The Chronicles Of A Loser

My only two blogs for the month of July thus far have been indicative of my month in general; angering, irritating, expressing disgust with women and the crap they put me through. Today warrants a different kind of feeling, however, one of achievement, a sense of can-do with a little bit of "f*** the haters, I'm getting better." That comes from the random moments of vanity when my body seems to show me another improvement or a different scope of how far I've come since New Years Day 2006. There was a time when viewing my feet was out of the question. I remember it well, I'd look down and just see belly. I remembered that episode of the Simpsons long ago when Homer could no longer read his weight on the scale due to the fact his gut was obstructing his view. That was a sore spot for me among other bodily issues that I didn't see fit to try and change until I got tired of being ripped on for my size and of course the complete horror I felt when I stepped on the automated scale 01/01/06 and saw three dreaded numbers that I would vow to NEVER see again.

Flash forward to this past weekend. As usual, my weekends are rather aimless and full of random, the perks of being in between college and hopefully soon enough, the working world. I stepped on something in my bedroom and looked down to see what it was, when it happened. Ten toes and a little bit of skin were visible to my four eyes. I thought it was a product of me being bent slightly in natural form, but I stood straight, lowered my eyes and got the same results. I am well on my way to getting rid of my hangover; my belly hangs over my pants. NO MORE! It's a great feeling. Along with various reflective windows along my walking path around Dover, I can take a look and see that my silhouette is no longer that of Alfred Hitchcock, but that of someone who's coming down a lot in his weight.

I can safely say (although there's a week left in July, I won't get too far ahead of myself, lol) that when I step on the scale the morning of August 1st, my weight will start with a 2 for the first time since the summer of 2000, which was the last time I went on a mission to drop some pounds. That was my first time being that doggone heavy and the shock scared me into about 40-45 pounds of weight loss that summer. I picked it back up that fall and then some over the next five years, which led to me deciding to get myself together, year round. Even if I do have to spend some time at home once I leave school in the middle of August, I'm working on a plan so I don't fall off and ruin the great gains I've made so far.

I'm definitely of the understanding that I still have a long way to go in all facets of my body and my mind. The challenge of toning up the areas where I've lost weight still looms overhead, as well the will and the desire to continue to eat healthy and not stuff my face with the food I loved so much (which will definitely be at my disposal at home), and to keep the general focus and optimism I didn't even know I had until I started this entire routine.

I remember when I was packing for school last August and I packed up three pairs of jeans that I didn't even try to squeeze into because I knew they were a lost cause. I only put them in there just by chance. I thought about it and said "I'm gonna make at least one pair of these wearable again. I have to." 11 months later, all three pairs are loose, comfortable, and yep you guessed it, wearable.

Being a loser in this case isn't a bad thing at all.