Clear Out a Guest Room...

Welcome to “Same Old Sh*t” Saturday, where I go away and do fun things and make you read something that I wrote and posted months ago. Yay! Since I started my weight-loss blogapalooza back in April, I’ve written hundreds of posts, but this one (thanks to the magic of StumbleUpon) has been the most highly viewed by a four- or five-to-one margin. Truthfully, I never know how some of the stuff I write is going to be received; I was a little worried that this one would come off as too preachy, but it was definitely delivered from the heart.

You’re having problems losing this weight, maybe.

Teeter-tottering back and forth on the scale. Small gain this week, small loss next.

Three good days, one bad weekend.

Nothing that allows you to get any traction.

I feel for you; I really do. I read blogs by people who can’t seem to get going with their weight loss efforts, can’t seem to make that spark happen, and it makes me want to go to their house and bang on the flint with ‘em. It makes me want to drop everything and make it my mission to push them… push you… up that hard-to-climb hill.

You know what I’d do?

• I’d drag you, kicking and screaming if I had to, to the gym every day. “How about an ‘off” day?” you’d cry. “How about a ‘Fat Off’ Day?” I’d respond. I’d find whatever it is that motivates you… kind words, gentle prodding or harsh taunting… and I’d coax a good half hour to 45 minutes out of you. You’d hate me at the end of it, but you’d hate me with a smile on your sweaty mug.
• I’d fix you stay-at-home dinners that would both intrigue you and fill you up, enough so that you might not have the urge to sneak back to the pantry before bedtime (not that it would matter, since I would have filled a Hefty bag with every processed snack product I could find). I’d insist that we eat slowly and drink lots of water during dinner. I’d remind you that you don’t have to scrape the plate clean. With my cooking, you probably won’t need that much urging.
• I’d unplug your TV and computer at 10 p.m. or so and shoo you to bed. F*ck the beauty sleep; you need energy sleep.
• I’d get you up bright and early and feed you a hearty breakfast. “I can’t lose weight eating like this,” you’d protest, and I’d just smile a knowing smile. “Don’t forget the lunch I packed you.” Before you left, I’d take the money out of your wallet because… well, let’s just say I don’t quite trust you yet.
• We’d go on long walks, you and I. Long, brisk walks. We’d talk about our hopes and dreams, our goals and aspirations, my endless collection of really stupid jokes. Whatever. Important stuff or not. The walking’s the important thing.
• If you hate your job, I mean really and truly despise it, then I’d plot and plan with you to figure out some way to either make it better for yourself or help you find a new one. You hate your body… that’s enough things to hate for one person at one time.
• I’d make you so many smoothies you’d start to cringe when you heard the blender fire up, and there’s one question I’d refuse to answer: “What’s in this anyway?”
• Don’t think I’d be doing this for completely selfless reasons either. One of the reasons I spend so much time on these blogs is that I feed off the spirit of others who are facing (and overcoming) the same hurdles and challenges that I am. We’re all on our own, at the end of the day, but we’re all in this together, too. I draw energy from that idea.
• And speaking of energy, I’d do everything I could to instill some focus and extra drive in you and we’d attack this problem… and make no mistake about it, my friend, this is a problem that needs to be owned up to and solved. We’d make a plan about eating and we'd make a plan about exercise, and then we'd start doing the hard part: we’d stick to it. This wouldn’t be just about burning calories; it’d be about incinerating them.
• And then there’s the fun part: I’d walk you up to that weigh-in with certainty and confidence, and I’d high-five you when you rock that scale and console you when it cheated us out of that loss that we so richly deserved.

We could do this, you and I. I’m certain that we could. I have not a doubt in this world.

But I can’t do it with you, right now. There’s too much on my plate at the moment (well, not literally… but you know what I mean). I can’t do it with you right now, but everything I’d do with you, you can do for yourself if you put your mind to it.

I hope you will do it. If you will, I promise you two things: (1) you’ll see results and (2) somewhere, be it just down the street, across the country or around the world, there’s at least one person right there with you, trying their best, working hard at doing what’s right and getting ready to face whatever it is tomorrow will bring.

Let’s do this.