket, and along with another new radiator (even though it's the second one I had to replace, they both lived their full life expectancy), it got a full tune-up, and BADLY needed brakes.
The mechanic even commented to me on how well the car was running for it's age and mileage. Now that I have it back nearly good as new, I'm experiencing a new joy in driving my little Integra. I know not to take it on any cross-country excursions anymore, and I know it's probably in it's last year of operation (or maybe two!), at 228,000 miles, I'm quite confident this reliable little car has another 100,000 miles of roads to cover before it decides to retire itself, and I think instead of looking to send it into early retirement for a new car, I may just let it life out it's life as long as it wants to keep riding those roads.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
A few words on my weight
This is an introduction to the mental turmoil that my weight issues have brought throughout my life.
When I was a toddler, I was, as my mother described, "dangerously underweight". Apparently, they couldn't get me to eat much and the doctors were even perplexed as to why I wasn't putting on weight the way a young toddler should.
I remember being a skinny little kid, and I had my first girlfriend in catholic grade school by the time I was in third grade. I was a cute kid. Big smile, platinum blond hair, blue eyes. Yep. Totally adorable. All the girls wanted me (I don't know if that's true, actually).
During the summer between 4th and 5th grade, I remember putting on a ton of weight out of nowhere, and it's one of my childhood memories: It was the night before school started and my mother would have me try on my new school clothes (Catholic school, I wore a light blue button-down with a blue tie, and navy blue slacks, black shoes). I remember my mom bursting out in tears because I didn't fit into the clothes she bought me. I had no idea at the time what was happening, and as far as I knew she just screwed up and bought the wrong size.
The first day of 5th grade, my "girlfriend" broke up with me because I had gotten fat. I don't really remember how fat I was, but when school physicals came around, which were right in front of everyone in the classroom, I remember being made fun of because my weight was one of the highest in the class. Around the same time, I remember the family doctor telling me I was 160 pounds (at 10 years old), which was exactly the right weight I should be for an eighteen year old. His advice? Don't gain any weight. Just grow into it. Wow. He went to college to learn that!
So, from 5th grade up until 9th grade I was a chubby kid. I have embarrassing photos of me at that age that I refuse to show anyone. Round face, dry skin, long, straight hair that looked like it wasn't being washed enough, and the onset of acne. In 1983, they didn't have the skincare products available like they do now, and I was still wearing what mom made me wear, which made for some embarrassing memories. I know I'm not alone in this, so I don't really dwell on it.
In 9th grade, I played the large bass drum in the marching band. It was really physical, and it got me in fairly decent shape, though I was still on the pudgy side, but not fat. If I remember, I was weighing in around 190 pounds. I also swam a lot. In the middle of 9th grade I came down with mono and was mostly bed-ridden for four months. I lost around 25 pounds, and it was the first and only time in my teen years that I can say I was "skinny". 165 was the correct weight for someone my age and height.
I'll break from the history for a moment and shift to my eating habits. My mother was always obsessed with her weight. After having two kids, it gradually took a toll on her body, as it does with most mothers. Her solution fell in the form of weight watchers, nutri-system and other fad plans. Some worked for a while, others didn't. But, in her attempt to educate me (not so much my older brother, who was skinny as a rail at the time), it was all the mumbo-jumbo you learn through going through these fad diets, as opposed to really knowing about portion control, nutrients, exercise, etc. Even worse, it was mostly just talk, because the food brought to the table when I was growing up was seldom healthy, and if it was, it was purely by accident.
Like many families, the food at our table was mostly spaghetti with meat sauce, frozen chicken patties, burgers and hot dogs, potato salad, cole slaw, lots of lunchmeat and sandwiches. Fridays were pizza or hoagie nights where we'd all sit in front of the tv and eat pizza, hoagies and chips, or philly cheese steaks, share a half gallon of ice cream and soda. We also were the kind of family that raced to the finish line with our meals, so we could get the leftovers. The only fish that entered our house was in the form of Mrs. Paul's fish sticks, or nasty bluefish my dad might have caught while out fishing, which he knew how to clean, but they didn't know how to cook. I never had fresh fish, shellfish, etc. until I moved out of the house for college in 1992.
Years later, as I began to look back on my family's eating habits, I can best describe our diet as "picnic food regimen".
Back to my history.
After recovering from mono, I spent much of 10th grade gradually putting the weight back on, and then some. By my junior year I was up to over 200 pounds. During the summer between my senior year, however, I rode my bike 2 miles each way to work, which apparently was enough to slim me down a bit to 185 or so. I was fairly in-shape (or at least not fat) during my senior year in 1988.
When I turned 18 I got myself into the gym and became addicted to working out for the first time ever. Other than swimming, I never had any incentive to exercise (unless you include being forced to be on little league and basketball teams because my older brother was on them. He was the best player, I was, in actuality, the worst, and spent all my time as a bench warmer!), so joining the gym, for me, was a big deal. The gym I joined had a 1.5 olympic sized pool and I'd swim a total of 2 miles nearly every day, lifted weights a few times a week, etc. It was enough to keep me "fit", but I always felt like I had more weight that needed to be lost. I remember eating a lot of cheese steaks and bufallo wings late at night, just like a lot of guys my age at the time, so maybe if I had more knowledge of my food intake and calorie consumption, I wouldn't have always had that perception that I needed to lose another 20 pounds or so.
When I went away to college in 1992, I quickly put on "the freshman 30" just by eating at the school cafeteria several times a week. Our cafeteria was basically a Sizzler, offering regular cafeteria meals, plus full-on salad bar, soup bar, dessert bar, pasta bar, burger/dogs/chicken finger/grilled cheese bar, and pizza bar all wrapped together for one low price of $5.30 a day!
My first year there I didn't go to a gym, though I did swim at the campus pool a lot, but it wasn't enough to keep me from adding pounds from all those calories I was consuming every day. I wasn't a partier, so booze was never a factor in putting weight on. It was that stupid cafeteria!
The next year, I moved off-campus and got a gym membership down the street from my apartment. I remember I was hovering somewhere around 235# at the time.
It was around that time that I learned about nutrition, and I did something that I've been trying to do to myself again ever since.
I enrolled in a health and fitness class for my PE requirement. It was my only Monday class, and it was during the evening. We learned all sorts of things about our bodies, including proper eating habits. I devoted those Mondays as "healthy living day". When I got up, I'd go straight to the gym and work out the entire day. I'd eat nothing but salad greens with balsamic vinegar, sorbet, turkey breast, and lots of veggies and fruit. During class, we'd sometimes go out of the class and test fitness levels, and in one case, I remember having to run a timed mile. Horros came to me from high school, where I was one of the "15 minute mile" kids. This time around, I ran the mile in 7 minutes, which I think is good at any level, and I could have gone farther. "healthy living" Mondays carried over into Tuesday, and before you knew it, it had become my lifestyle. When I quit college in 1995 and moved to San Diego, I was a lean, fairly muscular 190 pounds.
In San Diego, I remember walking along the streets and people cat-calling me. For someone who never really had that happen, it was a big boost to my self esteem. In San Diego, I joined Bally Total Fitness, and I remember they had a really great pneumatic platform that gave you a weight assist in upper body exercises like pull ups, lat raises, and shoulder presses. I was addicted to that machine, and it gave me a nicely developed upper body. Not chiseled by any means, but clearly worked out.
But financial circumstances sent me packing back to Philly only 9 months later. I remember the size 34 jeans that were getting roomy on me in San Diego. I wore them the whole drive across country, and I was busting out of them when I arrived at my parents' doorstep. The east coast had a knack of putting pounds on me. It must have been the high calorie foods I was packing in to stay awake during the drive, but I gained over 10 pounds in 3 days!
Only days after moving home, I found myself in a relationship that lasted nearly the next 3 years. I was with someone who had a high metabolism, so I was back to eating unhealthy, and not exercising (I had no money for a gym membership).
At the end of those 3 years we began to drift apart, and I remember him telling me he was no longer physically attracted to me. I'd gained over 40 pounds in three years without even realizing it!
I was now 240 pounds and depressed as hell. I had some legal issues at the same time. I was living with my family again (who were a proven bad influence on me with regards to food) and I felt my life was going nowhere.
After a few years of trying to get back on my feet, I landed a really good job with a new restaurant that brought me on as the FOH manager/head waiter. After a rough first few months (I didn't think the place was doing so well and left to pursue a job in music instrument sales, only to return to the restaurant 2 months later), things began to get back on track very slowly in my personal life. More importantly, I began to get close to Bradley, a server I hired before I left, who had extended his hand in friendship to me during the time I had left the restaurant. My friendship with him became what would be one of the most fulfilling times of my life so far. I had someone in my life that I truly connected with, and he made me feel younger than I was (he was only 18 to my 35 and people often mistook us as boyfriends around the same age). We began spending a lot of time in Toronto together, which provoked me to start getting myself back in shape again. At this point, I'd topped my scales at 256#. I tackled my problem by hitting the gym twice a day, at least 2 hours of cardio a day plus lifting and swimming. But, I went on a strict crash diet. I ate 2 bags of spinach every day, 2 bowls of Special K cereal with skim milk, and one serving of lean meat a day. In 2 months time, I lost 25 pounds, which to me, didn't seem like enough considering all the work I was doing. I swore off of fast food, sodas, all bad foods, and I could only lose 25# in three months?
Something was starting to seem off. I kept that weight off the whole time I had known him, until he suddenly was killed in a car accident in 2008.
Depression is a bitch. I stopped working out alltogether. I ate constantly. Food was really the only other activity I enjoyed. By the time I moved back to California in October of 2008, I was weighing in at 266#!!! That's the most I ever weighed.
Since that time, I've been trying to get myself back to eating right and becoming addicted to the gym, but now that I've hit that 40 mark, it's harder to stay motivated when you see such little results for harder work. Still, over the course of my first year back in CA, I managed to lose 20#, but there's a long way to go. During my 2nd year I've put 10# back on, so now I'm at my "old" high weight of 252# again., and I am very uncomfortable with this. I've managed to kick a brief smoking habit, which is good, but I still never have any energy, and I'm always ready to sleep except during the times of day that I should!
I came to CA to escape those memories that were haunting me with Brad, but also because I was so happy here before. I always considered CA to be my home. I saw an opportunity to live that healthy lifestyle again. Outdoor activities, gettign myself addicted to the gym again, healthy eating again.
As it stands now, I mostly eat healthy, though I tend to binge eat. The cheapest food in CA to eat is all bad for you, and I've had two years of being in a really bad financial state. I could eat salads, lean meats, and veggies for days at a time, but spoil it all in a day or two with fast food meals or worse.
Right now, I feel like I am completely lacking discipline in my life. Because I have no set work pattern, I seldom have a reason to get out of bed, and I love to sleep (it doesn't cost me anything!). I seem to make excuses to not go to the gym, so I don't go enough. The thing is, I REALLY enjoy the gym when I'm there. I don't understand what the mental block is that I'm dealing with in that regard. Am I just making excuses? Things like "I'll lose my parking spot" seem to be enough to keep me from going. As for food, again, I generally eat pretty healthy, and I even record my food intake, and at least 4 days of the week I'm pretty nutritionally sound. But, it's the remaining 3 days that screws me, where I may have a 3000 calorie or more meal in one sitting. I know why I do that though, and it comes back to my financial state. I feel like I'm rationing myself when I have a slow work week (which is a lot), so when I have some money come in, I'll go out and treat myself. It may not be an expensive meal, but it'll be loaded with calories.
So, fixing this whole financial mess this year is crucial to me. Two years of being neglected where I am is enough. I don't know if that will mean moving on, but it does mean it's time to do something about it.
When I was a toddler, I was, as my mother described, "dangerously underweight". Apparently, they couldn't get me to eat much and the doctors were even perplexed as to why I wasn't putting on weight the way a young toddler should.
I remember being a skinny little kid, and I had my first girlfriend in catholic grade school by the time I was in third grade. I was a cute kid. Big smile, platinum blond hair, blue eyes. Yep. Totally adorable. All the girls wanted me (I don't know if that's true, actually).
During the summer between 4th and 5th grade, I remember putting on a ton of weight out of nowhere, and it's one of my childhood memories: It was the night before school started and my mother would have me try on my new school clothes (Catholic school, I wore a light blue button-down with a blue tie, and navy blue slacks, black shoes). I remember my mom bursting out in tears because I didn't fit into the clothes she bought me. I had no idea at the time what was happening, and as far as I knew she just screwed up and bought the wrong size.
The first day of 5th grade, my "girlfriend" broke up with me because I had gotten fat. I don't really remember how fat I was, but when school physicals came around, which were right in front of everyone in the classroom, I remember being made fun of because my weight was one of the highest in the class. Around the same time, I remember the family doctor telling me I was 160 pounds (at 10 years old), which was exactly the right weight I should be for an eighteen year old. His advice? Don't gain any weight. Just grow into it. Wow. He went to college to learn that!
So, from 5th grade up until 9th grade I was a chubby kid. I have embarrassing photos of me at that age that I refuse to show anyone. Round face, dry skin, long, straight hair that looked like it wasn't being washed enough, and the onset of acne. In 1983, they didn't have the skincare products available like they do now, and I was still wearing what mom made me wear, which made for some embarrassing memories. I know I'm not alone in this, so I don't really dwell on it.
In 9th grade, I played the large bass drum in the marching band. It was really physical, and it got me in fairly decent shape, though I was still on the pudgy side, but not fat. If I remember, I was weighing in around 190 pounds. I also swam a lot. In the middle of 9th grade I came down with mono and was mostly bed-ridden for four months. I lost around 25 pounds, and it was the first and only time in my teen years that I can say I was "skinny". 165 was the correct weight for someone my age and height.
I'll break from the history for a moment and shift to my eating habits. My mother was always obsessed with her weight. After having two kids, it gradually took a toll on her body, as it does with most mothers. Her solution fell in the form of weight watchers, nutri-system and other fad plans. Some worked for a while, others didn't. But, in her attempt to educate me (not so much my older brother, who was skinny as a rail at the time), it was all the mumbo-jumbo you learn through going through these fad diets, as opposed to really knowing about portion control, nutrients, exercise, etc. Even worse, it was mostly just talk, because the food brought to the table when I was growing up was seldom healthy, and if it was, it was purely by accident.
Like many families, the food at our table was mostly spaghetti with meat sauce, frozen chicken patties, burgers and hot dogs, potato salad, cole slaw, lots of lunchmeat and sandwiches. Fridays were pizza or hoagie nights where we'd all sit in front of the tv and eat pizza, hoagies and chips, or philly cheese steaks, share a half gallon of ice cream and soda. We also were the kind of family that raced to the finish line with our meals, so we could get the leftovers. The only fish that entered our house was in the form of Mrs. Paul's fish sticks, or nasty bluefish my dad might have caught while out fishing, which he knew how to clean, but they didn't know how to cook. I never had fresh fish, shellfish, etc. until I moved out of the house for college in 1992.
Years later, as I began to look back on my family's eating habits, I can best describe our diet as "picnic food regimen".
Back to my history.
After recovering from mono, I spent much of 10th grade gradually putting the weight back on, and then some. By my junior year I was up to over 200 pounds. During the summer between my senior year, however, I rode my bike 2 miles each way to work, which apparently was enough to slim me down a bit to 185 or so. I was fairly in-shape (or at least not fat) during my senior year in 1988.
When I turned 18 I got myself into the gym and became addicted to working out for the first time ever. Other than swimming, I never had any incentive to exercise (unless you include being forced to be on little league and basketball teams because my older brother was on them. He was the best player, I was, in actuality, the worst, and spent all my time as a bench warmer!), so joining the gym, for me, was a big deal. The gym I joined had a 1.5 olympic sized pool and I'd swim a total of 2 miles nearly every day, lifted weights a few times a week, etc. It was enough to keep me "fit", but I always felt like I had more weight that needed to be lost. I remember eating a lot of cheese steaks and bufallo wings late at night, just like a lot of guys my age at the time, so maybe if I had more knowledge of my food intake and calorie consumption, I wouldn't have always had that perception that I needed to lose another 20 pounds or so.
When I went away to college in 1992, I quickly put on "the freshman 30" just by eating at the school cafeteria several times a week. Our cafeteria was basically a Sizzler, offering regular cafeteria meals, plus full-on salad bar, soup bar, dessert bar, pasta bar, burger/dogs/chicken finger/grilled cheese bar, and pizza bar all wrapped together for one low price of $5.30 a day!
My first year there I didn't go to a gym, though I did swim at the campus pool a lot, but it wasn't enough to keep me from adding pounds from all those calories I was consuming every day. I wasn't a partier, so booze was never a factor in putting weight on. It was that stupid cafeteria!
The next year, I moved off-campus and got a gym membership down the street from my apartment. I remember I was hovering somewhere around 235# at the time.
It was around that time that I learned about nutrition, and I did something that I've been trying to do to myself again ever since.
I enrolled in a health and fitness class for my PE requirement. It was my only Monday class, and it was during the evening. We learned all sorts of things about our bodies, including proper eating habits. I devoted those Mondays as "healthy living day". When I got up, I'd go straight to the gym and work out the entire day. I'd eat nothing but salad greens with balsamic vinegar, sorbet, turkey breast, and lots of veggies and fruit. During class, we'd sometimes go out of the class and test fitness levels, and in one case, I remember having to run a timed mile. Horros came to me from high school, where I was one of the "15 minute mile" kids. This time around, I ran the mile in 7 minutes, which I think is good at any level, and I could have gone farther. "healthy living" Mondays carried over into Tuesday, and before you knew it, it had become my lifestyle. When I quit college in 1995 and moved to San Diego, I was a lean, fairly muscular 190 pounds.
In San Diego, I remember walking along the streets and people cat-calling me. For someone who never really had that happen, it was a big boost to my self esteem. In San Diego, I joined Bally Total Fitness, and I remember they had a really great pneumatic platform that gave you a weight assist in upper body exercises like pull ups, lat raises, and shoulder presses. I was addicted to that machine, and it gave me a nicely developed upper body. Not chiseled by any means, but clearly worked out.
But financial circumstances sent me packing back to Philly only 9 months later. I remember the size 34 jeans that were getting roomy on me in San Diego. I wore them the whole drive across country, and I was busting out of them when I arrived at my parents' doorstep. The east coast had a knack of putting pounds on me. It must have been the high calorie foods I was packing in to stay awake during the drive, but I gained over 10 pounds in 3 days!
Only days after moving home, I found myself in a relationship that lasted nearly the next 3 years. I was with someone who had a high metabolism, so I was back to eating unhealthy, and not exercising (I had no money for a gym membership).
At the end of those 3 years we began to drift apart, and I remember him telling me he was no longer physically attracted to me. I'd gained over 40 pounds in three years without even realizing it!
I was now 240 pounds and depressed as hell. I had some legal issues at the same time. I was living with my family again (who were a proven bad influence on me with regards to food) and I felt my life was going nowhere.
After a few years of trying to get back on my feet, I landed a really good job with a new restaurant that brought me on as the FOH manager/head waiter. After a rough first few months (I didn't think the place was doing so well and left to pursue a job in music instrument sales, only to return to the restaurant 2 months later), things began to get back on track very slowly in my personal life. More importantly, I began to get close to Bradley, a server I hired before I left, who had extended his hand in friendship to me during the time I had left the restaurant. My friendship with him became what would be one of the most fulfilling times of my life so far. I had someone in my life that I truly connected with, and he made me feel younger than I was (he was only 18 to my 35 and people often mistook us as boyfriends around the same age). We began spending a lot of time in Toronto together, which provoked me to start getting myself back in shape again. At this point, I'd topped my scales at 256#. I tackled my problem by hitting the gym twice a day, at least 2 hours of cardio a day plus lifting and swimming. But, I went on a strict crash diet. I ate 2 bags of spinach every day, 2 bowls of Special K cereal with skim milk, and one serving of lean meat a day. In 2 months time, I lost 25 pounds, which to me, didn't seem like enough considering all the work I was doing. I swore off of fast food, sodas, all bad foods, and I could only lose 25# in three months?
Something was starting to seem off. I kept that weight off the whole time I had known him, until he suddenly was killed in a car accident in 2008.
Depression is a bitch. I stopped working out alltogether. I ate constantly. Food was really the only other activity I enjoyed. By the time I moved back to California in October of 2008, I was weighing in at 266#!!! That's the most I ever weighed.
Since that time, I've been trying to get myself back to eating right and becoming addicted to the gym, but now that I've hit that 40 mark, it's harder to stay motivated when you see such little results for harder work. Still, over the course of my first year back in CA, I managed to lose 20#, but there's a long way to go. During my 2nd year I've put 10# back on, so now I'm at my "old" high weight of 252# again., and I am very uncomfortable with this. I've managed to kick a brief smoking habit, which is good, but I still never have any energy, and I'm always ready to sleep except during the times of day that I should!
I came to CA to escape those memories that were haunting me with Brad, but also because I was so happy here before. I always considered CA to be my home. I saw an opportunity to live that healthy lifestyle again. Outdoor activities, gettign myself addicted to the gym again, healthy eating again.
As it stands now, I mostly eat healthy, though I tend to binge eat. The cheapest food in CA to eat is all bad for you, and I've had two years of being in a really bad financial state. I could eat salads, lean meats, and veggies for days at a time, but spoil it all in a day or two with fast food meals or worse.
Right now, I feel like I am completely lacking discipline in my life. Because I have no set work pattern, I seldom have a reason to get out of bed, and I love to sleep (it doesn't cost me anything!). I seem to make excuses to not go to the gym, so I don't go enough. The thing is, I REALLY enjoy the gym when I'm there. I don't understand what the mental block is that I'm dealing with in that regard. Am I just making excuses? Things like "I'll lose my parking spot" seem to be enough to keep me from going. As for food, again, I generally eat pretty healthy, and I even record my food intake, and at least 4 days of the week I'm pretty nutritionally sound. But, it's the remaining 3 days that screws me, where I may have a 3000 calorie or more meal in one sitting. I know why I do that though, and it comes back to my financial state. I feel like I'm rationing myself when I have a slow work week (which is a lot), so when I have some money come in, I'll go out and treat myself. It may not be an expensive meal, but it'll be loaded with calories.
So, fixing this whole financial mess this year is crucial to me. Two years of being neglected where I am is enough. I don't know if that will mean moving on, but it does mean it's time to do something about it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)