Remember the last time I wore this?

Nope, neither do I! I went clothes "shopping" in the dark side of the closet; that section where old too-thin clothes go to hide and you say, "One of these days I'll get back into it." Well, it looks like "one of these days" was today for a nice blue pair of pants I really like!

After five weeks of following the new Weight Watchers Momentum Plan,
when I weighed in last week (my weigh in day is Tuesday), I had lost
another pound, making the grand total eight pounds!!! They say a safe
weight loss is 1-2 pounds a week and, despite the plateau for weeks 2,
3, 4, I'm doing just about the average.

 I stood on the scale this morning and had to do a double take. I don't
get on the scale as much as I used to because I found myself obsessing
on it. If the loss is less than I am expecting, I feel bad and say, "Screw it, might as well eat…" If I'm doing well, I say, "Wow! I've got room to move. I can get a little sloppy." Either path leads to the kitchen, and before you know it, I'm eating again. So, I stay off the scale…mostly.

Since my weigh in day is Tuesday, I do tend to get a little antsy on Mondays, so I got on the scale this morning and couldn't believe my eyes! Lately, my morning naked weight (you know, trying to get the lowest possible number) had been around 184-186, which was too high. I got on the program again because early December, it got to 189 and that was just too freakin' scary.  When I'm doing real well, my morning weight will be about 180-182. This morning, it was 178! I thought, "What? Is the scale broken?" I got off and on it three times just to make sure. It hasn't been under 180 in as long as I can remember!

Granted, since it seems appropriate to remove all my clothes for my Weight Watchers weigh in, I'll weigh four or five pound more. Still, it's all relative, isn't it?

So, what to do?

Well, the first thing is to run to the closet and dig into the way-back machine of clothing that's too frustrating to put on. There are about four or five shirts I used to like but the buttons pull across my chest or stomach now and it looks tacky. Not to mention, it reminds me that I need to lose weight. I also have about two or three pair of pants back there. The price for wearing them is that I must give up my attachment to breathing.

I tried on the brown ones; nice chocolate color and — without holding my breath or lying on the bed — they slipped right on but are a little short; a sign that I need to lose about two or three more pounds before I venture into the world wearing them. I could have but who needs to be self conscious all day because my pant legs are riding above my ankles? (We used to call those "high waters" when I was a kid and I hated it then.) So, I pulled out the blue ones; lo and behold – marvelous fit and the correct length. I can bend over and breathe! Praise the saints!

Well, with that victory under my belt (literally and figuratively), I needed a shirt and found one of my old favorites. It's been so long that I forgot I even had it. So, I'm wearing a Nehru jacket! (Naw, just joking, it hasn't been that long…) I found a blue and white vertical striped shirt with white color that I used to just love.  Wearing it — with a dark blue tie. Looking and feeling fine!

Oh yeah, the coup de grace; I had to go down another notch in my belt!

Missed Yoga – feel bad. Who would have thought that would happen?

Who would have ever thought I'd be upset about NOT being able to get to my Yoga class? Something is definitely askew!

Over two months ago now (can you believe it?), I started taking Yoga in order to deal with my borderline high blood pressure and advancing years. Also, it's something I've said I'm going to do for a long time. I bought Yoga DVDs and I was kinda, sorta, doing it every once in a little while; you know how it is. Anyway, in conjunction with the work I was kinda sorta doing with my kinda sort trainer, I committed to actually paying the monthly fee at Healthsport and getting involved in Yoga. One of the hardest things I have done was sign the little form authorizing them to take the money every month from my account. I wanted to do pay and play. No, that's not how it's done. Or maybe my trainer knew me too well and just didn't give me that option; food for thought…

So,  class number one was a joke. First of all, I was wearing sweatpants so I was indeed… sweating. I don't like to sweat. I prefer to "glisten." However, the worst part about the sweating was that my palms got slippery and when you're engaged in the pose from hell (which they call "Downward Dog") and you have to rely on the palms of your hands to prevent you from sliding across the floor, the last think you need is moisture on your hands. I thought, "Oh my God! Save me! I'm never gonna make it." My arms ached. My legs hurt. My shoulders throbbed.

It might not have been so bad if I had a realistic expectation but  I assumed it would be just standing around chanting while gracefully bending into relaxing life-affirming, all-mellow poses. (OK, I really didn't think that but I was hoping it would be.) Turns out I'm bending and stretching into positions that the human body finds someone counter-intuitive; or at least this 54 year old human body does.

"Put your arms here," the instructor would say, trying to guide me into a forward lunge.

"I'm trying, they don't go there."

"They will. Try this."

 And with her gentle (?) assistance, I would reach further than I was designed to reach and proceed (partially due to the aforementioned sweaty palms) to be laying flat on my nose, feeling like a factory-reject Weeble, (you remember those round big-bottom heavy-weighted
toys that fell over all the time. "Weebles wobble but they don't fall
down." Although, I would fall down so I don't know why I felt like a
Weeble. Maybe it was that the pain was causing me to hallucinate.)

At session's end,  I had aches in places where I didn't even know I had places. Raising my arms above my shoulders required assistance and my walk seemed to have developed a straight-legged lurching punctuated with "ouch" and "oof" every third footfall.

If this is what better health feels like, it's highly overrated. I'm so outta here…

And then, I heard the words I tell so many others when they're losing weight, "Be patient. Be kind to yourself. Take small steps. Go easy. Don't compare yourself to others." Besides, I thought, if I'm supposed to be someone who motivates others on how to make changes, it seems appropriate that I should be able to actually DO some of the changes.

Since I was on the "more mature" side of the attendees, I also consoled my aching muscles and hyper-stretched limbs by saying to myself, "The other people in the room admire you for trying to make changes at your age. They probably leave after class and say to each other, 'Did you see that old guy in there? You gotta admire a guy like that trying to do this at his age.'" That spurred me on a little. Who knows, they could have all been meeting standing around doing Warrior  and extended Triangle poses and laughing at the old guy who keep toppling over, but what I don't know won't hurt me — so I assumed the former.

And also, I gotta tell you it is so much easier to tell someone else how to make a change than it is to actually do it yourself. Doing the walk is nowhere near as much fun as just blustering one's way through the talk.

Anyhow, back to the story

I know that if you schedule something, you're more inclined to do it. So, I opened my (not so trusty) Palm Treo and scheduled the Tuesday morning session from Hell for every week. Then, you know what? I decided, "Well, if I'm in for a dime, I'm in for a dozen." Corny expression; doesn't even make sense; but I added a Friday appointment. More importantly I went.

Different teacher, a little softer but still awkward. From there, I added Wednesday evenings. And now, it's become a routine.

My teacher asked me how I was feeling about the classes. I said, "I've gone from dreading them to just being worried about them." I assume that's improvement.

I am walking taller. A fellow staffer at the 2009 Weight Watchers conference (where they taught us the new Momentum plan) approached me and said I had a "great walk." She didn't know me. She didn't know I was in Yoga. But, it was great to hear because — well, because it was. I mean, who doesn't like compliments? (And I have a killer walk, I might add. You'd be jealous if you saw it. You'd say, "Wow! He might be clumsy in Yoga, but damn, what a gait!)

As things go, one class to another, one muscle to another, one pose into another. Cobra. High Lunge. Plank. Boat pose. Little by little they're shaping up. When I compare myself to the teacher (or most of the class, I feel like they're trying to bend a board. When I think about how far I've moved, I feel like ribbon. And I love the feeling of relaxation (and relief) when we finally get to Corpse pose (which is pretty much self explanatory).

So, why didn't I go?

I have a cold right now and I got all ready to go and then started a sneezing fit. My greater angels won out. I realized that I would consider it dedication. The others in my class would consider it rude.  It's one thing to have a middle age guy who falls over all the time in the class; that might even be a little motivational in some unusual way. However, if he sneezing all over me, not so much.

So, I am at home writing this story; sharing with you and constantly watching the clock; feeling like I am really missing out on something; my yoga session. I would have never thought…

One Minute Survey On What Motivates You?

We’ve all got them; those habits we’d like to change: losing weight, getting fit, exercising more, spending more time with the family. Whatever it is, I’ve set up a one-minute survey as part of my new, motivational support website. Please take the survey by clicking here. There’s no obligation. Right now, I’m just trying to get it moving. Thanks.  (Feel free to pass it along to others.)

The Plight of THINspiration – and a Positive Blog

Years ago, I reserved the URL, www.THINspiration.com. I thought it was a clever name for what I speak about and what I do. I still think it is.

What I did not know then was that "thinspiration" is a term used by young women (and a few young men) in the "pro-ana" community. "Pro-ana" stands for pro-anorexic. In other words, these women suffer from anorexia or bulimia. They know they do. However, they do not want to be treated or cured; rather they look for support in how to sustain the condition. When they look for support, they search for "thinspiration."

If you do such a search, you will find loads of listings of blogs and photos of these women helping each other. Unfortunately, my website will also show up on that list.

I was not aware of the use of the word "thinspiration" in this context until some time after I set up my site when I would start getting hate e-mail from people telling me that it’s my fault that their daughter or sister was sick. As these types of email go, they were — of course — incomplete in their rationale as to why or how I had done this to their loved ones so I had no idea what was going on nor why I was receiving this.

It wasn’t until someone sent me an email saying she congratulated me on being a male dedicated to pro-ana that I found out what this was all about. Of course, I had to correct her and I posted that announcement on my website too, thinking it would help deter the others. I was naive then, not understanding search engines.  So, now, not only did I have a URL with the name "Thinspiration" in it, I posted the words "pro-ana" on a main page. (Big dummy me!) I started getting ever more hits and more crazies sending me emails.

To make matters worse, the media picked up on the pro-ana movement. Then things went really crazy!

Good News, Bad News, and a Plan

When someone says they have good news and bad news for you, are you one of the people who likes to hear the good news first or the bad news first? I’m one who prefers to get the bad news out of the way. Then, I have something to look forward to. So, since it’s my blog, I’ll give you the bad news first.

The Bad News

I’m up about four pounds over the last few weeks. You know how it is, a little sloppiness here, a bit of roughness around the edges there, guests, holidays, travel, trying to get everything done around the house. I stopped walking and riding my bike as often as I was. It just all piled up. I say my priorities are my health, but then I let that slip away by putting on a few pounds.

I’ve been on this road enough times to know not to beat myself up. Jeeze! If that worked, I’d be skinny as a toothpick. So, I’ve got a plan.

Perspective: Of Diets and a Collapsed Bridge

Sometimes, I get so caught up in my feelings of resentment about not being able to "eat what I want" or having to get up early to exercise.

I get cranky. I get upset. I feel life isn’t fair.

Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s OK to feel cheated or picked upon. After all feelings are what feelings are.

But, then a story as horrific as the collapse of the Minneapolis
bridge takes place. (I would have posted a picture but you’ve probably
seen it by now and each time I see it, my heart sinks.)

OK, so I have to eat less before I go to bed. I have to count
calories or exercise when I don’t want to. At least I’m here to feel
that. On the grand scale of problems, I cut back on food while half the
world hopes to fill its belly. It could be worse; far, far worse.

My prayers go out to Minneapolis. You are not alone.