Losing the Battle of My Bulge

by James Wallace Harris, Wednesday, August 22, 2018

I believe we all have multiple personalities. The person writing this is my thinking mind. There are two others beings sharing this body, maybe more. Neither of them speaks English, so I can only guess at their mindsets. The other two are my animal body and my unconscious mind.

Puzzled-Pug-Dog

People are deluded by assuming their thinking mind is the whole shebang. Their egos falsely assume they’re the master of their domain. Well, ask yourself, “Who ate that whole carton of Ben & Jerry’s?” when you trying to lose weight. Anyone who had struggled with hunger, lust, addiction, compulsion, fear, depression, anxiety knows their thinking mind isn’t the boss of me.

After I had a heart stent put in back in 2013, I took up a plant-based diet and lost weight. Dropping from 242 to 208. I believe even my body was afraid then. When I got to 208 I thought for sure I’d get below 200 soon. Something happened. My body rebelled, claiming it felt better, and I lost the battle of my bulge. I went up to 222. My doctor scolded me to lose 10 pounds. I got down to 211. Then she insisted I lose 10 more pounds. My body threw a tantrum and began binging on ice cream, peanut butter & jelly, chocolate and all its other favorite yummy foods, We’re back up to 231. My body is happy and doesn’t care. My unconscious mind isn’t sending any signals. And I’m in a panic.

Why do I let my body have its way when I know better? Why can’t my body understand the concepts of health? Sometimes I believe I can get my unconscious mind to help out. Of course, I might be nuttier than a Payday candy bar. Normally I can eat almost anything and my stomach is fine. Other times, my stomach suffers painfully from what I eat. My thinking mind has recently concluded that ice cream and chocolate hurt my stomach. Since I’ve stopped eating them my stomach has gotten better. My intellectual mind wonders if my unconscious mind has decided to trick my body. The unconscious mind is a wonder, but hard to understand.

By the way, my body might be an unthinking clod, but I have to admit my thinking body is easily deluded, confused and shanghaied. My body is very stupid. It will eat anything it wants. It’s only after it’s conditioned lots of pain will it stop eating a certain food.

I really need to lose weight. This extra weight is an obvious burden. Somehow I need to come up with a new battle plan that will conquer my body and make it surrender. There are zillions of articles on the internet about losing weight. Some people seem to win their battles, but I often wonder for how long. No matter how well I do or for how long, sooner or later my body grabs control again. How can I stop that?

It’s going to take a maximum effort to win this war. Somehow I’ve got to put everything I learned into my battle tactics. It would help if Purina made People Chow, and all I had to do was eat three bowls a day that left me feeling satisfied.

Here’s what I’ve learned and hope I can apply again:

  • Don’t keep tempting food in the house!
  • Plan all meals ahead of time!
  • Never eat out!
  • Don’t run out of healthy foods to eat because I’ll eat unhealthy foods to satisfy my hunger!!!
  • Go back to a plant-based diet.
  • Go back to intermediate fasting (eat between 10-6).
  • Solve the protein problem.
  • Make a list of acceptable foods and only eat from that list.
  • Remember, I can’t make exceptions!!
  • Eating holidays never work!!!!

JWH

The Tyranny of Hormones

Why are tits so much more dazzling than anything else in reality?  I mean women’s tits.  And how do molecules in our brain make us think human breasts are the epitome of beauty, while convincing us that all other mammalian glands are gross?  Why aren’t guys mesmerized by cow udders?  Those hormones are some pretty amazing chemicals.

Thursday, a young women leaned over right in front of me to get something out of her backpack and a large vista of hanging breasts bulged in front of my eyes.  Evidently my heart is strong, because I didn’t have a heart attack.  As an old man of sixty, I am quite grateful for such unexpected revelations of evenly tanned globes of fatty flesh, but I have to wonder why my hormones are still active.  What’s the point?

My age, physical appearance and lack of wealth preclude any success with young women, or even women of my own age, and even though my hormones are more than willing, my equipment is unreliable at best, and my little swimmers are old and tired and probably couldn’t make it all the way to the egg anyway.  I’m sure my DNA can’t replicate like it once did.

Why won’t my reproductive hormones leave me alone?  I’ve been looking down women’s dresses for 60 years, why hasn’t it gotten old?

If my appetite hormones didn’t insist that weighing 235 pounds was so wonderful, maybe the tools of my sexual hormones would work better and I could at least attract sixty-year-old women.  But what’s the point?  I have no need of children, so why do my hormones keep insisting I reproduce?

Why do our hormones torment us so?  They make us moody and angry, or depressed and lethargic, or jumpy and nervous.  I suppose there might have been a time in my life when all my hormones worked in harmony, but that was long ago.  It’s just so pathetic to be old, bald and fat and having my hormones constantly whispering to my mind that I should go make some babies.  Even my sperm are laughing at that.

Why can’t I have reasonable hormones.  Why can’t I have sensible old man hormones instead of dirty old man chemistry?

And if I’m not having sex fantasies, I’ll be fantasizing about chocolate chip cookies.  Isn’t that bizarre?   It’s like being possessed by  demons.

Think of all the hormones it would be wonderful to have?  I want to be horny to write great novels.  Now that would be a useful urge for an old man.  It doesn’t require a lot of energy or sarcastic rejecting females.

My body is breaking down and I seriously need to lose some weight.  Yet, my inner chemistry insists on staying fat.  Where’s the biological logic in that?

Wouldn’t it be great if we were born with little knobs that allowed us to adjust our hormone levels.  I got two useless nipples.  Imagine if they had been dials for sex and hunger hormone levels.  Our whole culture has indoctrinated us to think sex is the most wonderful experience in all of nature.  But if we could turn off that urge would we think it so wonderful?  If we could turn down the sex dial to zero would we be miserable, or would we think, “Wow, peace of mind is better than a piece of ass.”

And how anorexic would we all be if we could dial down our hunger hormones?

Or if we could dial down the sex, would we all settle for being happy and fat?

JWH – 9/8/12