Day 44

Well, it happened. I checked the scale again today after checking it last night, and sure enough I had not lost an ounce. It's so easy to let tiny things like that throw your confidence out of the window. That's why I told myself that I was not going to weigh myself. But did I listen? No, of course not!

So here I am analyzing every potential cause, wondering what I might have done different to cause such an horrible thing to occur. Could it be the diet soda? The sugar-free candy that I've allowed myself to eat one or two of per day? The small handfuls of peanuts that I ingest to stave off total starvation? The tuna sub on whole wheat bread? The reduced speed on the treadmill? The fact that all I do is walk, even if I'm averaging 5 miles per day?

Maybe I just reached my monthly weight loss quota and now have to wait until October to drop any more.

I know I could do more than I'm doing, but, seriously, wow, you know? I definitely shouldn't eat less! I probably could be slightly more conscientious with my lunch selections, but I'm already burning off at least a fourth of the calories I take in while I'm on the treadmill, if not quite a bit more than that.

The fact that only people who know I'm trying to lose weight have made any comments about my progress makes me think that the mirror isn't actually lying after all. If no one else can see it, it's certainly no wonder that I can't.

Sure, my wife says she can see it, and I know that she doesn't sugar coat anything for me to protect my ever so fragile feelings. If I don't take her word for it, I guess she could take it as disrespect. I know I would if the roles were reversed. But still, I'm huge and utterly disgusting to behold regardless of the number displayed on the scale's LCD screen. Even if it had changed today I'd still look exactly the same to myself in the mirror.

There's only been one time in my life when I remotely tolerated my appearance, and that was when I enlisted. I weighed 157 back then; the lightest I had been in over 15 years. I had literally worked my backside off to get ready for the Army. Even the guy who was issuing me my uniforms at basic training told me, "I don't know what size pants to give you, 'cause you ain't got no booty!". Hey, but I did have the makings of a decent six pack though!

Now I have a keg.

But, and it is a big one, I sleep through the night without having chunks of my dinner find their way into my sinus cavities after having been chased out of my stomach by a geyser of digestive acids, which, by the way, happen to not agree very well with my esophagus. My knees and joints may still hurt a bit, but I'm not out of breath by the time I get back to my car at the end of a work day. I, uh, last a bit longer, um, where, and when it counts, if you catch my drift....

So, the number on the scale didn't change. Oh freakin' well. It's not as if my self perception were going to be in any way affected by the loss of another pound. We'll see how I feel when size 32 pants start feeling a bit too baggy on me. Maybe then I'll permit a slight paradigm shift. Maybe.

Day 44: 5.5 miles in 111 minutes... maybe.