Ever carry the weight of another?
For how long?
Or walked as far as they need to recover?
For how long?
-Overweight, by Blue October
I’ve been avoiding writing here lately because of what’s been on my mind. I won’t go so far as to call it self-loathing, or depression, really, but it’s akin to those feelings. Something needs to change. Maybe something drastic.
I’ve been battling with this for a couple of weeks now, and have noticed how I want to keep making a million little changes. I want to cook more. I want to paint some rooms. I want new carpet. I want to get rid of all this furniture sitting in my house. I want to become a different person.
Now I know that several of my friends will immediately pipe in here and say all those things that friends say. You know the things. “You shouldn’t have to change.” “I think you’re just fine the way you are.” You know, those bullshit things. They say these things because they’re already friends. The truth of the matter, though, is that they have already gotten past the things that need to change. The things that keep me from making new friends.
For starters, my outlook on life is skewed. I expect the worst from everyone, and everything. I am the archetype for pessimism. I view everything with skepticism, everyone with suspicion. The truth behind this is that I act this way to protect myself. If I expect the worst from every situation, then I can never be disappointed. I can never be hurt.
Another aspect that I’m unhappy with is my weight. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I weighed in at 356 pounds yesterday afternoon. That means I have officially gained almost thirty of the forty-five pounds I’d lost back. (Which also means I used to weigh 365.) I don’t feel unhealthy, but I have no misconceptions about how likely a heart attack is at this weight.
The final aspect of me that needs to change is my shyness. I’m a shy person. I will force myself to overcome this shyness in certain situations, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m shy. I think the reason behind this is a combination of the above two things. I’m insecure about my weight and guarded against getting hurt. How many opportunities have I missed because of this?
And so, yesterday afternoon, I resolved to do something about it. It started with a walk on the treadmill, that turned into a jog, that turned into a run, that turned into a panting, sweating, fat man clutching his shins because the muscles burned so much he couldn’t walk himself to the shower. Probably not the most responsible reaction, I know, but it felt good. It felt good to punish myself for letting it get this far. (Good in a masochistic sort of way, I suppose, which is ironic since I’m usually on the other side of that spectrum.)
I have resolved to change the things I can, for now, and see if the other things change around them. My weight seems like the most likely candidate for this, which will entail a change of eating habits and a regimented exercise routine. (Though not to the point of pain again.) Ideally, I’d like to be 250. I’ll settle for 300 by the end of the year. I might visit a doctor and find out what my “ideal weight” should be.
My attitude is also something I think I can alter. I need to smile more. I need to be more willing to make eye contact with people when I’m talking to them. I need to walk with my head up. These three things are small, yet I believe they will start a chain reaction that will slowly affect my attitude.
I don’t expect anything to change overnight. I know this will take months and months, if not years. After all, it took thirty-two years to build this person. So I should have writing material for a good while, and I promise to keep you all informed along the way. I’ll also try to keep my sense of humor intact, and not be quite so serious.