Food and Me

I love food, unfortunately. I'll look at a restaurant menu days before I eat out, then spend those days fantasizing about how the food will taste. I like chocolate, I like cheese, I like sandwiches and chips and fries and burgers and pizza and all the stuff that's worst for my body. I don't much care for exercise, either.

I am getting better at portion control, though. I used to get an appetizer and dessert whenever I ate out. I almost never get an appetizer now, and I only sometimes get dessert. I haven't given up soda, but I almost exclusively drink diet. (I know this still isn't good for me, but at least it's bad in a less fattening way.) I haven't given up any of my favourite foods, but I am more restrained in terms of how much or how often I eat them.

And I'm getting better at physical activity. I walk all the time, and I have a miniature pedal bike under my desk so that I can pseudo-walk while I'm working. (I'm doing it right now, while editing this post!) I don't have a gym membership, but I have some weights and a newly-bought exercise bench, and I work out at home every day. Junior high gym class had imparted in me a years-long hatred of physical activity. However, I've learned that, with the help of a podcast or a TV show to keep myself entertained, and without the interference of a sadistic middle school gym teacher, I can stick to a healthier lifestyle.

Exercise isn't a problem, but I do still struggle with my diet. Still, I've lost about a third of my bodyweight since my mid-twenties. I'm not saying this to brag--I can honestly say that losing weight has had zero impact on my self-confidence because I've never tied my self-confidence to my appearance to begin with--but I feel safer. I've been afraid of illness and death for my entire life, and being an obese hypochondriac put a special strain on my mental health. Am I happier now that I was when I weighed more? I don't know, but I'll probably be around for longer.

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