So there you are, in your little boat, bobbing along in the middle of a vast, seemingly endless ocean.
Some days the wind catches your sails and scoots you along, making your
journey easy and effortless. It doesn’t even seem like work as you
breezily skip across the water, enjoying the salt air and sunshine.
Most days, however, your progress doesn’t come that easy. More likely,
it depends on you sticking your oars in the water and rowing for all you
are worth.
And some days the waves will push you away from where you want to go.
That doesn’t seem quite fair, I know, but the ocean makes its own rules.
And every day, you’ll have to decide…
Should I turn back?
Am I content going nowhere?
Will I give in?
Right now, it may seem that your goal is forever-and-a-day away. You’re
lost and alone and the challenge ahead of you seems so large and
intimidating.
But remember this: you had the courage and commitment to strike out to
sea. You crossed huge hurdles and passed through severe storms.
You’ve made it this far.
Spotting dry land may take months, may take years, but if the course
you’ve plotted is true, then one day –– and maybe one day soon –– you’ll
make it to where you’re headed and be strengthened by the experience
all the more.
Your hopes, your dreams, your goals… they’re out there, within grasp if
you power through and persevere. Each day that you keep pushing forward,
each day that you stay pointed in the right direction... well, it's one
day closer to your goal.
January, 2007
– Well, I’ve been preparing myself for this, and here it is. Just
weighed in at 293.6. Pants are tight as can be. Exercise at an almost
all-time low. Eating completely out of control. Let’s see if I’ve got
what it takes to do right.
April, 2007
– Okay, this is a matter of life and death now. A person in the office
upstairs died in their car from a stroke, a result of high blood
pressure (my bp was crazy high when I went to doc for my foot). She was
48. Throw in my high level of stress and poor eating habits and I’m
ripe to go down early. Yuck. Feel bad.
December, 2007
– Last night of the year. I’m at home with a wrenched back from
playing ball yesterday. This is it. I’m really not doing very well.
Feeling crappy. Eating terribly. Not exercising much. Not accomplishing
much. I’m ready to get it going again. I’ve got to. It’s now or never.
July, 2008 – It’s on like a chicken bone.
April, 2008 – Been
doing decent enough job keeping after it, but still eating (and
drinking) too much. Think I’m ready to have a go at doing better.
January, 2009 – So I’m starting over…
Starting… and then starting over.
Again and again and again.
People
accuse me of making this weight-loss business look easy, but that’s
because they don’t know that I’ve rammed my head into that brick wall
more times than I care to admit. The dated blurbs above are some of my
journal entries from a couple of year’s worth of failed attempts at
losing my weight. I start with such fervor and focus and somewhere along
the line, I simply lose my way…
Over and over, I’ve gotten a nice running start… and gone nowhere.
I’ve gone back to Square One so many times that I started listing it as my primary address.
I’ve overdone it with the do-overs, absolutely worn out the “reset” button.
I’ve committed myself and re-committed myself, but more often than not I’ve fallen flat on my face.
Believe
me, I know what it’s like… but I also understand something else:
there’s no shame in tripping up, no disgrace in falling down. It’s just
something that happens to the best of us, to all of us.
And
even if you mess it up a dozen times, a hundred times… even if you
start each Monday with freshly minted determination and end each
Saturday night with your arm elbow deep into an order of chili cheese
fries… I encourage you to keep trying, to keep fighting the good fight.
Because
one day that spark is going to ignite, and a rampant wildfire of
inspiration and dedication will spontaneously embrace you, engulf you,
consume you. It will singe your bad habits and scorch your doubts, and
it will blaze a path to a better place.
I can’t for the life of
me distinguish the catalyst that makes one weight-loss journey
successful when so many before it had failed so spectacularly. I wish I
could isolate and identify it when it goes missing, awake and arouse
it when it lies dormant.
But I can’t. All I can do is keep
trying, and hold on for all I’m worth when that spark does catch. Try
to ride that lightning bolt all the way home…
I hope you’re on a
solid path today, your bags packed with persistence and purpose. I
hope you’ve got your heels dug in and your mind firmly wrapped around
what you need to do in order to achieve your goals. I hope you find
strength in your heart, hope and support from those around you and a
plan that gives you every opportunity to succeed beyond your wildest
dreams.
I’ve seen enough lost causes and dashed dreams to last a lifetime; I want to see you make this happen.
Like you, I watch a lot of old vaudeville clips and was particularly
taken by this ditty from the comedy team of Ed Gallagher and Al Shean.
Gallagher
and Shean performed this song in vaudeville beginning in 1920. They
also used it on Broadway in the 1922 Ziegfeld Follies. New verses were
frequently added to fit special occasions or current events.
This stylish chick always makes me think of better days gone by, plus she’s got a fantastic weight-loss story (as well as a bitchin’ blog).
Anyway, it all came together in my head for a vaudeville- and bitchcakes-inspired extravaganza...
Jack: Oh! Missus Bitchcakes, Oh! Missus Bitchcakes,
I’ve gotta tell you, lady You’re got style I’d like to steal A fantastic sense of fashion Not to mention retro passion While I buy all my duds Down at the Goodwill.
Sheryl: Oh! Mister Sh*t, Oh! Mister Sh*t, Your sophistication’s A bit lacking, I’ll admit. Just remember, if you can, It’s not the clothes that make the man.
Jack: Oh! I thank you, Missus Bitchcakes. Sheryl: You’re quite welcome, Mister Sh*t.
Jack: Oh! Missus Bitchcakes, Oh! Missus Bitchcakes, Weight Watchers seems to be the way you roll. Counting points with all your eating, And weighing in at every meeting. Hey, whatever helps you Help you reach your goal.
Sheryl: Oh! Mister Sh*t, Oh! Mister Sh*t, I think Weight Watchers could help you quite a bit. I wish that you would try it. It’s a real smart way to diet.
Jack: It’s too expensive, Missus Bitchcakes. Sheryl: You’re a cheapskate, Mister Sh*t.
Jack: Oh! Missus Bitchcakes, Oh! Missus Bitchcakes, I saw some pictures of you Riding on your bike. I saw you stylin’ on your seat, As you pedaled down the street, And I thought that we are very much alike.
Sheryl: Oh! Mister Sh*t, Oh! Mister Sh*t, A bike seat’s definitely a nice place to sit. I’m just sorry you don’t know how it feels To ride without the training wheels.
Jack: Oh that’s harsh, Missus Bitchcakes. Sheryl: Just the truth now, Mister Sh*t.
Jack: Oh! Missus Bitchcakes, Oh! Missus Bitchcakes,
It’s good to start your day With a healthy dose of fruit. No matter what the type, Just as long as it is ripe. It’ll help keep you looking good In your birthday suit.
Sheryl: Oh! Mister Sh*t, Oh! Mister Sh*t, I’m not sure that your breakfast There is too legit. I’ve got to tell you, oops There’s no fruit in your Fruit Loops.
Jack: You got me, Missus Bitchcakes. Sheryl: I don’t want you, Mister Sh*t.
Jack: Oh! Missus Bitchcakes, Oh! Missus Bitchcakes, Come jump into the pool; the water’s fine. Maybe you’d like to swim some laps, Or just splash around perhaps. Just don’t worry if your form’s Not as good as mine.
Sheryl: Oh! Mister Sh*t, Oh! Mister Sh*t, (splash) Swimming’s a great way to keep us nice and fit. I can give you lessons if it helps. Compared to you, I’m Michael Phelps.
Jack: Hey, nice breast stroke, Missus Bitchcakes. Sheryl: Good dog-paddling, Mister Sh*t.
Jack: Oh! Missus Bitchcakes, Oh! Missus Bitchcakes!
Sheryl: Is that a photo album You’ve got there, Mister Sh*t?
Jack: There’s hardly any pics of me, Since I was big enough for three. I only said “Cheese” when It was real cheese I could get.
Sheryl: Why Mister Sh*t, Why Mister Sh*t. No one’s ever gonna confuse you with Brad Pitt. But now for photos by your friends, We won’t need the wide-angle lens.
Jack: Snap my picture, Missus Bitchcakes? Sheryl: Give us a smile now, Mister Sh*t.
Once upon a time, there was a wise old Chinese dude named Confush*t who often said wise and quotable things.
Now
Confush*t had two large pots for carrying water, each hung on the ends
of a pole which he carried across his neck as Chinese fellows so often
do in stories such as this.
One of the pots was beautiful and
perfect and always delivered a full portion of water, but the other one
had a nasty crack in it. At the end of the long walk from the stream to
the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years
this went on daily, with Confush*t delivering only one and a half pots
full of water to his house.
Of course, the perfect pot was proud
of its accomplishments, perfect for which it was made. But the poor
cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it
was able to accomplish only half of what it had been put on this Earth
to do. After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it
spoke to Confush*t one day by the stream.
“I am ashamed of myself because this crack in my side causes water to leak all the way back to your house.”
Confush*t
spoke softly to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only
on your side of the path, but not on the other pot’s side? That's
because I have always known about your flaw, and I planted flower seeds
on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you’ve
watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful
flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are,
there would not be this beauty to grace the house.”
The flawed pot replied, “Thank you, dear Confush*t. I don’t feel so worthless anymore.”
“Worthless?”
laughed Confush*t. “Do you know what a talking pot goes for on eBay
these days? The bidding is up to $4,500 and there’s still three days
left…”
Moral: Each of us
has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots. But it’s the cracks
and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting
and rewarding. Look for the good in each person you meet. And it’s true:
talking pots will fetch a bundle on eBay.
A long, long time ago,
I can still remember
How my obesity made me cry.
And I knew if I had my chance,
That I could fit into my pants.
And maybe I’d be a happy weight-loss guy.
But February gave me cravings,
So much I chewed on the pet’s wood shavings.
Bad news on the damn scale,
I couldn't take that ham smell.
I didn’t know how I’d survive,
But I knew I needed extra drive.
I knew my health I must revive,
The day I came alive
So bye-bye, Mr. Fatass-ed Guy.
Leave those binges on the fringes,
Give healthy eating a try.
End them bad old days of eatin’ ham, swiss and rye.
I’m sayin’ this’ll be the day that I diet.
This’ll be the day that I diet.
Did you read the book of Beck,
And do you suffer from a turkey neck?
Does the mirror tell you so?
Do you believe you’ll reach your goal?
Can this journey save your mortal soul?
And can you learn how to eat real slow?
Well, I know that you're in love with ham,
But it’s time for you to give a damn.
It’s time to lace up your shoes.
Man, I dig it when people lose!
I was a lonely overweight writin’ dude,
With a bad obsession with unhealthy food.
If I didn’t change, I was surely screwed.
The day I came alive.
I started singin’
Bye-bye, Mr. Fatass-ed Guy.
Leave those binges on the fringes.
Give healthy eating a try.
End them bad old days of eatin’ ham, swiss and rye.
I’m sayin’ this’ll be the day that I diet.
This’ll be the day that I diet.
Now for ten months I've been losin’ weight,
And tryin’ to get all of my sh*t straight
But that's not how it used to be
When I spent all my free time on the couch,
Working on my beer-belly pouch
And turning into a first-class grouch.
Oh, and then as I was about to drown,
I managed to turn it all around.
The tide had finally turned.
New lessons I had learned.
And now I’ve started to get fit,
And if you think that I’ll ever quit
Then I’m afraid you don’t know Jack Sh*t.
Now that I’ve come alive.
I started singin’…
Bye-bye, Mr. Fatass-ed Guy.
Leave those binges on the fringes.
Give healthy eating a try.
End them bad old days of eatin’ ham, swiss and rye.
I’m sayin’ this’ll be the day that I diet.
This’ll be the day that I diet.
Hocus pocus, now my life’s in focus,
I’ve quit eating like I’m a locust.
Ninety pounds down and falling fast.
I may fall and bust my ass,
But I’m gonna keep tryin’ to lose my mass.
I won’t keep failing like in the past.
Now I’m watchin’ exactly what I eat,
While working out like an athlete.
Each day I get up to sweat.
Do I bust my ass? You bet!
‘Cause when I get in a workout mode,
I feel my energy explode.
Time to get this show on the road.
The day I came alive.
Let’s all start singin’…
Bye-bye, Mr. Fatass-ed Guy.
Leave those binges on the fringes.
Give healthy eating a try.
End them bad old days of eatin’ ham, swiss and rye.
I’m sayin’ this’ll be the day that I diet.
This’ll be the day that I diet.
Oh, so here we are all in one place,
Runners in an endless race
With no time left to start again.
So come on, Jack be crazy, Jack be crude,
Jack Sh*t is a wacky weight-loss dude,
But he knows what you’re going through, my friend.
So let’s start and get this thing in gear,
And we can drop some pounds in here.
No angel born in Hell,
Could be meaner than our scale.
And as we keep having great success
In our efforts to weigh less,
We’ll take our lives out of distress.
The day we came alive.
Let’s all start singin’…
Bye-bye, Mr. Fatass-ed Guy.
Leave those binges on the fringes.
Give healthy eating a try.
End them bad old days of eatin’ ham, swiss and rye.
I’m sayin’ this’ll be the day that I diet.
This’ll be the day that I diet.
If I met the guy who wrote this song,
I’d ask him why it’s so damned long.
What were you thinking away?
He’d probably tell me “Don’t be absurd…
Songwriters get paid by the word,
But don’t worry cuz you’ve made it halfway…”
And at his desk the blogger screamed.
He’d bit off way too much, it seemed.
But still he planned to persist,
Even with carpal tunnel in both wrists.
And then he started feeling splendid,
Cuz he realized it had nearly ended.
Will he do it again? (not recommended)
The day I came alive.
Let’s all start singin’…
Bye-bye, Mr. Fatass-ed Guy.
Leave those binges on the fringes.
Give healthy eating a try.
End them bad old days of eatin’ ham, swiss and rye.
I’m sayin’ this’ll be the day that I diet.
This’ll be the day that I diet.
Let’s all start singin’…
Bye-bye, Mr. Fatass-ed Guy.
Leave those binges on the fringes.
Give healthy eating a try.
End them bad old days of eatin’ ham, swiss and rye.
I’m sayin’ this’ll be the day that I diet.
This’ll be the day that I diet.
I just wanted you to know that I see how much
you’ve been struggling lately. I know things have been difficult, but I
wanted to remind you of a few things…
One, you’re awesome.
Two,
this path you’re on, it’s rough-and-tumble stuff. One day you feel like
you’re on top of the mountain, the next you’re rolling back down in a
out-of-control somersault. And we both know that the climb back isn’t so
much treacherous as it is tiresome. Some days we just get so damn weary
with it all…
That said, look at how far you’ve come. You may
think it’s nothing to celebrate, what you’ve achieved thus far, but I
say every step… every freakin’ step… is worthy of being celebrated.
Three,
falling isn’t failing. You’ll have bad days here and there; we all have
setbacks that shake our confidence and exhaust our resolve, but I’m convinced that you’re
convinced that you know what to do now, and more importantly, what’s at
stake. Going back to the way things were simply isn’t an option.
Four,
it’s all worth it in the end. I know you question whether that’s true
or not, but I promise you that it is. It may seem so far away right now,
but every step forward brings you closer to where you want to be.
This is a long journey we’re on; don’t be afraid to lean on your friends from time to time.
And lastly, have I told you lately that you’re awesome?
Long
ago, there lived an emperor, who was… well, let’s just say he made
Henry the Eighth look like Sammy the Skinny Serf. When Shakespeare said
“heavy is the head that wears the crown,” this was the guy he was
probably talking about.
Anyway, even though he was morbidly
obese, he always took great pains to dress impeccably. In fact, there
were only two things the emperor really liked: clothes and macaroni and
cheese (well, technically that’s three things).
He didn’t care
for his soldiers, and the theatre did not amuse him; the only thing, in
fact, he thought anything of was to hit the drive-thru window of the
kingdom’s fast food joints and go shopping for new duds at Ye Olde Big
& Tall Emporium. He had a coat for every hour of the day, and even a
special coat that he wore to the… ummmm… when he was going to the
“throne” room.
One day a man named Charlie Ton came to this city.
This guy made people believe that he was a mighty weight-loss wizard,
and declared he could help anyone in the kingdom lose weight without
diet or exercise. Though they were ignorant peasants, most of the
inhabitants of the land were too smart to be taken in by the conniving
con man.
However, losing weight without diet or exercise sounded
pretty much okey-dokey to the emperor, so he granted an audience to the
scurrilous scammer.
“What is it?” asked the emperor hungrily.
“Adkins? South Beach? Please tell me that I do NOT have to have someone
count points for me…”
“No, sire,” replied the smiling Charlie. “You just don these magic pants and you can eat whatever it is thy heart doth desire.”
The
emperor was obliviously happy and took the magic trousers. He had his
attendants disrobe him and he slipped on the new pants.
“Check it out!” he said, admiring himself in his royal mirror. “They feel great! And they even have a drawbridge.”
“Do you mean a ‘drawstring,’ my liege?” asked his head attendant.
After
the beheading, the new head attendant commented on the emperor’s
attire: “My, those pants for stylin’, forsooth! How’s that drawbridge
feel?”
“Fantastic,” laughed the emperor. “Now let’s go get our buffet on!”
A
month went by and the emperor never took off his magic pants, but he
did have to loosen the draw… the drawbridge once or twice.
Then
one day, while out serving as official starter for the Annual King
Spring Fling 5K run, a young boy pointed at him and scoffed.
“Ha! The emperor’s wearing sweat pants in public! He’s given up!”
Sadly,
the emperor realized that the young lad was correct. That night, he
started a new diet, began a strenuous exercise program and launched his
own blog: “Losing Weight… My Crowning Achievement”.
“Unbelievable! Perhaps they refrigerate their snacks,” suggested Fatson. “For freshness.”
Sh*tlock swung open the refrigerator door, and his assistant peered over his shoulder.
“I
don’t understand it,” blubbered Fatson. “There’s nothing in here but
fresh fruits and vegetables. No one eats like this. It’s impossible.”
Sh*tlock
shook his head as he held a red plum to his face to examine it more
closely. “How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the
impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?”
Sh*tlock sniffed at the air, then moved toward the laundry room.
“Fatson,” said Sh*tlock. “Take a big whiff in that laundry hamper.”
Fatson obliged, but reeled backwards after sticking his face down to smell.
“Just as I suspected,” hmmmmmm’ed Sh*tlock. “Exercise.”
Fatson shook his head, “Have you figured the mystery out yet, Sh*tlock?”
“I
believe I have, Fatson,” he said, pacing back and forth in the hallway.
“The lack of junk food, the abundance of healthy nutritional items and
the sweat-soaked workout clothes indicate a successful weight loss
journey is underway.”
“That’s it, Sh*tlock,” exclaimed Fatson. “But you haven’t solved the mystery of where the missing pounds went. Do you have the answer to that, Holmes?”
“I believe I have, my good man,” said Sh*tlock. “Look over your shoulder.”
“What?” asked Fatson.
“Lower,” suggested Sh*tlock.
“There?” croaked Fatson.
“Yes, my good fellow,” said Sh*tlock. “Right there on your ass.”
“Ahh, yes,” frowned Watson, sucking his gut in a bit. “Mystery solved.”
Sometimes it's hard to be at weigh-in. Giving all you can to lose some weight. You'll have bad times, And you’ll have worse times, Eatin’ things you know you shouldn’t have ate. But you can diet, I mean, really try it, Though it’s been hard since you began. And if you love ham, Just please don’t eat ham Cause, after all, it’s not on your plan.
Stand on your scale. Write down the weight it says to. Hope it gives you something warm to cling to When meals are cold and pointless.
Stand on your scale, And tell your blog what you weigh. Keep giving it all, you’re doing swell. Stand on your scale.
Ba bum bummm bummmmm
Stand on your scale, And show the world you’re tryin’. Keep giving all, keep giving hell. Stand on your scale.
I
started working on this post about taking a one-bite-at-a-time attitude
to your weight loss efforts, but then I realized that the title of the
post was a bit misleading. I remembered that many of my Eskimo readers
(Hi, Nyako, Tapenga and Dadgayadoh) would take the title literally and
would be expecting whale-preparation tips. Once I get going with one of
these blog entries, I really hate to change directions, so I suppose
this post should actually be titled “How Do You Eat A Whale, Both
Literally and Figuratively?”
Well, obviously… first you need to
catch a whale. Lucky for you, I have some experience with this. I went
on a whale-watching boat trip a couple of summers ago down in Sayulita,
Mexico. Our boat came in nice and tight on several of the buggers, and I
can tell you this from first-hand experience: they’re big. I’m just
not sure that your average rod-and-reel is going to be able to handle
one of these mothers. I’m certainly no fishing expert, but I’d go with a
Shimano Spheros 18000FB with the Paladin gear-enhancement, higher line
capacity and cold-forged spools with improved drag-systems. And don’t
forget the worms!
Let’s just assume, for a minute, that you can’t catch a whale. Don’t feel too bad; I couldn’t either
(I didn’t have my fishing gear with me; what’s your excuse?). There’s a
simple solution, my friend. Just go over to Japan where they sell fresh
whale, frozen whale, canned whale, cubed whale, dried whale, pickled
whale and whale-on-a-stick. Can’t get to Japan? Geez, don’t you know how
to use MapQuest yet, stupid?
So now you’ve got yourself a nice hunk of juicy whale meat. Now what?
I
found this recipe for Whale Stew on the internet. Have you ever started
making something and you didn’t check the ingredient list to make sure
your cupboard was stocked with everything you need to make the dish?
That’s exactly what happened to me on this one. Don’t be a dumbass like
me: check and make sure that you have all the ingredients you need
before you start cooking.
Directions:
Place whale in pot with tomato sauce. Cook at 300 degrees for 4 hours.
Add onions, potatoes, carrots, celery, salt, pepper and Tabasco sauce.
Simmer 36 hours. Serves 347,161 people.
Truthfully, this recipe is just “okay.” If I make it again, I’m gonna add a pinch of oregano.
Let’s
say that you’re just trying to learn more about figuratively eating a
whale, you know, like losing a whole lot of weight. Well, in that case
you should just take it “one bite at a time.” Sorry, I was going to
write a lot more about the subject, but I used up too much space for the
Eskimos (Message to Nyako, Tapenga and Dadgayadoh: “Inuktitut (goodbye)
and have an ‘ice’ weekend!”.
Next time, I’ll try to put the weight loss stuff first.
Have
you ever left a comment on somebody’s weight loss blog, and then
immediately thought “Oh, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say?” And
then you were going to erase it and write something more sensible, but
then your daughter Pisa calls you at the office and tells you to bring
home popsicle sticks for a project she’s working on so you gotta spend
the rest of the day eating popsicles even when you’re not really that
hungry and the Popsicle Dude only had lime popsicles after you chased
him all the way down the street yelling “Whoa! Stop! Popsicle Dude!”
Yeah, me too.
“You’ve come a long way, Fatty.”
“Maybe your mom hates you.”
“Your kid sure is funny-looking.”
“If anything, it looks like you’ve gained weight.”
“Maybe they fired you because you were incompetent.”
“That haircut is hideous.”
“Wow, your daughter’s smokin’. What’s her email address?”
“That dish looks like somebody threw up on a plate.”
“Jesus… just give up already.”
“Maybe he hasn’t called because he’s been in a car accident.”
“Just do everything your husband says and your marriage will be fine.”
“Have you ever heard of “spelcheck,” stupid?
“I lose more than that when I break wind.”
“Will you please quit talking about 'losing a stone'? I don’t even know what that means…”
“Who designed your blog… a sea-sick chimpanzee?”
“You deserve a reward. How about a pan of warm brownies and a glass of whole milk?”
“Gain because of TOM? Riiiiiiiiiiiight.”
“LOL at your cancer story.”
Now be sure and leave me a comment today... but thinkabout it before you do.
It’s
a myth, you know, that overweight people suffer from low self-esteem
more than the rest of the population. In fact, psychological tests given
to overweight folks have proven that obese individuals are, on balance,
just as mentally healthy (or unhealthy) as anyone else. There’s no
support for the idea that overeating is generally associated with poor
mental or emotional health. Quite the opposite, actually; many slim
people who were interviewed said they wouldn’t have the courage to go
out if they were obese. They’d simply stay at home and hide their fat
faces.
Think about it: you get up every morning, get out of bed
and face the world head-on. You accept strangers’ stares, children’s
cruel comments and friends’ “helpful” advice, all with a wane smile and
gentle good grace. You’ve recognized the inner demons that have put you
in the state you’re in, and you’re going about doing something about it.
You’re getting your life in check, as well as providing emotional
support for others who are also getting their lives in check.
Here’s my point: you’re not weak.
Here’s my second point (and this may sting a little): you’ve got to get stronger.
You’ve
got to get stronger because this is a long, uphill climb, and it will
take its toll on you, both mentally and physically. You’ve got to get
stronger because time is not on
your side, and Life will jump up and throw hurdle after hurdle after
hurdle in your path. You’ve got to get stronger because me and everyone
else that follows your story aren’t going to be satisfied until you
reach your goals.
We’ve all got our own ways of fighting this
fight, our own methods to this madness. You may cut carbs, she may count
calories, he may swim 50 laps a day, I may simply try to eat smarter
and exercise more. There’s no one way–no right way–to get there from
here.
But ask yourself this: Am I really doing all I can to succeed?
If
you can honestly say “yes,” then God bless you, but I suspect that
you’re in the minority if that’s truly the case. I know this is going to
sound… well, funny… coming from a guy named Jack Sh*t who spends half
his day telling fart jokes and making kooky lists, but you’ve got to get
serious about this if you want to find the success you claim you want.
You need to shift it into high gear, and start getting it done, and I
mean like, today. You can
half-ass it for as long as you want, but the real results aren’t going
to happen for you until you knuckle down. Until you get serious.
There
is a lion in my heart, and he’s roaring at the fat that I’ve saddled
myself with by being stupid and lazy. Roaring at the complacency that
allowed me to put my own health and future in jeopardy. He’s roaring at
me every day, filling my spirit with grit and reminding me that this is
my day, this is my time. He’s pushing me to run wild and pounce on this
chance, this opportunity to reclaim my life.
This journey is not for the weak or the meek; it is for the strong-willed and the lion-hearted.
