(unrelated photo)
I think that I've derived the source of my sudden weight gain. I've been using heavy whipping cream in my cereal. I had thought that the extra animal fats would help my training, but it turns out that all of those delicious animal fats must be balanced out with lots of breads and pastas. Ah well, I have at least determined the source of this mysterious weight gain. As soon as I've worked my way through my 50 gallon barrel of heavy cream then I'll adjust back to using half and half for my morning, midday, and evening bowl of cereal. I had believed that the extra fiber would push things through before any of those calories could take up residence on my belly.
Turns out that fiber does not contain the "negative calories" that I had ascribed to it. This was just dietary nonsense, which seems impossible, because my site advancing this method of weight loss has received millions of hits: tears-have-calories-too.gov
Ugh, I wandered off and came back and found this page still open. I had forgotten to keep writing.
Well, I'll curb my eating, I hope. I step on the scale at the gym as often as 3-5 times a week, so there is a visceral reaction to the gain that is exterior to how my jeans feel when I put them on. Hopefully, that will be enough, watching lead slide up the scale and away from the earth's center. It is odd, how my sense of self becomes tied to my weight. I know that it's not "right" but the sensation of it is very engaging. I tell myself different things when the mirror is pleasantly listening. Charm arrives with less struggle. I am easiest on myself when I've put in all the time at the gym practicing an active self-hatred of sorts.
Odd, that.
I kid, but only a little bit, no more than a thousand calories worth. If you fall out of practice having those stern conversations with your wardrobe then you have to offer a few ultimatums to arrive back at a place that feels healthy. It is awful, sometimes, what the mind does to the poor body... Even when I was meditating, I had to resist the temptation to perpetually repeat the phrase, Calm down you fat fuck, pay attention, stop masturbating all the time.
Every now and then I'll swap that out with: Your pretty face is going to hell.
It is my ad hoc bliss slogan, my maxim mantra.
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