Losing Leonard

A Story About Shrinking

(Meaning We're Talking about Weight Loss Stuff)

So I started a new weight loss/get healthy(er) program the other week.  Thanks to things like age and the fact that I don't walk across a campus and teach all day anymore, I was weighing more than I ever have before in my life.  I'm five-foot-three-and-a-half, people!  (And with a "small frame" if you believe those BMI chart thingies.)  I should not have the same "ideal" weight as a six-foot-tall man.

People said I "still looked great" when I would casually mention this and while I mostly believe them, the important thing for me was that my clothes were starting to not fit or be tight or uncomfortable or (worse yet) fairly unflattering.  And I simply don't have the budget to buy a whole new wardrobe to fit my expanding belly and booty and boobs (and other body parts that don't start with the letter "b").  And some of my current clothes are really cute, dammit!  I don't want to get rid of them.

And my previous ideas of using MyFitnessPal to log my meals and trying to work out wasn't cutting it.  Frankly, because I wasn't doing it (especially the "working out" part).  And this new program promised to help me build healthy, long-lasting habits which are (apparently) key to not only losing weight, but keeping it off.

One of the big things with this program is to celebrate my wins/successes/whatever.  That's not easy for me.  I mean, I will definitely toot my own horn about my awesomeness in other arenas, but talking about these goals/wins, especially since some of them are so tiny, feels weird for me.  It may be in part because I've never struggled with my weight before; I've never had to worry about what I eat.  I've always been curvy (read:  "BOOBS, I have 'em"), but I've also always been slender/properly proportioned.  But you know the old story:  you hit 30 or 35 and your metabolism suddenly says, "Well, that was fun!" and packs its bags, abandoning you mid-snack-break.

So this is me, trying to celebrate some "wins" and healthy habits.  For example:  I've been eating apples -- grabbing one on the way out the door to have as a mid-morning snack, having one as a side with my lunch instead of chips or bread.

And let me tell you, that is a BIG DEAL because I love me some crunchy, savory, salty, delicious carbs.  Keep your sweets, your desserts, your chocolate and cakes and ice cream.  Hand me a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine, and I'll be a happy camper.  

Don't mistake me; this program doesn't say to cut anything out entirely or to deny yourself things.  It's more about moderation; "moderation in all things," as Aristotle taught us.  So, y'know, I'm not supposed to eat just the bread, or ALL the bread ALL the time.

Today I ordered my lunch (before walking the 0.6 miles, roundtrip, to pick it up and come back to the office), and I hesitated.  I almost picked that delicious side of French baguette to go with my turkey chili.  I really, really wanted it.  And I can have it, remember!  Just not all the time.  And then I remembered that I'm planning on making pot roast with potatoes and carrots and gravy for dinner this evening, so maybe I should save some of my carbs and calories for that and holy shit another healthy habit just happened!

Planning ahead, also filed under "Shit I'm Not Good At."  

I don't plan ahead (food-wise).  I don't "meal prep."  I haven't been looking ahead at my calorie allotment for the day and planning accordingly -- or planning at all. 

But look at that!  Up there!  I just did it!  Go me!

So I ordered my apple and was a little proud of myself.  And I walked to the restaurant (0.3 miles, per Google Maps) to pick it up and then walked back to my office again (0.6 miles total because math).  And I opened my bag to get out my bowl of turkey chili and there was my apple, happy to see me.  But what's that?  The bag is still heavy?  I look inside, and the restaurant also gave me the chunk of French baguette (equally happy to see me).

Curse you, and your accidental carbohydrate generosity, restaurant!

I won't be eating either item anytime soon as I'm thankfully I'm stuffed from lunch -- well, not "thankfully."  The goal is to feel satisfied, not "stuffed" or uncomfortably full.

Today's Pro-Tip:  if you're also getting a smoothie, you probably only need a cup of soup rather than a bowl.

So now the apple and the bread are both just sitting on my desk, staring at me, possibly judging me.  #SuspiciousStillLife

Please note:  this post is not a request for tips or advice, nor is it an advertisement for said program.  If you want info on it, just message me directly.

Nietzsche Called

Every day is a question.
How many existential crises can one man have?
I cannot help you if you don't let me.
If you silence me.
If you ignore me.

Crisis crisis crisis
Question question question

Yes, please, question authority
But questioning everything simply for

       the sake

       of

       questioning

negates
     all
          answers.
I don't have an emoji for that.

I'm beginning to suspect
You just like the drama.

On the Subject of Hashtags

Oh, hashtags.  We have such a complicated relationship, you and I.  As a rule, Leonard tries to avoid them.  Hashtags, to the best of my understanding, are/were a way to categorize posts and things.  For instance, this post is marked with "labels," "social media," "hashtags," and "David Tennant," among other things.  (For the record, though, Blogger does not refer to them as hashtags; it says "labels.")

And I get that.  If I want to search for posts -- particularly on Twitter or Tumblr -- on a specific topic, tags are very useful.  I can find all the David Tennant fan fiction I could ever possibly want that way¹.

But what about hashtags on posts on/in forums or social media platforms that don't really use that feature (read:  Facebook)?  And what about the hashtags we simply make up?  Is anyone really going to go searching for #thatmomentwhenItrippedinfrontofmyboss?  Or how about #sorrymythesisisshowing?  What is it we're doing with hashtags that we simply couldn't do with the text itself?

The last two examples -- hashtags we make up -- Leonard actively tries to avoid, on the principle that they defeat the purpose of a hashtag.  So why do we use them?  Is it like giving a subtitle to your post?  They are often funny, one-liners (or "one-phrasers"), something witty or clever or snarky, a rim shot or stinger to one's post (#askingforafriend and #sorrynotsorry are the only ones I can think of right now).  Sometimes they seem to be instructing the reader what to think or feel about that particular post.  So why use a hashtag to do that?  Why not use the text of the post itself?  I often stop myself when there is an itch to use a hashtag and ask, Why am I doing this?  What am I trying to accomplish?  If the post isn't funny without the hashtag, or if the reader does not come to the intended conclusion, then I'm doing something wrong in my writing.  (Usually².)

Do hashtags in their current form accomplish something rhetorically or textually that we couldn't otherwise do?  These are the the things that keep Leonard up at night -- that, and acid reflux.  Please weigh in with your thoughts regarding hashtags.

¹ Not really.  Maybe.  #AskingForAFriend
² Or maybe you're just reading it wrong!  Leonard does sometimes give in to the hashtag temptation.  C'mon, the hashtag #DroidsMoisturize is funny!

3:30 a.m. Thoughts: Karmic Credit Plan

My Unit and I often disagree about the workings of the Universe or "fate" or whatever you'd like to call it (neither of us are "God" or religious people).  She tends to believe that things happen for a reason -- all things -- often in ways we don't realize or that aren't immediately apparent. (I did write up a story of when I saw this philosophy in action, but I can't find it at the moment). I tend to be a "Sometimes shit just happens" person, especially when I cannot see a reason in what has transpired.

My favorite recent example is #lightningcar.  There is no good reason for lightning to strike one's car.  In the almost month that followed, trying to get my car fixed, I could find no "good" thing to come of it.  It did not lead to any new opportunities (as weird things often can).  It just happened.   It happened, and it sucked.  (Yes, I'm fine; I was not in the car when lightning hit, but nearby in my house.)

This morning around 3:30 a.m., unable to fall asleep, I had an astounding (and horrifying) thought:  what if, when bad shit does happen, the reason is on the other side of the world?  Somewhere, far away from me, is a person to whom good things are happening -- things over which they have no control or maybe even things they don't appear to deserve.  In order to keep balance in the Universe, the payment has to come from somewhere, so BAM!  Lightning strikes my car.  Or a person gets rear-ended at a stoplight.  Or you spill your morning coffee all over your new outfit.  Your mileage may vary, but you get my point.

People who we think are "lucky"  or people to whom good things happens, especially if/when they don't appear to have "earned" them, are perhaps just on the plus column of Karma's checks and balances.  People who seem to have bad luck, those of us who just can't catch a break -- we're paying the price for the people above.  The payment (or energy) has to come from somewhere, right?

There's a tiny bit of comfort in knowing that my (or your) bad day, bad luck, random shit that happens, could be because someone out there is finally getting the break deserve; there's (teeny) comfort in having a reason why things happen.
There's a terror and horror in the realization that we have no control over this system of checks and balances; that there may be no rhyme or reason why who gets what, so long as it all balances in the end.

And that, kids, is why I've been awake since the wee hours of the morning.