Monday, January 31, 2011

Fatus Andronicus

Dear Fat,

Hello!  Maybe you've been confused by my behavior lately.  I mean, I'm sure you love it, what with the egregious amounts of over eating that I've been doing of late.  But still, I say I hate you, and in the past few days I have not stopped eating.

Seriously, I've gained like 3 pounds in the past week.  What the eff?  That's insane!!  You probably want to know why I've been packing on the pounds like I was getting ready to hibernate (oh, wouldn't that be awesome) while still saying, "Skinny is gonna feel so good!"  And it is.

Tomorrow is February 1st.  The first day of the rest of my life.  My life free from you.  And food that I find delicious and love eating.  I'm starting Medifast tomorrow and that means I will soon be skinny!

And CRAZY!

They say that it's healthy and that it's the fastest weightloss solution around.  My intelligence is a little more than insulted by the introductory video whose vague references to "leading university doctors" are supposed to assure me that this is the beginning of a new me.  "It's goof proof," Legitimacy-lending-doctor.

Awesome.

I'm gonna be so skinny!!

~Fatticus

Saturday, January 29, 2011

From Here to Fateternity

Dear Fat,

Oh, how the heavy have fallen.  It's been . . . let's say six weeks or so since I last jogged.  My foot still hurts on occasion, but this weekend, I will be attempting my first run in far too long.  Wish me luck.  Fatticus, you're coming with me.

My diet was absolutely atrocious in early January.  I ate everything in sight without regard to my weight.  Although I generally try to keep my future health in mind when convincing myself to stick to good eating habits, I just . . . did not care.  At all.  Disappointment, anger (mostly at myself), depression still seem to manifest themselves in consuming obscene amounts of food.  The problem is that I don't really feel that bad after I eat too much.  Yeah, I feel better if I have things like salad, fruit, whatever, but I don't physically feel bad.  To shorten this story: I've gained a few pounds.  I was edging closer to my starting weight again, but fortunately, I have dropped a little since that point.

No, I will not consider any fad diets.  If I'm going to lose weight, I will figure out how to do so while eating real food.

I'm also consistently stressed now, and I have trouble getting myself to relax.  I feel like I used to be a relatively mellow person.  Perhaps that is self-deception.  Grad school, at the very least, hasn't made me a better person in any way that I can perceive.  Lab makes me feel incompetent.  I never really go out into the real world to help anyone anymore.  And people make me angry too easily.  Did people make me this angry before?

Frick, I need to chill out.  Being tense while I try to do everything I need to do isn't going to make things any easier.  I apparently need to reorganize my life goals.  Meanwhile, I should also schedule my quals . . . eventually.  Maybe.  And I need to lose weight for sure.  Enough of that.  Can we talk about something else?

I think once I have a little more free time (should have a little by the summer), I should start working on my screenplay for real.  Otherwise, I'm never going to do it, and it's going to turn into one of those long-running jokes about some grand project that I would never accomplish.  I don't expect it to be good.  I just expect it to be done.

One month into this new year, I still haven't officially stated my resolutions, but I will at least get them out before the new year of my people.  Evidently, my own year (i.e., the year of the Tiger) is bad luck for me.  Rather counterintuitive, I would say.  With the passing of this lunar year, my luck is supposed to turn, according to a Chinese post-doc in my lab.  That shouldn't be too hard since this year sucked and is ending on a suckier note (don't worry, guys, I'm not actually that depressed right now.  I'm just venting.)

So here goes:

Long-term goals: Get qualified to achieve long-term goals (yes, intentionally vague for your benefit)

Lab goals: Get paper out.  Any paper.  Seriously.  I would be desperate at this point if I cared more, but I just don't want my boss to get mad at me.  Again.

Fat goals: Lose fat.  Jog 2-3 times a week.  Eat ten salads a week (we're apparently at the age when our arteries are starting to clog).  Lose at least 25 pounds (realistically . . . we'll work on the rest later).  Buy new clothes (yes, that fits under this heavily parenthetical-ed category)

Hobby goals: Outline screenplay and complete first draft.  Play "Wonderwall" on guitar.  Pay attention to the news.  Finish Crime and Punishment and then work on the other books on my bookshelf.  Volunteer more.  Save world.

Personal personal goals: Be more tolerant of people and learn how to shut up.  I guess be less sarcastic/defensive and more approachable in general.  Yeah, that'll be hard.  Also, do a better job of keeping in touch with people.  Written correspondence will be back on.  And relax.

I'm sleepy now.  Good night.

I.M.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

All Fat on the Western Front

Dear Fat,

What happened?  You came back?  When you were totally unwanted?  How rude.

I've decided to rename Saturday to Faturday.  Last week I carefully logged my calorie intake, and managed to stay under/around my designated amount; hooray!  However, upon weighing myself, I observed no change.  Rude.

It is with renewed vigor that I will take up my fight against you.  Because I'm in love.  Madly.  He's wonderful.  He loves Jesus (amen!) and sings beautifully.  He's from my hometown [county... same thing] and is beautiful.  Unfortunately, he's also a movie star.  *Heavy sigh* We're both in LA.  And love Jesus.  That's enough right?  Enough for us to meet and fall in love and GASP! sing Jesus-duets?!?!?!?!  Oh please, please let that be enough.

Oh Fat, how skinny do you think I'll need to be before Zachary Levi will love me?

Fatfully and fretfully yours,

Fatticus

...maybe...

Thursday, January 06, 2011

The Fat Badge of Courage

Dear Fat,

While eating the delicious chicken tamales I purchased from the tamale man outside of Vons today, I had a revelation.  Zong zi are like Chinese tamales!  This further proves the theory of the father of my ex-gay-college-apartment husband that Asians are just like Latinos.  We like rice.  We like spicy food.  Our countries of origin have suffered the abuses of white imperialism.  Yes, the parallels are unending.

Anyway, Fat, as you know, you have been re-accumulating around my waistline and thighs.  Yes, my scars are healing over, but what has happened now?  I pulled something in my lower back while sitting (sitting!).  The hobbling that resulted from this injury then led to my foot sprain (or whatever).  Is this what it feels like to be old?  I actually haven't gained that much weight, but considering that I must be losing muscle mass, it's still not the best sign.

You'd think that I'd be responsible enough to eat less, but I just finished second dinner (I made chicken udon to follow up the tamales).  Actually, I think the foot injury was a result of Monday's 3 hours of walking from first lunch to chocolate croissant to second lunch.  Karma rears its dirty, vengeful face once more.

Icing my foot,

I.M.

(With an ice pack . . . not like a cake)