Cheeseburger Paradise

There's something that's bugged me for a few years now: Why people who are overweight are overweight and why skinny people either stay skinny, get fatter, or judge overweight people.

You see, I think of nothing but interesting, important matters that affect the global economy.

Anyway, I finally stumbled upon the answer, which was discovered sometime a few weeks ago and I've not been able to figure out where I read the post which enlightened me. I believe it's buried in this post from Ferrett, but I'm not sure. He's written a lot on the subject.

The secret is this:

Fat people eat as a destination.

Thin people eat as a journey.

With me? Let's discuss:

When big, large, fat, hefty, husky, overweight, big boys and big girls eat (choose your politically correct term wisely), the pleasure is in the eating.  For large people, that after-meal glow of warm feelings in your belly is where it's at. They love it.

When skinny, small, thin, frail, bean pole/tiny people eat, it is simply to get them to their next interesting activity. That can be typing on the computer. That can be running a marathon. Biking. Hiking. Playing with their kids. Activities that require movement.

They're stocking up on calories to do things. To fat people, stocking up on calories is what you just did, so you don't need to do anything.

I've never met a fat guy who said, "Damn, after eating all of those doughnuts I'm ready to go tackle the gym!"

But I've met some (and had my own experiences) where I've said, "Wow, I feel horrible for eating all of that. But it feels so good!"

My buddy Tony has, over the past 10+ months, mastered the art of where to draw the line. Of what to put in his body and what not to. To take those good feelings he got from stuffing his stomach to good feelings post-workout.

I too once had those same feelings, but I screwed up: I never changed my eating habits.

About five years ago (Has it been that long? Why, yes it has...) I was in pretty decent shape. I went to the gym 2-3 times a week, and I generally ate what I wanted. This included a cheeseburger and fries everyday.

However, with the workouts I was burning that off and then some. I was losing weight. Probably not as fast as I would've liked, but by contrast I still liked my afternoon meals.

Soon I was down shirt sizes and pant sizes and getting those "Wow, you lose weight?" questions that feel oh-so-good.

But when Ericka got pregnant, I began spending more time at home and, specifically, spent every meal with the wife. When she ate, I ate. And since she was having a baby, my baby and all, I wanted to be with her. So the late-afternoon workouts stopped.

Soon I found a new job and moved to Oak Ridge. I even found a gym and got a three year membership for both me and Ericka. I tried to go there a few times a week, I really did. Ericka as well. It took about six months to ween me off completely, and when I lost my job the following year, there was a very tense time where I owed $1,500 to the gym due to lack of payment.

So when that was paid off, I still had the ability to go to the gym until June of this year.

Which I never did.

Which makes me feel horrible that I paid for 3 years of a service that only a portion of was actually used.

The point is, however, that those lost workouts are not the solution. The idea about what to eat and what it's doing for/to me is the solution. I've heard losing weight is a "lifestyle" choice for about a decade now, and it's still true.

However, the American lifestyle is pretty damn lazy. And the Average American, as you and I know it today, is pretty damn obese. It begins at birth and continues as kids get older.

And I worry about my health.

And I worry about my wife's health.

And I worry about my kids.

And I make sure that I don't force my children to 'clean their plate' when they say they're done, and I make sure that they're active (Ericka much more so than myself--thank you!) and I make sure that they aren't inundated with sugar at all hours of the day.

I've been watering down their juice since they were old enough to drink it (1/2 juice, 1/2 water). The only sugar-concession I can easily think of is we put syrup in their milk (chocolate and strawberry, respectively) because they like it.

My children have never had more than a sip of cola in my home. And hopefully, it will stay that way.

The point is, I feel a change coming. I'm not sure when or how or what, but it will come.

Either I'll begin it, or my health will force my hand.

And, after seeing the rerun of Mr. Extra Skin on Extreme Makeover this past weekend, I'm pretty sure I'd prefer the former.

Suddenly, all your history's ablaze
Try to breath as the world desintegrates