When I was growing up my parents were very aware of my weight. My Dad, who was of average stature, wanted me to be above 6 feet tall because he never would be. My Mom was from good Irish farm girl stock and was prone togain weight, especially when she was stressed. Since she was (I suspect) bi-polar she was under stress a lot and, by extension, gained/lost weight on a regular basis. She and my sister were early adopters of the Weight Watcher program and it did them good service over the years.
Much to my chagrin I garnered my weight gain genes from my Mom and as such have struggled with my size my entire life. I loved my Dad and miss him terribly, but at the same time I can remember his comments from the other room when I was growing up, whenever he detected a fluxation in my waistline:
“So what do you weigh these days? 300 lbs? 400?
It was said in jest but my folks used humor for a lot of things, an unsubtle bludgeon to make a point was often one of them. When I gained weight I heard about it. This is why when I had an accident in the mountains at 21 that required me to have my jaw wired shut for a month, subsequently losing half of my body mass in two months, I quietly thought of it as a godsend. I managed to keep the weight off for a lot of years, until I became a computer artist and started commuting half the day, listening to books on tape and developing an unhealthy relationship with McDonalds. Before I moved to Santa Monica I was a regular bike rider and windsurfer, unfortunately I moved in with a pal who made it an almost religious quest to get me, who was impressionable and externally validated, to adopt his life of sartorial splendor that involved trips to FATBURGER (a real place for those of you outside So Cal) and evening eating mac and cheese out of a pot.
There were times I got desperate and resorted to pills I will admit. I never did “Black Beauties” or any sort of pharmacological speed but I did use the early forms of herbal weight loss aides, all of them liberally laced with Ephedrine. I can thank the purveyors of those products for my pacemaker and leaky heart valves, as well as the terrifying sharp pains I get late at night when I am under a lot stress. I only stopped under duress after my brother(in-law) Jeff took the pills away from me after a session at Sears Point. He said my metabolish was so pumped that when I took my helmet off after a practice session my face was LITERALLY lobster red. Thanks Jeff, you have always been a great friend.
So work is finally settling down for me, I have a studio to work out of and (eventually) will have a reliable car. Time to set my sights on my waistline. Lot hard to do, there is so much of it. So I started back on Weight watchers last week, stuck to it (loosely) this past week and was rewarded with a 1.4 lb weight gain. I am adjusting my intake and sticking to it though, really don’t have much choice. I get the pains at night when I lay myself down in the WESTY and find myself wondering how long it would take, were I to actually kick off, for anyone to actually notice I was gone. I will admit it makes me sad to think that it has come to this but in the end I have only myself to blame, external influences are, after all, jsut that. INFLUENCES. I made my own decisions and I both own thm and live with them.
Right now I make the decision to live on.