Yipes it’s been awhile since I did this, huh, guys?
The weekly monitoring took a huge hit about two months ago and I haven’t quite recovered. My fat is like the economy: not beaten just yet, not shrinking at the rate we thought it would. Thankfully, I don’t show nearly the signs of growth.
That said, I have to get more diligent and get back on track with even healthier decisions. My water consumption tapered off and my meals-per-day for the past two months became pathetic. I was still working out, and I continue to, but the general approach has much more malaise in it, much more of a maintenance feeling. I have noticed significant loss in my weight-lifting regimen and my abdominal exercises are nowhere near as proficient as they were. Also, running hasn’t come along as quickly as it should.
So why the title up there?
That’s why. Today, for the first time in eight years, Jeans that actually fit me in high school (and weren’t four size too big, as was the style. Thanks a lot, 1990s) fit again. I tried because I’ve maintained a consistent weight less than 215 since getting back from PAX and I felt smaller. To make sure the stylistic differences weren’t atrocious, I trucked out to a clothing store and tired on a pair of jeans one size up so as not to destroy my ego. They were appropriately too large. Regular fit and everything. So I went and grabbed the dreaded Size of The Past. You might say I seized the size if you were a doucher like me.
Short version: they fit. I up and bought ’em. Those of you who have known me for an extended period of time are literally blown away that I now own several pairs of jeans that I have not had for more than 5 years. I own several shirts and sweaters that I did not receive at Christmas from my super fashionable aunt and her super fashionable daughters. This is largely celebratory in most cases. Which I openly acknowledge is possibly foolhardy! Because ye the jeans giveth, and ye, doth thine fat taketh away. It’s an endless battle.
But this post from Dillen almost had me hold off on the celebratory thing because I still know I have a long way to go. I can accept being hefty, even slightly overweight. I’m never going to be some kind of Adonis (it doesn’t match my personality, really) posing for American Eagle with a douchey Van Dyke and steely blue eyes. (It’s possible that amount of detail bordered on homoerotic, and I’m okay with that.)
But I can keep at it. With other things in my life looking up every day, it’s getting easier to say “no, I do want to be healthier.”
…I did get a bowl from the Chai-Poodles today, though. And it was delicious.
Also, feel free to tell me if the phrase “that’s hot like whoa” is douchey. It’s a thing I’m debating. What if I’m using it ironically, the way hipsters did before you heard about it?
Fill me in, dear readers. I need to know.