Unstarched

After sticking diligently to the paleo diet for one day, I already feel better. I woke up not feeling quite so ‘poisoned’. I’d noticed a few days back, while still eating whatever I wanted, that I felt awful in the mornings, regardless of whether I’d had any alcohol the day before. I realized it was the starches that were making me feel bad. And again, after trying the paleo for just one day, I feel better. How did I ever let myself forget that?

Starches are like drugs: I feel better right after eating them, but I feel much worse in the long run. After I get back into the paleo groove for a while, of course I’ll allow myself an ‘off’ meal from time to time (otherwise, I’d have difficulty ever eating away from home); but I hope I never fall off the wagon so completely again.

As I mentioned yesterday, the issue really revolves around motivation. I want to feel better, and be able to be more active. But the ideas of ‘feeling better’ and ‘being more active’ lack the deep emotional resonance and power that will keep me on the paleo path. ‘Feeling good’ sounds great on paper, but the actual quality of feeling good is subtle, not some constant, overwhelming mood of ecstasy. Therefore while feeling good is definitely one of the best reasons for sticking to this diet, it lacks the emotional ‘oomph’ to keep me at it day in and day out.

What would provide that ‘oomph’? Feeling sexy would be great, if I could somehow manifest that feeling of sexiness without actually having to deal with sex itself.* If I could feel sexy within myself without having to pursue outward expressions to bolster that feeling, I’d be fine with that.

Another motivation, one that may sound a little heartless, is enjoying not being like the average US citizen. When Mr. and Mrs. Redstate Fatass go waddling through the tourist areas of DC, I tell myself I really, really do not want to be like them. I really, really want to stand out from them, and be physically and spiritually different from them. I know this carries the odor of superiority and elitism, but I find it also has a lot of emotional resonance with me. So long as I don’t follow those thoughts down the path to heartlessness, perhaps I will be okay.

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*This will require a long explanation, which I’ll postpone for later.

I Need Better Motivation

I opened a new calendar today. I used to get “August-to-August” calendars all the time, but stopped a few years back. Recently I decided to start using them again. They recall to me the school year, and its implied sense of a time period in which to get things done. I make plans for what to do during the colder months (although I don’t often follow through with them), and I try to end up better in the spring and summer.

Last fall I started losing weight, and I did very well for a while there. I lost a lot of weight. But the weight has been creeping back up, largely due to the fact I haven’t been sticking to the diet. There were several factors for this, but the main one simply is this: I lost my motivation. I had several motives for losing weight, but the strongest (albeit largely unacknowledged) motivation was that losing weight would help me look good so I could attract a mate.

When that didn’t pan out the way I had wanted, I lost the motivation to keep on track. I had not realized how much of my drive to lose weight had been motivated by the desire to find a partner. Not knowing my real motivation—and more importantly, not knowing the inherent insubstantiality of the real motivation—led me to go off track, and to start putting weight back on.

So I need to have real motivation to lose weight. Something that comes from within me, is not dependent on others for the expression of results, and carries an emotional component (in order to involve my whole self in it, and not just my intellect).

Fortunately, I’ve caught myself before I put all the weight back on, and I’m still significantly smaller than I was a year ago.

Five Years In

Next month will mark the fifth anniversary of my move to my current home. I cannot overstate the significance of this move for my life. I was finally escaping a bad homelife, and moving away from a place of degradation and impoverishment. I am extremely grateful, to this day, to the friends who helped me make the move, and helped me set up my new home.

I don't really recall what my plans were for myself once I moved in. I think I had planned to eventually get a cat (which I did), and to start dating again (which I've done, but in a limited fashion—more below). I'd planned to do more in-home entertaining, which I did for about a year-and-a-half, but that's gone by the wayside, and now my apartment is organized almost completely around the needs of myself and Manuel.

I've thoroughly settled in, and despite a massive clean-out last winter, I'm still overburdened with stuff that would be a challenge for me to move. In fact, it would take a miracle or a disaster to get me out of that place now. Even though my rent has increased a little each year, it's still much more reasonable than the alternatives.

As for going out on dates and such, I haven't done nearly as much in the last five years as I had thought I would do. Last year I did see one man very casually, and frankly I enjoy that friendship very much because it is so casual. With him, it seems, my affection for him is tempered by my love for him, in that the affection would have me cling tightly, whereas my love has me cheering, from the sidelines, for his freedom, development and independence. And that's all I'm going to say about this at this time. He's a sweetheart, and deserves everything he can grasp from the world, and then some.

As for the future, well, I'm not getting any younger. But I'm happy in my home with my cat. We'll have to see what miracles/disasters wait around the corner.