So I'm back. At least, I'd like to be back. I have some serious doubts about whether or not I can succeed this time, but I have to at least try.
Over the past few months I have been engaged in the most spectacular backslide of my life. As of writing this post, I weigh 285.4 pounds. That's nearly a 45 pound gain from my low a couple years ago. Nothing I own fits anymore. My jeans hurt me if I wear them for more than a few hours, but I refuse to buy bigger pants. I have been eating because I've been stressed, I've been eating because I've been tired, I've been eating because I'm ashamed of my eating. I am bigger than I've been in a few years, and I don't want to be big anymore.
I don't have any new tools. I don't have any answers. I'm not an inspiration to anyone. I'm just a fat guy who doesn't want to die in his 60s.
So where to begin? I'm going to start using the gym membership I've dutifully held but seldom used over the past six months. My goal this January is to do what I did three years ago: go to the gym every day for three weeks in a row. Tonight marks the first of those visits. I spent half an hour on the elliptical and three minutes on the stair climber (that thing isn't fun). About 250 calories all told. It's not spectacular, but it's a start.
Well, in the spirit of the new year, here's to new beginnings.