Accidents & Attrition

Several weeks back, I had a splitting headache. While I'm not a fan of introducing foreign chemicals to my body, the irritation was so bad I eventually ended up taking a handful of Tylenol. First 3, then an hour or so later 3 more. It didn’t work; medicine rarely works on me. Nitrous Oxide didn't affect me when I had my wisdom teeth removed, Percocet didn’t faze me, and ibuprofen rarely eliminates any pain I have. At times, it pisses me off. When I'm in pain, I'd love to be able to pop a pill and have it go away. Regardless, with my last headache, after a couple hours of severe, constant pain something dawned on me: I hadn't had a soda in a day or two and was therefore in the throes of the dreaded "caffeine withdrawal headache."

I was pissed. Not for having "forgotten" to drink a soda, but that the lack of doing so could affect my physical being so greatly. Right then and there I figured "fuck it." If I was going to have to go through withdrawal symptoms, why jump back on the drug? For the past three weeks I have been soda free.

I became a vegetarian pretty much the same way. Not through pain or discomfort, but simply by deciding on a whim to not eat meat anymore. There was no political agenda, no health conscious reasoning, I had nothing but an off handed decision to do what felt right. Part of me now thinks that by not having any deeper meaning to my actions, it makes them easier to deal with. As there is no agenda to anything I do, I feel no guilt about doing it. If I chose to, I could eat a hamburger without worrying about how meat doesn’t actually help the body and at the same time destroys the environment. I would enjoy it for the simple reason that meat is enjoyed: taste.

Where this is all coming from is: I stepped on a scale the other day. Thanks to my first Midwestern winter in six years, I have gained seven pounds. I still went to the gym in winter, but also probably watched my diet a little less. Brenda Walsh said it best on one of the first episodes of 90210: "I miss the Minnesota winters; you get to cover up in sweaters and not worry about how you look." (I'm paraphrasing; I only saw the episode once, and that was when it originally aired) Winter is simply an excuse, though, and I hate excuses.

There are certain genes with a predisposition towards weight gain, but generally it happens due to neglect or acceptance. A couple days ago, I got to hang out with someone who had gastric bypass surgery. The man was down over 200 pounds, and had about 125 more to go; at his peak he was over 550. He was very honest in how he ballooned to be so big: he never stepped on a scale, and went into absolute denial. He knew he was gaining weight, and would hear about the obesity problem on the news, see the neck-down shots of rolling masses of matter waddling around and think, "thank god that’s not me."

The human mind has the amazing ability to believe what it wants to over what is. People can convince themselves that any action they take is justified, simply because they took it. If you notice your body changing, you can either do something about it, or accept it. Both are fine responses because one of the most attractive traits a person can have is the sweet combination of self awareness and confidence. What's problematic is the person who is unhappy, but refuses to do anything but complain; they are most happy being unhappy and take that out on those around them.

I'm not unhappy, but I am going to start exercising more and eating better. I know who I am, and what I want to look like.

My body, my choice, my life.

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