The Line

I don't know about you, but I have a very distinct line where I am comfortable with my body.

I'm sure it is different for everybody. It depends on how tall you are and what type of bone structure you have. My line is 180.

My weight tends to fluctuate drastically. I am one of those people who will lose a bunch of weight and then gain a bunch of weight and then lost it again and so forth. Because of this, I know my lines.

I am 5' 9". (Assuming I stand up straight, which I never ever do.)

My body used to tend to regulate itself around 160 pounds. If I were between 140 and 160 I felt pretty good. Anything under 140 and I start to look sickly. Maybe now that I am in my late thirties my middle is closer to 165, so lets say between 145 and 165 I look good.

Anything above 166 I look "heavy". Not fat, just heavy. Like I could stand to lose a few pounds.

When I cross over to 180 I look different. I look fat. My face changes shape and I am uncomfortable all of the time.

I have been uncomfortable for a couple of weeks now but I was afraid to get on the scale.

I knew exactly what it was going to say.

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We've been traveling. One of the things about long car trips with two picky four year olds is that I end up eating garbage like McDonalds.

I think anybody that is reading this blog knows what that means.

In a hotel room in Florence, South Carolina I caught a glimpse of myself from the side.

It didn't even look like me. I am almost as wide from front to back as I am from side to side. I have a beer belly!

Who am I trying to kid? I have a beer everything.

So I have spent the last couple of days beating myself up mentally. I've been calling myself horrible names in my mind. I've been exercising slightly more moderation but I am on vacation and it is Thanksgiving.

And the fat doesn't come off that fast.

I finally hauled my fat ass up on my Mom's scale this morning. 184.* I haven't weighed that much since just after my twins were born.

It is no secret I love beer. It is no secret that beer has a shitload of empty calories. Something has got to give and since nobody will give me any Fen-Phen it is going to have to be the beer.

Now, I'm not going to go crazy. When I go crazy I can't keep any weight off and depriving ones self during the holidays just leads to binging in January. (For me anyway, I know. I've done it before. Twice.) What I am going to do is take it easier. I am going to pay attention.

And when I get home, some things are going to change.

They have to. I can't live hating myself like this.


* Remember, these numbers mean different things to everybody. You could be smokin' hot at 215. You could be round and flabby at 126, I have no idea. Do not apply my fat numbers to yourself.