4XLT

(Warning: Long-ish, gut level honesty fueled rant)

I was doing a little mental math the other day and realized that it’s been five years since I have been in a serious relationship. Five years. It was back during my sophomore year of college; I was nineteen / twenty at the time.

Five whole years. Has it really been that long?

I’m not even going to go in to the aspect of the will of God or anything more metaphysical than my own passing thoughts right now. If I was talking with you in person, this is the point where I would shrug unknowingly.

Ultimately for me, it boils down to a pretty simple fact of life. I wouldn’t date a 440 pound woman; why would I expect any woman to do the same with me? Come on now, love isn’t blind, and neither am I. It would be the pinnacle of hypocrisy for me to expect to date an woman who takes care of herself while I am so freaking obese. Or, to be even more brutally honest, no woman wants to – or will – date a 440 pound man.

And I’m not complaining or crying about this fact. It is what it is, and I can’t fight it. And, actually, now that I’m making forward progress on the health front, I’m not sure I would want to. (But if I met a cool girl tomorrow, I wouldn’t say no!)

While I have never been thin, I graduated high school at about 280-290lbs. At my heaviest, I cranked in around 440lbs. That’s 150lbs I have gained since then. I have packed on an entire person – an entire adult human being – to my frame. Good God, that’s awful now that those numbers are written down and not just floating around my head.

Don’t misunderstand me here. Today’s blog really isn’t a matter of me throwing a pity party (okay, well maybe part of it is). Really, it would be ridiculously easy for me to slip into a major funk and then spend all day listening to my “Melancholic” mix on iTunes (which, to damn myself by admitting, I am listening to right now). The only healthy thing I can do with feelings like these is turn them into fuel that propels me into a better and brighter future.

Do I drive around Portland, wistfully looking at the happy couples while I listen to sad songs, OR do I use this great regret and transform it into anger that I let myself become a four hundred pound fatty who’s been single for half a decade?

Then, do I just let than anger cool or do I fan it into a fire that hardens an iron determination that, by God, I will never repeat this and then march myself up to the gym? Do I shrug and says things will never change and then eat three giant plates at the Chinese buffet, or do I force my future to change and eat healthy?

Granted, some of this is helped ever so slightly by the fact that I haven’t got anyone on my relationship radar. No one. At all. I seem to have the misfortune of meeting girls who love God way more than I do but are as dumber than hoe handles and just as unstable, or I run into really interesting, well read, attractive, witty, cool women who don’t give a rip about their spirituality.

But really, you never know you’ll run into tomorrow or what fortuitous moment the future will bring in only a few hours. While I have totally given up on any hopes of life resembling a romantic comedy (thanks to a piss poor turn of events last December), I don’t want to meet someone interesting (whether that’s in three hours or three years) and have her think, “Wow, Will’s a pretty cool guy. He’s really all about his faith and he’s creative and fun to be with, but.. he’s just so.. big. If he just was, you know, healthier or more athletic, I could really see myself being with him. But, I just don’t know…” Really, who knows who has thought that in the past?

Once again, I force myself to turn all those depressing thoughts into fuel for my better future.I’m already tired of listening to my depressing music mix on iTunes. Screw this. I’m going to the gym. Here’s to a better next five years.

I went out dancing with some friends this weekend, and something I saw impressed me to absolutely no end. There, in the midst of the crowd, I saw a woman dancing with a girl friend. Hey, it’s a club, you say. No big deal. Yeah, except this woman was missing her right arm and about half her forearm.

And there she was, dancing the night away, smiling, and having a perfectly good time.

And there I was, just standing (or, in all actuality, white man dancing) in awe at the sheer amount of internal fortitude she was showing in coming out to the club. Really. Blown away. That’s brass balls like I’ve never seen before (sorry if you find the phrase crass – it’s just about the only way I can put it).

To think I have let so much of my personal appearance insecurities get to me in the past (and up to the present day, for sure). I’m fat. I’m really fat. I have a weird skin condition on my face because I’m so fat. I have bad teeth. I have a giant nose and small, squinty eyes. I’m ugly like a dog… What do I have to complain about, really, in the big picture?

Not too much. And what I have – most of it I can fix.

Kudos to you, dancing lady. Thanks for having fun at the club.

Reporting In

Back to the strict topic of nutrition and exercising, this weekend’s been good. My nutrition’s been right on the money, even if my scheduling hasn’t let me do five small meals. I ate at an Indian buffet after doing some yard work at my bosses’ house Saturday, but made sure to schedule the rest of my day’s nutrition accordingly. Same thing with dinner that night. I ate out with a buddy and cut my sandwich in half and ordered potato salad instead of fries. Not much of a change, per say, but they add up.

So, that leaves my goal of 399 pounds under ten pounds away with two weeks remaining. If I keep my nutrition dead on and my gym times intense, then I think – I know – I’ve got a shot at this.

Then, I take aim at 360 pounds by Independence Day. That gives me sixteen weeks to average in at three pounds a week. Something completely doable. Just gotta hit Goal One first!

Weigh in today. Just check the photo and guess my weight.

Important News: 4xlt is now located at 4xlt.willphillips.org. While the old address will relocate to the new, please update your links and bookmarks. Thanks!

Alright, no McDonald’s today. Or Wendy’s. Or Taco Bell. So, I’ve got a good thing going and will keep it going until I push out my last rep at the gym tonight and hit the hay.

Cooked up two eggs this morning and then went on my way to a business lunch with a youth pastor and his wife. The meeting went great, and I kept my head about me at Red Robin. Lo, the siren’s song of Dr. Pepper song sweetly to my poor ears, but I summoned a mighty fortitude from my warrior’s heart and prevailed. Diet Coke for me. I cut my turkey burger in half and took some home to eat later (having heard rumors that Red Robin’s burgers run in the neighborhood of 900 calories a sandwich).

I figured the fries (obviously) were going to put me over my caloric limit, so I skipped my 2:30 meal and will soon be heading back to the apartment for dinner – the other half of my burger and some veggies.

Tomorrow is weigh-in. We’ll see how it goes.

Alright, day two of tracking my food intake (plus lifts and cardio, but I was doing that already), and it’s already off with a whimper… but it’ll finish with a ten ton megaton bang.

I was in a rush this morning to get up and get out the door to make it to a meeting, so I didn’t have time to cook up a couple eggs. I grabbed a Diet Coke and headed out the door and dropped by McDonald’s for two McMuffin sandwiches. Sure, no big deal.

Until I get a chance to check my calorie .pdfs I downloaded from a few of my “favorite” fast food joints and discover that each sandwich packed 450 calories. That’s 900 calories down in my gullet before nine in the morning. Ungh.

The day’s not over. I just have to get strategic in my food intake until my last two meals to day. I’m not gonna top out over my 2500 mark, even if I blew it this morning. Totally doable.

Right nutrition – go!