No progress, so far.
Some people may consider a few pounds lost to be significant, but when you weigh as much as I, the weight fluctuation is really nothing to get excited about. I'm currently a 383, and I still feel awful. I've started taking less to eat with me to work, which is good, but I seem to be making up for it at home. I can't seem to drag myself to the gym, and even my den, which contains a Soloflex, and some other equipment, seems less inviting than it used to. I've only been down there once since the funeral, and I spent more time playing darts than I did working out.
I suppose I can be thankful that I don't weigh 1000 lbs. like that guy from Nebraska, but even he is doing something, and that just makes me seem even lazier.
I know where this is leading, I can see it in my head, and the logic is all there. Wheelchair, amputation, heart attack, dead, and my wife is a thirty-something widow.
If I know all this, why is it so hard for me to do what it takes to correct it?
I just got off the phone with my mother, who is still struggling with her weight, and she's almost 60. She tries to encourage me, but it always just comes off as so much nagging, which makes me sad, which makes me want to eat. ARGH!
I wish I could afford to go to some fat camp somewhere where they say what you can eat, and have you exercise, and all that stuff.
Even better, I wish I could afford to have a personal chef and personal trainer come to my house and prepare healthy meals and encourage me to exercise.
Well, I know one thing we CAN'T afford right now, and thats a lot of medical bills, or a funeral. So maybe I should consider it a good investment and keep trying to get up off my fat butt and do it myself.
Maybe I can hire the band Survivor to come over and inspire me like in that Starbucks commercial.