My Weakness, My Worst Friend

20 minutes on the treadmill, a simulated 2 miles covered in that time. Not great, but at least I'm getting in there and fighting the downward spiral back to butterball country. I've been holding at about 80 kilos for a while now, but that number is deceiving because I've been gaining fat and losing muscle pretty steadily for about a year and a half now. I don't have the strength or vitality I did even a year ago and I'm visibly fatter than I was six months ago.

Part of what's going on with me is complacency. I've had some attention from the opposite sex on occasion in the last half year, and I'm also well-disabused of the notion that I need to be with a woman to be complete. So why not just let myself go to the dogs?

For one thing, it's not just a matter of vanity. If I am going to continue to consume the oxygen we all need and take the nutrients from other living beings, I should be useful. To be useful, I need to be strong and disciplined--in the best sense of the word, not like a beaten dog.

I guess I'm looking for integrity. There is a tremendous gap between my intentons and ideals and my actions and outcomes. I'm not good at making commitments and I often avoid making any to pre-empt any chance of flaking. The problem is that I'm getting very skilled at not doing anything and I'm getting away with it. This is not a recipie for being the sort of person I'd like to believe I am or can be.


Hey! We met at Burning Man. But you know this, I guess. You also now know what a neglectful email correspondent I am, too.

I see we have at least one thing in common -- the flight from Butterball Territory. I've been walking, mostly, home from work, regardless of weather, a distance of almost 3 miles, and my legs are certainly stronger, but I need to work my upper body and middle, too. I do not want to join a gym. I loathe gyms. And yet my apt is such a crummy place to exercise.

I'm glad you're not just interested in being fit for the sake of sex and vanity. I am to some extent, of course, but mainly I'd like to be able to move my furniture again this summer without injuring myself.

Anyway, good to see you about. :-)

Haha! Yes, I figured out who you are. I'm a perrennially bad correspondent myself, so no worries. I seem to remember promising you a drawing of the Temple of Joy that remains half-finished, so please accept my apologies.

I'd be a oh-so-lying to say that the sake of sex and vanity don't come into the picture. I've been reminding myself again and again that if I'm going to run around naked at Burning Man again that I'd prefer to be a bronzed Adonis or something. Or at least not a shambling blob.

But I actually like the gym. I like it so much I never get there because I'm always doing the things I'm "supposed to" do instead of the things I want to do. I used to hate the gym, but then I had a profound psychic change when my ex dumped me a couple years ago and I turned into a bitter misogynist. It was a great place to torture myself. Part of the problem is that I don't have the self-loathing that helped me lose 50 pounds in 2001.

Of course any sentence that calls it a "problem" to not have as much self-loathing is suspect, but no lie, when I was miserable like that I got to the gym very regularly. Been trying to find that motivation without the depression and suicidal ideation, but some things are easier said than done =^)

Anyhow, good to see you too--don't be a stranger!