Addict

I'm trying to be healthy. We go to the gym for 30-60+ minutes per day, every day. At the very least, we do 30 minutes on the treadmill or stationary bike. As opposed to the stationery bike, because it's hard to work up a sweat writing notes. I've also started counting calories. That's quite possibly the single most depressing activity ever devised by man. We don't eat three meals a day. We just don't. Even with that, it's remarkable how quickly one reaches that magically recommended 2,000 calorie mark. People who eat three meals a day must double or even triple that figure.

My rambling point is about how moderation is a lie. Sure, people tell you that you can eat things in moderation, and you'll be fine. Bull. One glass of 2% milk is in the 120 calorie neighborhood. Excuse me... one 8 ounce glass. That's the wee bitty juice glass, a.k.a. the thimble. I could drink about 6 of those and still feel thirsty. If I were moderating, I'd drop it down to 4. Words cannot describe to you how much I miss whole milk. I've settled for 2% in the quest to lose weight. I'm not going lower, as we've already got water in the fridge, thanks.

That's probably one of the harder things about this quest to no longer be fat. Drinks. I can't drink regular diet drinks because nutrasweet makes my head split open. Until recently, I thought I was having adverse reactions to splenda, but I think I've ruled them out. That may be something. Iced tea tastes like iced ass, so that's out. Water is... icky. I drink it, but there's no way I'm drinking it with food. I want flavor, dammit. I go to sleep thinking about what I'm going to have for lunch the next day. (Hence the title of the post.) I want to enjoy it.

I weigh about 170 right now. (I say "about" because it keeps fluctuating.) At my towering height, if I lose 20 more pounds I'll be in the high end of "normal". According to BMI charts, at any rate. It's going to be a hell of an uphill climb to get down that far, and not only because I have a lousy sense of direction. I miss eating. I'm lighter than I've been in a long time, I'm in better shape than I've been in a couple decades, and that's all lovely and heart-healthy and good for me with unicorn glitter and rainbows and whatnot. Still, I'd be a very happy man if I could sit down with a jar of peanut butter, a few bags of funyuns, and a gallon or two of whole milk and while away the time with my old friends.

After all, what the hell is the point of living longer if you don't get to enjoy it?