So, I’m 197 lbs now. In April, I was 185 lbs. I really should put together some pics or something. I am proud since last year I was 200 lbs with a waistline stretching 38″. I was going through a chub phase. That was fine for football. But then football f-cked up my shoulders (the blocking guidelines are retarded). The gym fell away since my shoulders hurt terribly and I really was adrift. A good friend, T, reminded me that if I wanted to be able to help other people (like bf) I needed to take care of myself (in the name of Oprah, Reform!). It clicked and I’ve been very assiduous and disciplined in my diet, sleep, and training for the past few months. Now, I’m 197 w/34″ waist. The faint lines of the six pack are discernible in infrared light and I figure in another month or so I should be able to see them in moonlight.

What are the goals? Well, I’d like to see what 250 lbs feels like, but for now I’m shooting for a nice, solid 220 by the end of the year. Ultimately, (this fills me with dread and bewilderment simultaneously) I’m planning to compete in the Gay Games 2010 bodybuilding exhibition. It will be in Cologne, Germany–the fatherland, as it were. I will be 39, so I should be ripe for either a breakdown or midlife crisis, take your pick.

Deep Thoughts

I’ve been wrestling with this weird emotion, pride. And I am just noticing how debilitating my cynical nature is. I’ll never finish anything. I will fail. You know, the usual pep talk. This pride that I’ve only recently cultivated is extremely fragile. I don’t say anything explicitly about the discipline needed to eat, sleep and train properly, but I am pleased with my determination. I’m also pleased with the results so far. Oh, it’s not at all iron-clad and perfectly consistent, but it’s generally consistent. And when I fall down (skip a day of proper eating, taking a day off from the gym, skipping the cardio), I just get up and try again. Amazing.

My fairy princess, R, might mock me for finally squaring off with my own rampant depression (since I’ve accused her of the same), and there is probably much truth in my coping as a depressive. The weird part is that I’m starting to feel the tendrils of depression before they really grab hold. I’m a little less hysterical when I feel my obsessive-compulsiveness start to click on. I listen closely for the doomed soliloquies that will throw me into a catatonia. I’m allowed to be bored with work and still find a goal to strive for. I’m allowed to be horny and frustrated about it. I’m learning to say, “It doesn’t have to be perfect, it can’t possibly always be this bad, just try to get some of it done and see where you are in fifteen minutes, etc.” Yeah, they’re cheap affirmations but if I say them quietly enough I fool myself into deeming them profound.

TNTBA (Topics not to be addressed): Planning & Procrastinating; Why Kayne’s Dress Wasn’t That Hideous; Don’t Let the Door Hit You In The Ass, Vincent; Laura’s Dress: Both Laura & Boring, Who’da Thunk?; My nephew-Puppy is Frickin’ CUTE!

I hate the word “cutting”. I also hate the word “dieting”. I would hate to admit that the French are right and that Americans no longer enjoy food but consume it for nutritional or psychological need alone. The French believe that you don’t need to think about proportions or calories. Just eat in moderation, walk more often, and take your time. I am assuming those French who are speaking are rich that have the time to spend in such a way. I hate the French (yes, yes, I’m part French too). But I want to be able to eat wholesome, simple food that tastes pretty good and helps me lose that 10% of bodyfat in the next 8 weeks. Wait a minute, did that sound like a goal?

Other obsessions: Do I need to buy “The Abs Diet” book that I do not need and is simply another distraction–why work out when you can read and plan? Or am I buying it to have a better sense of foods to buy and eat? Will it address my obsession of counting calories or can I swear that off too? I’ve always hated to count calories since I fail to record regularly and then lambast myself, “Ope, missed another meal, bucko!” How do I get exorcise demon? It’s an epiphany to read that I don’t need to count calories, that’s what The Abs Diet boys are promising. Maybe, I’ll need to plan meals and count calories for the week? Oh, but what happens when I forget the plan? I’m a mess.

The week has been very busy thus far, been wanting to write about many things and my experiences with my dad up north. But as Graham Norton has often remarked, ” No time, no time”… I’m going to make the blog more of the daily synopsis of the previous day’s doing and the coming day’s plans for now as to prime my juices:

Yesterday:
- Started the colossal task of cleaning the office.
- Dealt with an ancient Dell notebook whose HD is overheating.
- Ironed t-shirts because I’m tired of looking wrinkled.
- Had too many portions of macroni / pasta sauce.
- Hooted and chortled through Project Runway at home.
- Got the sheets washed (gods know when that last occured).
- Got P’s cage cleaned (and he nearly danced in his new litter).
- Went through 20 lbs. of newspaper, mags, & ads for recycling.

Today:
- The Quest of Ironing continues
- Finish the Labors of Laundry? (7 loads? Why not?)
- Write to MM and buck her up.
- Steaks for dinner at 6:30.
- Client visits here and there.
- Billiing (week behind, not too bad, but that sort of thinking is how it starts)
- Mail purge.
- Remember to keep my intentions simple and clear.
- Prune the list as necessary without getting angry or disappointed.

Cheers