143

I've admittedly got a mental block against dieting. I've never been truly unhappy with my weight or physical appearance before. I've had the luxury of eating what I want, when I want for most of my life - which is, additionally, active and happy. I like cocktails; I love dessert. I smoke pot so as to more deeply enjoy the crunch of cookies when I'm stoned. I enjoy restaurants; indulging in and reviewing 3-hour tasting menus by famous French chefs is one of my favorite hobbies.

So when F told me to read that book - the Tom Venuto one full of anorexic adages ("Nothing tastes as great as thin feels" or "Hunger is the feeling of fat cells dying") - I was offended. I am thin. People have been jealous of my physique my whole life. I'm 5'11 inches, and a very consistent 143 pounds. My thinness occurs (luckily?)  in the most observable regions of my chest, neck and shoulders, such that when I drift below 140, I look sunken, even though my thighs and belly look fine. 

So why do I want to lose 10 pounds? F suggested that I find some mental strategies, so I decided to put into writing the goals I have, and why.

1. The challenge. I like quantitative goals, traceable progress, numerical benchmarks. I like it when the numbers on the treadmill move. That's probably not the best reason to run (or to lose weight), but I'm not really interested in dropping clothing sizes (generally a 2 or 4), and 10 pounds seems like a substantial and difficult thing to do.

2. It's a feminine weight. Big girls have complexes with regards to the size of the opposite gender. I'm not -usually- heavier than my mate these days, but boy, in high school and in college, it was a trial not to be. There's some residual longing to be the type of girl that looks slight next to a man; the kind that they could catch handily in a swoon, or throw over their shoulder without throwing out their backs.

3. I'm not really sure I'd "look better naked" (or who I'd be looking better for), but if it's actually liable to happen, then I guess I'm down. 3. falls far, far below 1. and 2.

Now. Why do I eat more than I need to?

1. To prove that I can. This is a point of pride, and changing this part of my person will be hard, and furthermore, distasteful. I hate girls who count calories. I look down upon people who worry about their weight. I want to show that I'm not like them.

2. To reward myself. I celebrate successes at work, and in life, with food. I even celebrate good dieting with good food.

3. Out of boredom. It doesn't occur to me to feel hungry when I'm out and about, which should be easier given the weather's turned so nice.

. . . and how to fix?

1.
-Dine less with other people. Less with men, whose impressions, and women, certainly, whose jealousyies I revel in.
-Don't smoke pot. Just. . . don't. Once the social and dietary inhibitions go, I'm really fucked.

2.
-What's a better reward? I hate buying shit, and there's no pressing list of material possessions that I covet. Will have to think on this one. 

3.
-Cake.

On the business of concessions

I think we have to draw the line somewhere. Sorry F, but if I'm going to make a real mental commitment, I can't be calorie counting. It's . . . gay. I promise (myself) to do better, but the accountability's gotta be internalized, and not via FitDay.com.