Ted’s essays

losing it

Over the last couple of years, my mealtime portions shrunk significantly, seconds stopped and most of my lovely, wonderful carbohydrates have been cut back dramatically to a shadow of their former, joyous selves.

But relentlessly, month-by-month, my aging metabolism has reduced my inspiration to burn the necessary calories that would keep my waistline contained in my pants utilizing only the size I want to wear.

Couple that with a digital scale that is pretty-darn merciless in explaining loud and clear what the mirror has been trying to tell me.

It was the scale that finally, well, tipped the scale.

The dang thing tried to warn me off, but I wouldn’t listen.

Finally it screamed, 199.5.

Oh no!


I will NOT see the number 2 at the left side of my weight measurement. That is NOT okay.

January 1st was good timing for multiple reasons. The jar ran dry that contained my home-made trail mix supply with all those wonderful, organic, raw nuts and dried fruits that I snacked on whenever my body suggested that more fuel would be handy.

I did not refill. No more snacks after dinner. No more between meal touch-ups.

And, furthermore, NO MORE LUNCH.

Two meals a day. Period.

That feeling that I heretofore considered to be a “feed me alarm” was merely a feeling. World-wide, lots of people feel that quite often. I can handle that. It won’t kill me to experience that feeling. There is absolutely no risk of me wasting away anytime in the near future.

My new eating pattern is late breakfast with Missy who has reverted to swingshift patterns. Then dinner together. Coffee, water and wine are all I get in-between, mostly water. So a meal around 1000 and another around 1900. Fifteen hours between one pair and 9 on the other end. Two fasts. Two break-fasts.

Many laud the benefits of fasting. I have always ignored that foolish talk. But there definitely appears to be something useful in teaching my body to run on fat reserves.

Hoo-da-thunk? Running on fat reserves burns off fat.

Six weeks into the program and I’m down 10 pounds.

Forty two days from 199.5 to 189.5. Cool.

I was kinda hoping for a pound a week. Looks like that goal is imminently doable, though I am sure the rate of change will taper off as the volume of reserves as a percentage of the whole diminishes. Nevertheless, a summer-time body by summer appears to be well within reach.

I still do not like that mid-day feeling. I have yet to embrace it with pleasure. But I am getting the desired result, so I seem able to keep it going for now.

Keep my eye on the prize.

I want the mirror to quit calling me “chubby” or “comfortable”.

And I have a couple of shirts that I would like to fit easily into.