Yes, I am a cookie monster. I don’t really have a favorite kind of cookie … just … cookies.

I would pass up a lot of really good food to have a plate of cookies warm right out of the oven. Preferably, they fall apart when you pick them up.

I’m salivating.  Pavlov has nothing on me.

So at work for the past few days there has been this box of cookies on the table in the break room. They’re just THERE. You know what I’m talking about. It’s not that there just there, but in some unknown existential manner they are THERE almost as if they could call out to me. And I’m standing HERE…looking over THERE.

Just one.

I laugh at myself. I just wrote about making decisions. “Just one” is not a decision, it’s the key that opens the floodgate of uncontrollable cookie consumption. Eating one cookie is for me what one kiss in the back seat is to a hormone driven teenager. There’s no stopping.

Day One: I did not eat a cookie.

Day Two.

I planned to eat A cookie. I’m sure that couldn’t hurt much. (Even though I know better!)

I thought about it for a bit. What would it feel like to leave today without eating one of those cookies? What if I didn’t even eat ONE? What if I could sit down at the end of two days of staring down those cookies and write on this blog that i didn’t even lick the icing off of one of them. I didn’t press my finger down into the bottom of the package and taste a few crumbs. What if I could do that?

So, this is what I would write.

I was not defeated.

I DEFEATED the cookies!

That feels good.

HS

The first decision was that I would not abandon my diet this weekend, BUT, would relax a bit some of the restrictions.

If I had never done this before I might have some kind of excuse. But this is a lifelong pattern.

That first decision predictably led to total health disaster weekend. And with no regrets … until tonight. I decided I need to be real and accountable to myself and whoever reads this. It’s a lot easier when you don’t think about it.

And so tomorrow I begin again. Again. Again. Again.

The first decision wasn’t really as I described it. My first decision was to get my health back in order. I second-guessed that decision and made a mess of things.

The first decision is the one I need to stick with. I know how to do it … I just … blew it.

If you read this, thanks.
HS

I have at various times in my life taken up racquetball, jogging, fast walking, and a short lived stint with bike riding (someone stole my bike and I never bought another one). Each time I try one of these activities I start off slow and  work my way up into greater intensity. But it’s been a few years since I’ve tried.

Suffering through a personal tragedy, I spent two years just forgetting about my own health and eating whatever I wanted. That’s left me in bad shape. My knees hurt. My feet hurt. My back hurts. I lose my breath easily. Exercise seems like something I couldn’t attempt without major problems.

Since I’ve been on an eating plan for the past six weeks, though, I’ve felt better. And maybe at some point I’ll be motivated to work my way into an exercise program.

However, more than the physical problems I’ll have to over come is a big mental roadblock.

And as far as I can see, most of this obesity problem is just a mind game. Get your game on in your mind and the rest is simple math.

Your input on these thoughts is always welcome.

HS

After doing so well for several weeks on my eating plan I took a day off. Yeah.

Once I started eating, I never stopped. Snacks, cookies, candy, meals too. Yeah.

Tomorrow I’m gonna feel like crap. I’m going to want to just chunk it all and say to hell with it. Yeah.

Been there a thousand times. I never seem to learn how to eat in moderation.

‘Just have a taste of the things you’re tempted by.’

‘Enjoy all things in moderation.’

‘Having a meal off of your eating plan doesn’t mean the whole day has been shot.’

‘Just say no. Stay on plan, don’t be distracted.’

I hear those things and they make sense. But looking back over the past several hour, they don’t make much sense to me. I’m like a shark. Blood in the water. Intensity. Sounds silly to talk about myself that way, but once I get to it, I can’t seem to stop.

Addiction? Maybe.

Lack of self-control? Definitely.

Although there are several things I never seem to learn, one thing I will do. I’ll start again tomorrow. Because I know a day like this tends to turn into weeks, then months.

Maybe I’m learning …a little.

HS

With the limited amount of weight I have lost this year I already feel a greater interest in being more active.

So I hope it won’t always feel this way. One motive to keep going is that one day I may be able to join the rest of those my age who are enjoying an active lifestyle. Without being embarrassed about it.

HS

What’s hard for me to do is to write about my (addiction, eating problem, obesity, weight problem, etc) lack of self control in relation to God, while not saying that everyone else who has a weight problem ought to view things the same way. I try hard not to wear the robe of judgment, for that job is already taken. So please do not regard this as a condemnation of you (whether you claim Christ or not).

I need to be able to say that one of my motives for losing weight is that I do not think I have honored God very much with my body. Actually I’ve pretty much destroyed this gift He has given me over the course of many years. I doubt I know the stress and damage I have done that has yet to show itself. Other than my knees hurting, my loss of breath in doing the simplest things, my … you know about it all. Or you wouldn’t be reading this.

What is God thinking when he sees me with a plate of food that will further the damage? Does he see the same thing that I see when I see a drug addict going for one more hit? Or an alcoholic who can barely function lifting the bottle to his lips? Does he wince as I chew the fried food, or as I feel the satisfaction of chocolate? Does He cry with me when I feel the guilt of having made my problem worse … or at least delayed yet another day doing something about it?

I do believe in a God of mercy and grace. I’ll never be perfect. But I don’t want to excuse away my decisions. Because every bite is a decision. I’m so good at turning off my God-consciousness long enough to enjoy a meal – but it has a way of turning itself back on later.

Since I have made a commitment to God and I do follow it in so many areas of my life, I want my eating to also be an area where I follow Him.

Yes, one of my motives for losing weight is God.

HS

Really, though, it’s not being left out by others that is my biggest concern. I’m mostly been left out… by myself.

There are so many things I’d like to do that I could do … and would do … but my weight prevents it. And has prevented it for years.

The last flight I took was total misery and I decided not to fly again. That’s just one example.

Not a long post … and not a deep thought … but just a reflection for a moment that there are many things in life I wouldn’t dare do. And I’m the reason why.

So I have to be the reason why this is reversed.

HS

Who gave this desire such great power in my life? I am angry that after I’ve had a very filling meal that I would still sniff around the pantry wondering what else is in there.

I’m angry that I feel a little taste of something isn’t enough and I’d rather not have it. I want the platter full. I want the second dessert.

I’m angry at what submitting to this power has done to my body, my family, my work, my wife, my friends.

I’m angry that being this size has so overpowered me that it is my identity.

And yet I’m not angry enough to set it aside and move on without it. This desire to eat has so infiltrated my life that I feel …

*I cannot drive without it

*I cannot read without it

*I cannot watch a movie without it

*I cannot hold a conversation without it

*I cannot wake up without thinking about it

*I do not go to bed without thinking about it

*I sometimes daydream about eating and actually open my mouth to take a bite

This has become so huge it almost seems overpowering.

I know, however, that it is not overpowering. It is my choice. And I can defeat this desire to eat.

But I won’t lie to myself. It has a lot of power. Check out Erica’s story.

HS

Does it matter why? I think it probably does. In another person’s body we might decide to not eat at all. Or to cut ourselves. Or to engage in endless relationships. Or to abuse drugs or alcohol. Maybe you do some of those things too. But if you’re like me, it’s eating. I don’t judge people who do those other things. We live in a hurting world and the search for relief leads us into some ugly places.

I am a person of faith and I do believe that this helps me…when I let it. I’m pretty good at defensively heading off all help so that I can eat. So, I don’t know if you, dear reader, are a person of faith or you’re listening to some wise counsel Are you hearing some voice that is is telling you to get out of this trap? If so, then open the door of your heart you’ve been guarding and hear it.

Does it matter why? Yes … and no. Because for most of us the “why” is sometime in the past. Today I have decisions to make. And no matter what decisions I made yesterday or last year or whenever, today is where I am.

HS

It’s my job because I know that people look down on folks my size. When you top out over 300 lbs you take up a lot of real estate. When I walk into a room or sit down at a table, everyone notices. People across the room notice. I’m sure people say things … at least think them. Paranoid? Maybe. But I don’t think so. I think it’s my job to be funny to earn my place at the table. Funny fat people can be overlooked. We’re just jolly you know. I can be funny. But it’s not funny.

It’s my job to be funny because everyone knows how unhealthy all of this is. If I can be funny, then for a moment we can all forget that I’m killing myself. If I get in a crowd that’s talking about exercising and running … I’ve got the one liners to cover it. And once I let those out, everyone relaxes. It’s my job to dissuade them that I’ve got quite a battle going on. It’s funny. But it’s not funny.

It is my job to be funny because I need to avoid at all costs the truth that eating is my addiction. It’s not really the food, it’s more just the eating. More on that in another post. But if I’m being funny, and thinking of my next zinger, then I’m not thinking about what I’m putting in my mouth. And what it’s doing to me.

Really. It’s not funny.

HS