"The human mind treats a new idea the same way the body treats a strange protein; it rejects it." -- Peter B. Medawar
Speaking of proteins, I'm building even more muscle. But even though I'm building muscle, I'm still losing weight -- slow and steady wins the marathon. Another 5 pounds so far this month which brings my total lost to (drum roll, please)... 76 POUNDS! I know, I know, one has to be quite large in order to lose that much, and I still have a ways to go.
But shit, man, that's a lot of hard work. I am transforming my body, and it takes a lot of time and effort. I can lift a cart-load of groceries like nobody's business now. I can lunge my way down the street and bound up the stairs two at a time.
I will be entering my 30s the healthiest I've ever been in my life. This weekend, my birthday present to me, a present I have worked on long and hard, diligent and steadfast, is that 76 pounds. As of today, I am one pound shy of the LIE of my weight on my driver's license, a lie that was first recorded when I turned 16. Wait till you see my high school pictures. Oh, yeah, I'm gonna put it all out there.
But one thing that is still as clear as polished glass, is that regardless of how much I weigh, I'm me. And when I'm running on the ellyptical (or however you spell it), with the resistance turned up ridiculously high and sweat pouring down my face, I am thinking of the comeback that entered my head but never left my lips whenever someone dissed me for being fat: I can lose the weight, but you'll always be an asshole.
The proof is in the protein pudding, with only 100 calories and 2 grams of carbs. Throughout my years of fathood, which still continue, even though the time is now limited, I have always believed one thing -- a thing I have journaled in my diaries since I was 17. I would rather be fat and ME than skinny and someone else. That has proved truer with each year, with each person I meet.
Let's put it this way -- I like myself. Bitchy, sad or happy, skinny or fat, with a pimple on my forehead or clear, smooth skin. Because that which comprises ME has nothing to do with any of that temporary surface shit. And those who are ruled by that surface shit, are sad sacks of the same.
So, the moral of the story? There is none. Who do I look like, Aesop?
I hope you have a GREAT weekend! Mine will be filled with family and friends, with my partner at my side, smiles and laughter, and all the good stuff of life.