About 3 days ago, my wife said to me, "Aren't you going to blog again?!  [A mutual friend] has been asking..."  I'm stunned to see that my last blog entry was about 3 weeks ago!  I'm so sorry!  I'll do my best to get you up to speed:

The folks finally left and we pawned four plates of Christmas cookies off on our (at least externally) greatful neighbors.  ("Happy Holidays!  Looks like you could use a little MEAT on your bones!  Have some cookies!")

A few days of being disgusted with myself and my weight gain ended January 1st.  I'm not sure what it is about a new year that spawns new beginnings, be it the "fresh slate" mentality or what have you, but Jan 1, my wife and I seemed to wake up refocused and have been building better habits (with some minor deviations to be confessed in a few paragraphs) ever since.

New Habit Numero Uno:  For those of you unfortunate enough to suffer through my blog since its beginning, you may remember I was ambushed by a friend and tricked into attending what I affectionately called "my fat class in the church basement".  (You can read up on my initial thoughts here.)  While I'm not re-enrolling, I did locate my textbook, and have been religiously reading portions of it daily.  It's remarkable what a little daily encouragement and reminders can do to help one stay on track.  (Amazing insights, to be sure!) 

One of the primary thrusts of the book is that the farther a food has been processed from it's natural state, the less healthy it is for you.  When I think about it, it makes total sense.  Even "good" foods can be processed beyond their usefulness.  One way or another, you body has to process what you put into it.  You body naturally knows how to deal with a carrot, but what sort of chemical gymnastics must it have to perform in order to metabolize Polysorbate 60, Phenylalanine, or Methylchloroisothiazolinone?  (I can just hear Tawa Chihuahua smiling and sending me an affectionate "DUH!")  

What has this lead to?  We're EATING SO MUCH BETTER and therefore we FEEL SO MUCH BETTER!  And that's not even counting the satisfaction that we're just treating our bodies better.  It's been truly remarkable.

New Habit #2:  We're both working out.  My wife has rediscovered her pilates DVDs and has been exercising at least as much as me.  She's showing much more dramatic results than I am in the arena of physical changes, so my jealousy is tempered by the simple fact... that she's lookin' HOT!  (GrrrrRRRRrrr!!)  Having a workout buddy (even if we're not doing it at the same time) is such a shot in the arm. 

New Habit #3:  I'm getting to bed on time.  TV is a robber.  It robs me of my time and sleep, and therefore prevents me from accomplishing what I know I need to do.  I've been flicking off the tube and in some cases, getting to sleep before 10pm (which is practically unheard of for me during adulthood).  This has enabled me to get up early (many days waking up before my alarm goes off!) in order to get my workouts in and plan decent breakfast and lunch before either of my little ladies start tugging at me.  When I'm home and they're awake, I want to dedicate as much of my attention to them as I can, therefore, exercise gets pushed to the background.  The only time I've found to consistently be "mine" is either late at night (and my personal history demonstrates that late-nite is not a time when my good habits shine), or early morning.  The "early to bed, early to rise proverb" seems to be working... 

I haven't weighed in a week or so, but at last check, I was back in the 250s.  Yay.  I'd be thrilled to be in the 230s by vacation time, but I'm not holding my breath.  I'll just do what I can.

Best wishes to you all.  Thanks for the loving kicks in the pants, too!  I deserve it!  I'll be checking in with you when I can. 

I saw a billboard for a giant fitness club cartel this week:  “Don’t just survive the holidays… THRIVE!”  Yeah.  They’ve obviously not done Christmas with my family.

My folks and sister have been staying with us for a week, and it’s been a great visit, especially considering the old adage that “fish and houseguests stink after three days”.  You may recall from prior posts that in my family culture, FOOD = LOVE.  Mom, bless her, has been plying us with love all week.  She brought (I kid you not) 20 DOZEN CHRISTMAS COOKIES.  Mom, I ask you, how in the world are 6 people supposed to even put a dent in that mound of carbolicious temptation?!  SHEESH!  Take a confessed food-a-holic, combine with a roving platter of Christmas cookies (that follows you around the house), stir in near constant admonitions to “EAT—EAT!!”, mix with 4 holiday get-togethers in 5 days (one of which was quite stressful – I won’t elaborate because I’d just rather forget it – rest assured it was accompanied by the obligatory stress-eating), add a pinch of motherly guilt for not EAT—EATing, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.  Even that only feels like the tip of the culinary iceberg.

Do you have any idea how many calories are in Egg Nog?!  I didn't find this out until it was too late:  340 calories in 1 stinkin' little CUP!  (Not as in one glass, we're talkin' one measuring cup, people!)

Today I weighed in at 260.  I could just cry.

A quick glance at my weight log showed I haven’t been in the 260s since April.  Now I want to scream.  I know I took the summer off and I’m “in recovery mode”, but for heavens’ sake, this is ridiculous. 

One small consolation:  I’ve stuck to every other aspect of my contract.  I suppose that without the 4 workouts of the last week, I could have seen that number jump to somewhere closer to 265, which is probably what I deserve.  A fat, little lump of coal in my stocking this year.

Happy Holidays.  This sucks.

I hope y’all are doing better than I did.  I hope to be checking in with you soon.  Blessings, and thank you so much for all the support.

I was going to title this blog entry, "It's the diet, Stupid."  Sadly, I've got more than just eating issues.  I've found out the hard way over the last week that one thing leads to another, and not always with the happy-go-lucky results I'd started out with.

I've implemented about half of my Contract for Success on a consistent basis.  No fast food has been ingested in the month of December -- an impressive accomplishment, considering that about the only things that are consistent for me are lapses in judgement.  Some of those lapses include (but are not limited to) watching too much television.  Why, oh, WHY did I have to subscribe to cable for the first time in my life the week I tell myself that I shouldn't watch as much TV?!  A fine example of self-sabotage, that is.  But wait, there's more.

How's this for bad-behavior whiplash?  New cable means extended viewing options.  Rather than embrace a fact that I know is true (ie:  now I've got 50 more channels of NOTHING ON!), suddenly I've got a six-hour home-makeover marathon that is begging for my attention.  Since when did I care if somebody elses house have enough closet space?!  Anyway, time flies when you're sedentary and before I know it, it's waaaaay past my bedtime.  That means a truncated sleep period.  Then that means, if I intend to be a half-way decent medical professional (I'd better not be too drowsy when administering sedatives), I'd better skip my morning workout in order to make up that extra hour of sleep.

More self-sabotage.  You've got to be good at something, right?

I've guaranteed myself success, IF I stick with the program.  One bright spot (aside from the aforementioned avoidance of the Golden Arches) is that overall the family's been eating better.  I've lost 2 lbs on that alone evidently.  My brother-in-law has been doing WW since the Spring and has, with his incredible discipline, lost 50 lbs.  To the best of my knowledge, he's not working out, so that success the result solely of eating right.  WOW!  What an awesome inspiration!

That brass ring is hanging out there, I've just got to grab it.  My body seems to want to lose weight, if I'd only allow it to do so.  So today, I renew my commitment to The Contract. 

I will do this.

As I was getting dressed to play volleyball a couple of days ago, I pulled on a new favorite shirt, one my wife had purchased at the end of summer, when I was at the peak of my weight-loss success.  Though it didn't seem to fit quite right, I shrugged and craned my neck, hoping for the proper adjustment would fall into place.

Head cocked to one side, my wife said, "Hold your arms up like you're going to jump."  The 5-year-old little lady stopped bouncing on the bed long enough to watch.  I raised my arms straight up over my head, mimicking a block.  I felt a cold breeze at my midriff. 

"Oh... No, no, no...  That won't do, hon," my loving wife stated.

"Why?" I dumbly questioned. 

"Just do that and look in the mirror." 

I just looked down.  Even from that angle, my belly button winked at me.

"Did this shirt shrink?!"  I exclaimed, exasperated.  The little lady giggled. 

"Daddy," she said, "I love your boobies."  She bounced over on the bed and poked them.

No man ever wanted to hear that prior to an athletic event.  Or ever.  With a grimace, and a half-hearted "love you" tossed over my shoulder to the girls, I changed my shirt and and proceeded to play my best volleyball game since high-school.  (I was darn proud of me!  I pulled my [considerable] weight!)  Were the events connected?  Probably not.  At least I hope not.  Getting my pride crushed isn't a pre-game ritual I'd like to repeat.

I wonder, though, do the folks on the other side of the net ever think, "Hey, that's the fat guy who can play!"  For now, I think I'd be OK with that.  In the future, I'd like to hear that exact statement without the body description.

Updates to come. 

Many blessings, all.  Take care!

I'd like to first give a hearty congratulations to whomever was my 10,000th visitor!  Woo-hoo!  I never thought that would happen when I started blogging in January!  WOW!  That's a testimony to y'all, and your faithful support.  Or it might be that Mom's hitting her refresh button alot, trying to inflate my numbers.  (Thanks Mom.  My ego is refreshed as well.)  Alright, down to bidness.

I knew it wouldn't be long after putting my pledge on virtual paper that my resolve would be tested.  I wasn't anticipating a snowstorm.

Yesterday, I trudged out of the hospital, up to the top floor of the parking ramp (taking the stairs, thankyouverymuch), and into a stiff snowstorm.  My car, having foolishly chosen to park on the exposed roof (silly car), looked like a thickly iced cake.  After dusting off the "frosting", I peered over the concrete wall to spy on the highway I was going to take home.  A lovely peppermint swirl of red and white lights as far as the eye could see.  (Sigh.)

It took me an hour just to get to the highway, less than a mile from work. 

All the mundanities of rush hour bumper-to-bumper traffic started to wear on me.  I grew tired and bored of the crabby radio guys who, in spite of the fact that they were sitting in their sweater vests enjoying hot cocoa in the warmth of their studio swivel chairs, still couldn't find something not to complain about.  When I get tired and/or bored, I get hungry.  Call it a foible or a habit, but that's just the way it is.  In fact, someone much smarter than me came up with this pattern of circumstances that leads to poor behavior:

H - Hungry

A - Angry

L - Lonely

T - Tired

When the pump is primed with any of those criteria, I'm usually hittin' the fridge, followed by placing my butt on the sofa, STAT.  So, as I'm HALT-ing my way down the frozen highway, my bored mind is starting to play games with me... 

(Two miles to the next exit.  Top of the hill and to the right is a filling station that always has jumbo dogs & nacho cheese...)

Forget it, Me.

(Exit 52A...  Dairy Queen one mile to the left...  You're not gonna get home til tomorrow anyway and by golly you've gotta eat!) 

Doggone it, Self!  Do you want to have to confess this to your blog?!

[Sheepishly:]  (No.)

Two and a half hours later, I was pulling into my milky-white-powdered-sugar-snow driveway... hungry, but victorious, and suprisingly OK with not having stuffed my face with reprocessed, cooked on a dirty griddle junk food.

;-)

Here's to small victories.  Here-here!

I thought of one more thing to add to my contract:  #8.  I will ENJOY the journey, the results, and the benefits!

Take care, all!

Blogging is kinda like writing your mother -- you know you should do it and you think about it every day, but the longer you go without doing it, the more awkward it is to actually sit down and put fingers to keyboard.

(Sigh.)

I feel like I've been doing this alot.  (I wish I could add "lately".)  By "this" I mean apologizing to you, who've been so faithful and supportive and checking in on my sorry excuse for a blog on a regular basis.  You deserve a better effort from me.  So again, I say with all sincerity, I'm very sorry for not writing sooner, Mom... er, EP-ites.

Here's what's been going on for the last two months:

My job is going very well.  I've now gratuated from orientation at The Poop Factory, but of course still have lots to learn.  I enjoy the entire staff (including the doctors) very much.  You've got to have a sense of humor about your work to help folks through colonoscopies every day, and my informal goal is to get a laugh out of every patient.  I'm usually successful, and why not?  Your bowels are a gas!

Unfortunately, as far as the blogging is concerned, the old job with its down-time during the night-shift was far more conducive schedule-wise to being able to jot down my innermost wierdness during a shift.  It's not a terribly good excuse, I know, but I've been just waiting for "blog time" to open up at home and it's just not happening.  Blog Time is going to have to be made, it appears.

So how's the weight loss going? you ask.  (Sigh again.)  I've come to grips with the fact that I flat-out took the summer off as far as the diet goes.  Mercifully I didn't balloon up the way I should have.  (Semi-regular exercising is probably to thank for that.)  I've put on ten pounds since the last time I entered my weight, which I'm SHOCKED to see was in JULY!  (What's the matter with me?!) 

Believe it or not, I can feel the difference in the weight increase.  Some of those pants that were getting really loose, well, they ain't so loose anymore.  I've also noticed my scrubs fitting a little differently, which is not a good thing.  (I can't wear the XL's I purchased at the end of the summer -- I can't bend over without giving a partial moon-shot to anyone with a sight-line.  Yuck.  I wouldn't want to see it either!)

My workouts have been sporadic at best.  Starting in mid-October, I'd buckled down and had worked out 4-5 days a week for 3-4 weeks.  I wasn't dropping any weight, but was seeing some positive body changes again.  Then, about 2 weeks ago, I got sick and haven't worked out since.  The illness has gone from flu to cough and repeated the cycle.  A naggy thought in the back of my brain tells me that if I were eating better, this wouldn't have lasted as long, but honestly, who knows.

So, the question remains, "How we gonna turn this boat around?"

A good question, that speaking of boats, has an interesing answer:  Incentive.  My wife and I will soon be celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary.  She's been dropping subtle hints for a few years that she wants to do something BIG for our 10th.  Subtle like, "Let's buy me something expensive!"  She's going to have to settle for a short cruise to the Bahamas.  This brings me back to my incentive:  I'm looking forward to taking my shirt off in public and not having my fellow guests requiring emergency trips to the infirmary for something along the lines of "seasickness" medication.  Nothing provides incentive like a threat of a little public embarrassment.

Incentive, Part II:  Because of the trip, I am now basically broke.  This is a good thing.  Why? you ask.  Another very good question.  Probably my biggest vice when it comes to food is eating out, which is expensive.  If you can remember back to the last milennia (when I was still blogging regularly), you might recall that I am not a picky eater.  I'm just as likely to "ooh" and "ahh" over something in a paper wrapper served to me in my car as a menu choice that I have to gesture at with my index finger because I haven't the foggiest idea how to pronounce it.  Therein lies my biggest problem - indescriminate eating, especially of the fast-food variety.  So, I have a little financial incentive to not eat spontaneously.  I just don't have the dough for the mass-produced bread.  This, I believe, will require me to resume planning my meals, a key component to my prior success.  We'll also be eating far more fresh/whole foods from the grocery store as a result.

So, here's the rub:  I've had an idea rattling around in my brain for a couple of weeks -- a contract with myself.  I'm going to construct a very straightforward list of expectations I have for myself ('cause, as my wife knows all too well, I just don't do all that well with nuance) that will lead to better behaviors and therefore help me achieve my goals.  When finished, I will print out a copy and post it on my fridge and in my car, the two places I struggle the most, and am quite likely to see on a regular basis.  Any sugguestions are most welcome.  Here's what I've got so far:

THE CONTRACT for SUCCESS

1. I will not eat any fast food between now and the cruise.
2. I will not eat in my car.  (This may seem redundant, but even with food brought from home, I can snack indescriminately forever, as long as I'm driving.  This will also rule out impulse buys at the gas station/grocery/drug store, etc...)
3. I will drink 8-12 glasses of water every day.
4. I will not watch more than 7 hours of TV per week (avg 1 hr/day), the only exception being that time on during workouts does not count toward my total, as it helps keep me focused/distracted.  (Such a brain-drain-time-sucker the tube is.  At first, 7 hours a week may seem like alot, but when I do an honest self-assessment...  shiver!)
5. I will have a focused work out for at least 1/2 hour a minimum of 4 days per week.
6. I will research and implement a simple, whole-foods based diet.
7. I will blog at EP at least twice a week.

I'm serious about sugguestions.  Send 'em my way.  I need all the help that I can get!

Blessings to you all.  Thanks again for sticking with me.  I hope to be checking in with you soon.

I turn 32 this week.  While I don't hear the reaper sharpening his scythe just yet, every birth-a-versary inevitably leads to reflection.  What have I done to better my life, my family, and (dare I say it) my world in the past 365 days?  Most birthdays, an honest self-evaluation has frequently led me to believe that I've been in a multi-year holding pattern, making small but superficial improvements here and there.  This year's a little different, I believe.

EP.com, and specifically YOU my fellow EP'ers have been crucially important in my ability to sustain this self-improvement effort for longer than a month.  Here we are, over 9 months into things, and though my progress has slowed during the summer months, I haven't reballooned to my former size.  That in itself is a victory!  You deserve alot of credit, and also my sicerest thanks.  So, THANKS!

The disciplines and rewards that come along with the weight-loss struggle have helped stabilize other parts of my life.  Recently my wife frankly stated, "You're a happier man when you're eating right and working out... when you're being good to yourself, you treat us better."  Is there any better incentive than that to keep up the fight?  (By the way, she made that statement after a week of sloth and binge snacking, providing a wise and well-placed kick in the pants.  Let's hear it for painful honesty!)  I know her observation is true, and therefore if I want to be a better father and husband, I need to treat me right.

At the last sand volleyball event of the summer, I was standing next to our team organizer (also in his 30s) watching a young team with lots of spring bound around the court.  I said, "Oh, to be 21 again, huh?"  His reply suprised me:  "You know," he said, "I didn't really do that much when I was 21.  I'm more active now, having a better time, enjoying stuff more.  Plus you don't have all the junk that goes along with being in your 20s."  (I'm pretty sure he was talking about relationship angst, college, ground-level career stuff, etc...  At least, that's what I was thinking about.)  I shared that conversation with a close cousin of mine who concurred:  "I wasn't happy with my body in my 20s," he said.  "I'm really looking forward to being in the best shape of my life in my 30s."  I think that's a realisic and worthy goal.  

I'm sad to admit that I've never been truly happy with my shape.  I made a really a really fast transition from fit but scrawny to unfit and fat.  Age 32 is a year to draw a line in the sand.  I want to look in the mirror at 33 and say, "Doggone.  Your hard work has paid off, Pete.  Good job.  You look good!"

Results to follow.

Blessings, all.

P.S.  I just want to throw this tidbit of real life in here.  For the last 15 minutes of typing about all this weight-loss stuff, I've had running on a loop in the back of my mind that there's some ice-cream needing "attention" in the freezer.  What the heck is wrong with me?!  Don't worry, it's not going to get the "attention" it's asking for, but man, talk about a split mind!

I've found out that I've only got room in my life for one internet addiction at a time.  About a month ago, my wife ambushed me by setting up an account in my name on one of those personal page sites.  Let's call it "MyFacePageBook.com".  I'd been resistant for a reason, doggone it!  It sucked me in (at the unfortunate expense of posting more regularly at EP), and I've been making pseudo-reconnections with all sorts of people from past lives.

Here's the weird part:  "Friends" who ignored you in the past are just as likely to ignore you in cyberspace.  I've got "Will You Be My Friend?" requests flying at me from people I haven't seen in 15 years, and/or barely talked to when I knew them.  After we become online "buddies", I suddenly hear the sound of virtual crickets from the other end of the internet.  One gal, one of the beautiful/popular people in college, continues her somewhat shallow social ways virtually by having 245 "friends" and posting Glamour Shots images of herself, her parents' billion dollar home, her singing in a rock-concert-like setting...  (Blah, blah, WRETCH!)  Do I worry that she'll read this?  Not in the slightest.  Not with her 245 friends that she'll probably be keeping up with...

Sheesh.

Anyway, I'm back.  Back with the real deal.  I'll post again soon about what's happening in REAL LIFE.

"See" y'all soon.

I haven't stopped by to blog in a while.  Why?  I got a new job!

(Wild cheering ensues!)

Though I'll have to leave my beloved (and be-hated) staircase/aerobics gym behind, I'm now in the gainful employment of a Gastroenterology group across town.  They study and treat intestinal issues like ulcers, polyps, internal bleeding, and foreign body extraction (let's hear it for drunken frat boys!), and they do most of it endoscopically.  Fascinating stuff.  The best part is... drum roll, please...  I'M OFF THE NIGHT SHIFT!  (My wife is 5x as excited as I am, so you can just imagine the number of gleeful giggles our house has heard over the last week.)

All my spare time has been spent with my nose in literature that addresses everything between the plate and the "throne", so I've been remiss in my blogging (and sadly to admit, remiss in my cardio - still doing my pushups somewhat regularly).

So, lemme tell you what I've seen.  I've had an insider's view (quite literally) of what happens when people mistreat their colons.  As distasteful as it sounds, I totally want to see what mine looks like!  (There's a creepy insight into my psyche.)  Let me just say this:  EAT YOUR VEGGIES!  EAT YOUR FIBER!  It's good for you!  I won't elaborate too much, but doggone, there's been some darn ugly stuff in there, and I've only been working procedures for a week! 

The MDs are extraordinarily nice, which makes me want to go over their credentials with a fine tooth comb.  One very thorough Pakistani doc asked me (as we're about 4-feet into the colon of a sedated patient), "What made you want to leave orthopedics for the Poop Factory?" 

Funny, too.  I'm gonna like this place.

Just a quickie today.  I'll keep you posted.  Take care all!

I've got an almost five-year-old girl.  She talks.  Alot.  She's got a treasure trove of insightful, heartwarming, and downright funny quotes.  Here are a couple that popped out of the little jabberbox tonight:

Quote #1:  (First, the context.)  We were at the mall, which is one of her favorite places to be.  (She is so her mother's child.)  We were perusing the little girl clothes as she's quickly graduating from toddlers.  As she's giving me directions from her perch on my shoulders, she spots something interesting and steers me over.  In my peripheral vision I see a tiny, not so baby-fatty hand point down at a rack of training bras that I didn't realize I was standing next to.  Already uncomfortable, I hear her little voice peep, "Dad, are you ready for [me to be in] those?" 

"What?!  NO!  WHAT?!!  NO, you're staying a kid forever!"

So Mommy, mischeviously grinning from ear to ear, asks my munchkin, "Do you know what those are for?"

The far-too-little princess proudly proclaims for half the store to hear, "BOOBYTIME!"

Trust me, there's no inside family joke here.  She came up with that one on her own.

Quote #2:  Just a second ago, as I'm trying to type this tale through chuckling fingers, she gets a really pensive look on her face and then asked in all seriousness, "Mom, Dad, why do you guys have blogs and I don't?"

I didn't ask her what she thinks a "blog" is as I was suddenly struck by the fact that my kid is way smarter than me. 

Out of the mouths of babes come the darndest things.