Starting Over: Day Three

If am to be successful, I need to figure out how to deal with stress, anger, rage, and general grumpiness without eating a large bag of potato chips.

I don't wanna talk about it.


May 6, 2013

Weigh-in (doc's office): 279 lbs

Exercise: 1.48 miles of around-town walking.

Breakfast: Veggie sausage, egg, cheese on toast
Iced coffee with skim milk

Um...Breakfast two:
Iced latte with 2 percent milk
Egg white and cheese sandwich on whole grain

Lunch: Small bowl leftover chicken brown/wildrice

Snack: Cup of trail mix.

Snack: Greek yogurt

Snack: Salt-n-vinegar chips (ooooooh no!)

Dinner: Three bowls of salad (lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, cheddar, hard-boiled egg, Italian dressing)

Starting Over: Day Two

A bit more than a decade ago, after 9/11, I lost a bunch of weight. It made me happy, I felt confident, and not coincidentally—from both a pants-size perspective and confidence perspective—I dated more during that period than at any other time in my single life. It was great. And all I did was two things:

• I spent an hour on the treadmill at least four days a week.

• I quit soda cold turkey.

That's it. I ate whatever I wanted, and sometimes still ate too much. And I wasn't what you'd call slim: I'm never going to be what you call slim, I don't think. But I slimmed-down. It was awesome. And except for that hour a day on the treadmill—set at its highest hill settings, making me sweat like crazy—relatively easy.

(Why did I quit? I got sick—sick with what now seems likely to have been a precursor to the diverticulitis that took me out in 2011. That at least consoles me on one level: If I got sick when I was fit, the illness was probably more genetic than God's retribution on me for living my sinfully excessive lifestyle. It took me more than a month to recover, and I never quite got back on the treadmill with the same vigor I previously had.) 

While I'm figuring out what my food consumption will look like—and thanks to all the many of you who have written me with your stories and advice—there are two things I know I can do: Give up the soda. And devote an hour of my day to moving.

The second might sound difficult: I think I have to let it not be. For example: My wife was in Maryland today on a previously scheduled trip, leaving me to take care of our son. That doesn't exactly scream "gym time," does it? But the great thing about living in Center City Philadelphia is that if you want to get moving, all you have to do is go somewhere and not take the bus.

So Tobias walked out to get lunch and coffee today. By the time we made it home, we'd covered nearly two miles. Was I sweating? No. Did I move? Yes. Something is better than nothing.

Tomorrow: Another doctor's appointment!

May 5

Weigh-in: None

Exercise: City walking with Tobias: 1.93 miles

Breakfast:

Spinach-mushroom quiche

Iced coffee, splash of half-and-half

Snack:

Cup of wasabi peas

Lunch: (Easily the worst-chosen meal of my twodays so far. Mediocre and flavorless)

Falafel wrap (includes rice, roasted red pepper, sauce)

Hummus with red peppers, olives, garlic/pita

Snack :

Iced coffee, splash of half and half

Dinner:

Two bowls of brown/wild rice, topped with tomato-basil marinated chicken

Addendum: A finger of Laphroaig scotch, two squares of dark chocolate. I'm not going to be an ascetic.

Starting Over: Day One

Clearly chunky. Lucky for me
the black T-shirt has slimming qualities.

Thanks to everybody who contacted me today, either through the comments here, my Facebook page, or via email, to encourage me and offer advice. I'm only a day into my weight-loss mission: One thing I haven't done yet is figured out how I'll do it. There are as many approaches as, well, people who have lost weight.

I'm averse to strict calorie-counting—though it may be the way I have to go ultimately. I know from previous attempts that calorie counting actually made me obsessed with food. It's not wrong to think about what you're eating or how much; the calorie-counting process, though, triggers something in me that to think about food constantly, when I'm eating, when I'm not eating, mostly wishing I was eating. It actually works against healthy weight loss for me, I think.

But: It may ultimately be that I have to calorie count in order to accomplish this.

I'll be exploring the merits of several plans in coming weeks. I want something that's more than just a crash diet, but a new lifestyle that I can somewhat comfortably maintain. In the meantime, I'll be documenting my exercise and eating, anyway, just as a way of beginning to be mindful.

So. Here goes.


Weight: 281 lbs

Exercise: 60 minutes on elliptical, 3.02 miles

Breakfast:
Bowl of Kashi GoLean cereal
Mixed in with cup of honey Greek yogurt
3 small cups of coffee, two of which had a splash of half and half.

Snack: 1biggish apple
Snack: Baby carrots and hummus

Lunch: Veggie Wrap from Almaz Cafe

Snack: Two cups of wasabi dried peas

Dinner: Two bowls of salad: Lettuce, chicken, tomatoe, broccoli, asparagus, some small chunks of cheddar, Italian dressing.

There may be an after-dinner snack later. If so, I'll put on an addendum. You can see where the emphasis is, though: Heavy on veggies. I had maybe a quarter-pound of chicken in the salad, but probably not even that much. What's more: I feel fine. Did I lose weight today? No idea. But thinking about what I'm doing is already changing what I'm putting in my body. Hopefully that counts for something.

Starting over

So the blog is about to take a left turn, for reasons that will become apparent. 


I keep thinking I've bottomed out. I keep finding not.

Let's get up to speed very quickly: Two years ago this week, I went into hospital with stopped-up bowels. Turned out I had diverticulitis, a nasty infection on top of that, and was about to die. They performed a colostomy on me.

Two months later, the doctors did a second surgery: A colon recission. That means they shortened up my colon. In practice, it meant cutting out old dead colon that had wrapped itself around my bladder. Oh, and: They punctured my bladder during the surgery.

The colostomy, for what it's worth, created a hernia. And the doctors tried to fix that hernia when they reversed my colostomy in November 2011. But the fix didn't take. Today, I'm overweight AND lumpy in a way that being merely overweight doesn't describe. A CT scan a few months ago shows I basically have no abdominal wall between my belly button and my sternum. Oh, and I weigh 280 pounds—this being a chicken-and-egg thing: Am I *this* fat because I can't exercise much ( get tired, and frankly sit-ups are out of the question) or do I not exercise much because I'm fat?

Doesn't matter. A surgeon told me yesterday he won't operate to fix me because, at this weight, there's an 85 percent chance the repair would fail. He wants to see me in three months. He wants me to lose 50 pounds. And if I can't do it the old fashioned way, then I need to look at "surgical" methods for dropping the weight. For my health.

So that's the story. I'm 40, fat, and herniated like a motherfucker. And I don't really have many good stories to tell about how I got this way. I've spent a lifetime making undisciplined, mediocre choices. Now I find I'm falling apart. "You can't continue to live at that weight," the doctor told me. He's right. So what the hell do I do?

I'm giving myself a month to see if I can start to lose that weight in a natural and meaningful way, before I call the weight-loss surgeon he named. I'm not entirely sure  how it's going to happen. I think it means an hour on the treadmill or eliptical, every day. I think it means no more cheeseburgers, wings, pizza, sausage breakfast sandwiches. I think it means weighing myself every goddamned day. I think it means tracking every thing I eat. I'm not sure I can be a strict calorie counter. I've done that before, and it drives me nuts.

But this is where I start. This is how I start. I'm a freelance writer. I largely shape the schedule I work. My son is in school so I don't have to drag him around during the day. I'm on the road very little. If anybody has the space in their life to reshape their eating and exercise habits, it's me. So, fuck it, it's time.

I'm a compulsive oversharer. Everybody who knows me knows this. I'm aware of this. But it's not easy for me to share this stuff, because it reveals me to be weak in a lot of ways I don't want to be seen as weak in public. This is humiliating. But I suspect I'm going to need support and ideas from people.

I want to be a vigorous and vital partner to my wife for decades to come. I want to be an active and energetic dad for my son for as long as I can. I want to live, and live with a good quality of life, instead of quickly crumbling to an early grave. This is where it starts. I'm out of delays, out of excuses, out of time.

Starting today—later today—I'll post what I'm eating and how I'm exercising at the end of each day. I don't expect a huge audience for this. But I am interested in hearing from folks. I guess I'm crowdsourcing my survival.

Sour Grapes: A Reply To Christopher Caldwell

The conservative writer Christopher Caldwell appears in this month's Claremont Review of Books, reviewing Closet to the Altar, a history of same-sex marriage by Michael J. Klarman. I'm going to leave most of Caldwell's arguments alone—Klarman can defend his own work—but I do want to contest Caldwell's seeming assertion toward the end of his piece that what makes the gay marriage movement particularly odious is its use of nasty strong-arm tactics:

The most troubling aspect of the gay-marriage movement is that, more than any social movement in living memory, more than feminism at its bra-burning peak in the 1970s, it aims not to engage in lively debate but to shut it down. Scurrility has become a norm. In April 2009, Miss California, Carrie Prejean, told a Miss America judge she thought marriage should be between a man and a woman and got called a "dumb bitch" for it on the judge's website. If it is now easier to call people dumb bitches, then it makes no sense at all to extol the gay marriage movement as a moral advance.

Let me condemn in the strongest possible fashion the use of the term "dumb bitch" as a response to Carrie Prejean. It seems to me that fighters of sexism and fighters of homophobia should be natural allies, and to deploy hateful sexist terminology on behalf of gay rights isn't just odious, it also seems to surely be missing the point.

Nonetheless, it surely seems that Caldwell's trying to make the case that "dumb bitch" entered political terminology as a means of shutting down Prejean's anti-gay-marriage views. This, of course, is poppycock. As I've written elsewhere—and as basically any woman who writes for public consumption knows—the term is used to silence women all the the time, particularly—I would guess—women coming from a lefty or feminist point of view. Caldwell's shock at the term in this context is either naive or, I suspect, disingenuous. He's right to point out that it's an ugly bit of business; but's far from a unique weapon of gay marriage forces, nor particularly common to them.

Nonetheless, Caldwell continues down this track:

Shutting down debate can be more effectively done now that the internet has solved the organizing problem of mobs. Anyone who expresses the slightest misgivings about gay marriage can become the object of boycotts, blacklists, and attempts to get him fired. Restaurant chain Chick fil-A was boycotted when its chief operating officer speculated that gay marriage might be "inviting God's wrath." A theater director in Sacramento resigned his post after having been shown to be a donor to Proposition 8. The law firm King & Spalding refused to allow Paul Clement permission to defend the federal Defense of Marriage Act on behalf of the House of Representatives. Defending O.J. Simpson will not get you booted from your firm, but defending a federal law will. Most companies are probably brave enough to defend their employees' freedom of opinion, but cowardice of King & Spalding's sort risks becoming the norm.

What I recall about the Chick fil-A boycott is that it turned out to be a tremendous success for the company after social conservatives rallied to its success. I recall, as well, that about the same time an anti-marriage-equality group calling itself One Million Moms (probably, ahem, a misnomer) vowed to boycott JC Penney after the retailer ran ads featuring Famous Lesbian(™) Ellen DeGeneres in holiday ads. If boycotts are an attempt to silence debate, rather than a form of it, then one would expect Caldwell to be shocked by the JC Penney action—or, at least, acknowledge that that Chick fil-A boycott comes in a context of back-and-forth boycotts over the subject of gay rights that have been going on for years.

The Southern Baptist Convention voted to boycott Disney in 1997 because of that company's perceived gay-friendly direction. It lasted eight years. The National Organization for Marriage is behind the Dump Starbucks campaign for similar reasons. Conservative Christian groups do this stuff all the time. The evangelicals I grew up with sometimes had trouble keeping track of all the companies (and sub-companies, and sub-sub companies) they were supposed to boycott: Were these paper towels the right ones to buy, or not? If boycotting is a pernicious form of trying to silence debate, Caldwell might want to pluck the log from his side's eye before pointing out the speck in his neighbor's eye. And, too, he might want to tell Martin Luther King Jr. about the moral illegitimacy of boycotts as a political measure.

Blacklisting is rather more problematic, admittedly. Does that term apply to Scott Eckern, the theater director to whom Caldwell refers? Possibly. But that seems tricky to me. Adults understand they have the right to make political statements—but they also recognize that that doing so might affect their ability to do their jobs. But again: Social conservatives feel free to deprive jobs to those who don't share their values on this topic.  If everybody should keep their job despite their political views, then everybody should get to keep their job despite their political views.

As for Mr. Clement, well: He wasn't booted from his firm, as Caldwell has it—he quit, after the firm decided it didn't want the job of defending the Defense of Marriage Act. It's an important distinction, a factual error that clearly undermines the case that Caldwell is trying to make.

Caldwell concludes:

In a decade, gay marriage has gone from joke to dogma. It is certainly worth asking why, if this is a liberation movement, it should be happening now, in an age not otherwise gaining a reputation as freedom's heyday. Since 2009, if Klarman's estimates are correct, support for gay marriage has been increasing by 4 points a year. Public opinion does not change this fast in free societies. Either opinion is not changing as fast as it appears to be, or society is not as free.

This is a baseless assertion, but I think it gets at the deeper conservative frustration on this issue: They're losing not just politically and legally; they're losing culturally. And when you lose the culture, that's when the debate really is over, at least for awhile. Conservatives never lost the culture entirely on abortion, which is why we're still debating the issue 40 years later. Will we still be debating gay marriage 20 years from now? Forget my answer: I'd like to know what Caldwell thinks.

Besides, Caldwell's wrong about public opinion: Big cultural shifts often happen little-by-little, then a lot all at once: It's fascinating to look at Gallup's list of long-term poll trends, measuring attitudes for most of the 20th century in America.

On the question of "would you be willing to support a woman for president," for example, barely half the country—53 percent—said yes in 1969. Two years later, than number was at 66 percent: A movement of 6.5 points per year, on average. It's about what you might expect with the women's liberation movement getting underway at the time. Similarly, in 1962, only 48 percent of Americans said they would support a black president—a number that rose 18 points, to 66 percent, by 1968: Around 3 percent a year. That's not quite as dramatic, but it's still plenty dramatic, and certainly indicative of a massive shift in racial attitudes underway during the era. Does Caldwell want to suggest that American society wasn't "free" then? Perhaps, but I don't think the case he'd make would be recognizable to most Americans.

Anti-gay-marriage conservatives have failed to convince an increasing majority of Americans of their views.  Of late, they have resorted to a final argument: That allowing gay marriage will lead to the victimization of those who believe in traditional marriage. It's an argument that does the neat trick of sidestepping the worthiness of gay marriage itself in favor of creating a needless zero-sum contest of rights. But the loss of privilege—the privilege, in this case, to disdain your gay neighbors' relationship without social consequence—is not the same thing as a loss of rights. If Caldwell believes he can win the gay marriage debate by painting a falsely negative portrait of the gay marriage movement, he should understand the lies will only comfort true believers on his side: For everybody else, facts and a sober examination of history will show his errors.

(Edited for clarity, spelling, boo-boos.)

Look elsewhere

Over the last year, my blogging energies have been increasingly consumed by my work for Philadelphia Magazine. If you're looking for my thoughts on politics, that's probably the place to go. Thanks to those of you who have followed me here. I may return someday, who knows?

The Olympics are meaningless

Interesting story in NYT today about how an American who won silver at the 2004 Athens games may now take the gold. Why? Retroactive drug testing:

Doping protocols allow for officials to store samples for eight years and retest them for substances they may not have been able to detect at the time the sample was taken. When Bilonog’s sample was analyzed in 2004 at the Olympics, the results were negative, doping officials said. Eight years later, with new tests at their disposal, officials decided to re-examine about 100 samples from the Athens Games, focusing on certain sports and medalists.

I'm kind of at the point that I don't care about athletes doping—I suspect that it's so widespread that it's no longer a competitive advantage, but rather a leveling of a dope-saturated playing field. I don't think that makes the competition that much less interesting: The drugs can't make the human body do more than it's capable of, ultimately.

The testing protocol might actually do more damage to the Olympics. What this means is that every competition you watch, the results are only provisional—and will remain so for up to a decade. The agony of defeat? The thrill of victory? Well, sure, as long as an asterisk is placed on each gold medal, a disclaimer read before every playing of the national anthem, noting that the results won't be official and final for another eight years. That sure seems to diminish the moment of competition.