A book my wife has read, and wanted me to read — I’ve sort of read it, in the sense that I read the first few chapters, then realized it was a Blinkist-type book; it makes a point, then provides 10-15 pages of anecdotes and personal stories, then remakes the point, then moves onto the next one.
The central message is that working to lose weight us ultimately no good, it’s hard on your system, and winds up setting your body’s “set point” for weight even higher on the backswing. After a year of going sober and 1.5 years figuring stuff out, it’s an interesting perspective on how I’ve definitely been yo-yo’ing all that time.
I’m still holding on to the idea that I can get back down to my pre-broken-foot weight, though. Literally, in some cases — I got a couple of shirts I’ve been hanging onto for like a decade.
It’s… interesting to think that maybe I’m just at the weight I’m at now, and resistance is futile; there’s no formula or trigger that will get me back down about 20 pounds. I’m not sure I like that message, and the processing in my head right now is do I not like this because it’s defeatist, or do I not like it because I don’t like its truth?
It’s a certain amount of exceptionalism, too. When somebody says “80% of people who lose weight gain it right back,” there’s a strain inside me that says “yeah, but I’m going to be one of the 20% who do.” Which is partly a good thing; confident, ambitious. But I also recognize this strain of thinking in that Steinbeck quote:
“Socialism never took root in America because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.”
Am I a “temporarily embarrassed” fit guy or am I crazy?
I’m not going to make any grand internal decisions right away — the weather’s nice, it’s running season, so the way I figure it’s a great time to take another kick at the can this summer toward actually hitting those goals. But this is some good foundation for reflection on what makes more sense — being happy where I’m at, or striving to be who I was.