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'Outside the Loop'
A 40 Day Dietary Record
June 1 through July 10 2005

Day 1 June 1
First two weeks

The inspiration for this experiment comes from an 'out of the box' source for me, a dietary book from the Christian-Jewish fundamentalist author Jordan S. Rubin's "The Maker's Diet". Though genealogically and sociologically I may be both Jewish and Christian, a fundamentalist I am not. But the structure, based on the common biblical fasting days of Forty Days, divided into blocks of two weeks, sounds practical and reasonable.

This book is just far enough out of the main stream to be fun and poke my curiosity, two elements essential in the humdrum world of disciplining the furiously obstinate. As of my fifty-fourth birthday on May 28th 2005, according to the doctors scale (fully dressed), I weigh over 130 kg. A good a time as any, to start reevaluating my caloric intake and general daily conditioning.

I began today in my usual manic state at about 6 am, eating a piece of cake left over from my birthday and a cup of coffee. Lunch will be from the food made available at convenient stores in the university. Dinner will be something patched together before my son comes home from school. Exercise will be moving from car to school to car to home, that is to say, unless I take a walk, non-existent.

Is it any wonder I am over wieight?

I so dearly need both a measuring stick and a stick for self-flagellation. My consuming carnage disturbs even me.

What exactly drives me, I can't identify.

It would seem so rudimentary just to declare that I am dangerously fat and need to drastically cut down on my caloric intake... Eating in moderation is logical yet feels so impossible. I had to eat absolutely everything that I made. One voice said, "But why?" while the more dominant declared, "Because I can... I need to... I want to..." All the while stuffing myself.

One mind, two voices, who exactly is at war with who inside the obese person's head?

At 130 kilograms
Day 2 June 2
The desire to eat is
clearly mental, not physical.

The day was made easier with the cancelation of two classes, enabling me to do errands and take a long luxurious stroll for hours, amongst the back streets of Kyoto.

I noticed, when I refreshed my thirst with a sugarless tea drink (common in Japan's drink machines), later, when I took a Diet Cola, the sweetness was unpleasant. I also noticed though, once I began to drink my customary Diet Coke the desire for it returned.

The desire to eat is clearly mental, not physical. Though both mind and body bounce off of each other. I have a feeling of being deprived, a haunting urge to continue until I have exhausted every inch of my interior, until I am stuffed into a stupor.

Day 3 June 3
This cacophony of guilt

The problem with not hiding behind a specific dietary regime is, I am reminded daily, how chaotic and undeliberate the modern diet is. What can be said positive about the food we grab as we run through our busy lives?

Closer scrutiny only seems to suggest futility. How many families have the time to both counter-attack the temptations of modern convenience foods and also map-out a conscientious dietary regime for the whole family? The family nucleus, with a wife at home dedicated to wholesome family maintenance, seems now only a historical cliche, lost somewhere between the microwave miracle of the 50's and new economic realities of today.

This cacophony of guilt... As a single father I am responsible for the healthy feeding of myself and my children. As an adult with parental responsibility, preservation of family health should be of primary concern. Yet within the turmoil of providing a living and maintaining a life-style, what is the joy in carrot sticks and stoic critique of just about everything I do?

Surely I can stop the more devastating derelictions of duty. But after one has given up drink, and other social forms of self-medication, one runs the risk of slipping into despair.

A world without fast food or fancy stop-over spots for social eating, can leave a single parent alone too often in the kitchen, planning meals the kids end-up not really wanting to eat anyway.

A conscientious mom-dad home alone, mapping a nutritional pathway to an unsympathetic clan, seems a plan for emotional calamity. Which in turns ignites binge self-betrayal, i.e. over eating. Ask me how I know this and I will begin to recollect the last year and a half of waist line growth.

Day 4 June 4
Ram Dass in Fierce Grace.

Shortly I will leave for results of a medical test, trying to decipher why my energy drops so radically after each meal. The doctor is investigating my hormonal balance and my thyroids.

I have begun to research retirement living, though I am only 54. I am looking in the city of Kyoto for housing for an old man who may need wheel chair access, access to mass transit, and hopefully to the many beautiful places in northern Kyoto.

As a main who insists on being obese, I must face the hard fact of years lost in the future to debilitating disease. I was inspired to these considerations by Ram Dass in Fierce Grace. This may all be frivolous, but I enjoy testing the possibilities.

The results from my check-up revealed no problems except a fatty liver and the beginning signs of diabetes. Apparently I am consuming too many calories. Firstly, I need to drop all sweetened liquid refreshment and replace these with water. If I have coffee or tea best to avoid all sweeteners and creamers. I will use this as my first step to dietary moderation.

I am free to cut down, but the only regiment, I care to begin with, is a switch to water. I am certain this alone will test my addictions. Besides taste, drinks are used as an energy stimulant with caffeine and sugars. There is a high probability I will suffer fluctuations in energy, or even headaches, from this simple new regime.

I will be seeing the doctor in early fall. By September I have to have modified my addictive eating patterns, brought down my caloric intake, sharply decreased my intake of caffeine and sugars, and hopefully found time to exercise. I am hoping with less calories, and thus less body bulk, the balance between my muscles and body size will allow me to do even more activities without physical discomfort.

Now, even a walk can be painful, as my stomach pulls my mid-back forward. I look forward to a simple summer of activity and moderation, softened with spiritual reflection.

Day 5 June 5
Dieting creates discomfort.

Dieting creates discomfort, there is no expedient way around this. One way around might be to create a completely new lifestyle, filled with activities which did not reinforce old patterns, was specifically healthy, and completely engaging. I imagine there are people capable of such transformation, perhaps with extraordinary will or endless financial resources.

I was once such a person, or at least I seem to believe I was. I was once capable of dropping my job and completely changing every aspect of my life. Of course this was a dip into poverty, though I experienced it more as an adventure, requiring me to become proactive and taking away the cash needed for luxury eating. Often I exchanged steady income for the luxury of time.

These lifestyle revolutions were not designed specifically as diets but had the same effect. Often these changes permitted experiments in fasting, extreme physical activity, or involvement in an all engrossing art project. Often relationships changed too, accelerating my social life while taking away my appetite.

Of course, I may be romanticizing these past transitions and their dietary advantage, or subtly bitching about the limitations of my present situation. When one travels a path with kids, a house, and career, there is less room for radical spontaneous upheaval. Change for the sake of change is not so simple for family bread winners and their children.

But, even for the most fixed lifestyles, making improvements is not impossible, fo the persistently brave of heart. Finesse and raw courage is necessary to transform a complex lifestyle interwoven with family members and diverse responsibility. I just wonder if I am capable of such lifestyle surgery.

Day 6 June 6
Exercise, eat less, and relieve stress.

My recent blood test suggests my thyroids and hormonal balance is fine, but a fatty liver and the early signs of diabetes repeat the same tired message... Exercise, eat less, and relieve stress.

Yesterday carried my reactive symptoms to an extreme. All I did was stop caffeine and sugared drinks in exchange for water and I immediately became achy all over and had terrible headaches. I do not recall the last time I felt so bad. Fortunately, today I feel much better. Was it a toxic flush, a flu which coincidentally hit me on the day I started to diet, or a harbinger of things to come?

I will bring lots of water with me to work, and try and make better choices in the food I eat. My imagination seems tested. Trying to feed a wild and compulsive child that is always hungry with selections of food that are not readily available or require much foresight in preparation is such an energy drain.

I am that wild child and I can see how resistent I am to discipline, no matter how sympathetic the caretaker. If it is hard for me to listen to the good counsel of conscientious friends and experts, how do I plan to do this on my own?

Exactly who or what am I rebelling against?

Oh, how I hate the empty feeling I experienced yesterday after each meal, though calorically all my meals were more than enough. It was as if my inner bad boy was saying "Don't even think about dieting!" and when I refused to listen he pulled out all the stops, drained away my energy, threw pain throughout my body, and layered over a ferocious headache (and the 'feeling blue' outlook that comes with it all).

And it hasn't even been a week yet.

Day 7 June 7
Amongst the nonsense, there is sense in nothingness

Most of the inspiration I receive each day comes while driving. I listen via my car stereo on my iPod to digital recordings downloaded via LimeWire peer to peer software. The selections are random yet I have so much Wayne Dyer, Deepak Chopra, Alan Watts, Eckhart Tolle, Joseph Campbell, Dale Carnegie, and other inspirational speakers that someone will come up amongst the music and send me an encouraging message.

While Dr. Wayne W. Dyer remains the 'eveyman's speaker of speakers' it is Eckhart Tolle who best assimilates the historical works of Campbell and Watts, and the classical Buddhistic insights of Thich Nhat Hanh and the Dalai Lama with a New Age clarity. Tolle is classical Buddhistic logic without much of the cultural baggage associated with religious teachings. He is also too much the German intellectual to be lost in the foggy mystique of many New Age guru. Despite his youth, or perhaps because of it, he remains distinctly on message... 'Be here now' because it is, after all, the only place you can be.

Perhaps you are wondering what this has to do with dieting...

In my case, it may be the insights of a Eckhart Tolle which may finally pull together a life perspective, which will enable me to calm the forces within me. This mental mania that drives me past the mark of the moment and into the madness, of planning towards the future or dwelling too much on past patterns.

Yesterday, when I was made exhausted from carrying in the groceries in stages, I would stop, heart pounding, and be in the moment, allowing the glorious day fill my senses.

As Baba Ram Dass needed his stroke to teach him to stop and smell the silences, perhaps now, after a life of running in mind-filled circles, I am finally ready to be the nothingness of mindfulness. To live the Zen that called me like a Siren, so many years ago... Called me to this side of the earth and abandoned me inside my normalcy of who I really am.

Perhaps, amongst the nonsense, there is sense in nothingness, after all.

Day 8 June 8
All day I ride the waves of desire.

All day I ride the waves of desire. I really have no handle on this. I watch it, and, according to my plan, this is good. I wanted to become the watcher.

But each meal is a panorama of desires. What exactly am I so hungry for? My daily diet includes a multivitamin and a well balanced assortment of foods. Is it all just conditioning?

Considering the actual amount of physical labor I do in each and every day, there really is no need for calories. Despite my abundant intake, each day I have bouts of exhaustion, reflecting a completely out-of-condition body. There is no real need for more calories considering how little I do, yet my hunger is that of a man who performs intensive labor.

I am becoming convinced that the success of my Atkins diet had as much to do with the swimming I was doing at the time as with my careful restriction of sugar, carbohydrates, and caffeine. Yet now I feel exhausted just doing my job. My work is decidedly un-physical, though certainly emotionally demanding. My profession does not need the food I crave and simultaneously my lack of energy after working does not encourage exercise.

In other words, I have created a retractable loop, the more I eat, the more hungry I get... the more I do not move, the harder moving gets. I keep thinking of Wayne Dyer's solution, when he became heavy he started to jog, and has maintained his jogging, of eight miles a day, ever since.

I just do not have that kind of faith in my persistance. I feel so tired after each day, I can not imagine a vigorous exercise plan. In fact even walking feels too much. This sounds suspicious, doesn't it! Am I hopelessly lazy, or just being factual to an actual life condition?

This morning I was inspired to clean the house before work. Perhaps this spirt of energy, missing these last few weeks, may be a sign of energy to come. This summer is where I now place my hope for an energetic return back into shape... but perhaps, with steady trimming of calories, I will find it sooner.

Day 9 June 9
The bloated high after a big meal

I imagine the bloated high after a big meal must be similar to the satiated exuberance of a heroin high, when nothing matters except nodding off. The anxious distracted edginess of a junky is a bit like the obese obsessive as he waits out the time between meals. Fasting is our equivalent to cold turkey.

Perhaps it is disrespectful to hardcore addicts to compare us over-eaters to their life style, yet I bet we have the numbers. Most likely more die from fat-related diseases than over-dose on heroin.

Forgive me for this silly comparison, yet I must confess, it is hard for me to change old patterns. Hard for me to map out a nutritional plan for my family each week. Harder still for me to understand why I must waste so much time on this tedious theme, year after year.

I feel bullied by my body, by my desire, by my habitual reactions that all spell disaster. Disaster if I ignore the warning signs and disaster when, like now, I attempt to be a conscientious eater. This world of healthful eating and exercise is as alien to me, and as unnatural, as can be. I so much want to find some great life style quantum leap that will skip over this discomfort and place me on track, a healthy path to happy days...

Instead I contemplate the house they are building next door, as it blocks out my view of the mountains, as a metaphore for my outlook toward diets. All my constructs end up simply confirming futility and pending doom, none hold more than continual self flagellation or grumpy discomfort.

If I were more saintly I would consider the view the neighbor will have now. As a saint I would diet so others do not have to see me fat, to offer them the beauty of my invisibility. To be old is enough of an affront to today's sensibilities, to be old and fat is an abomination.

I see people quietly and peacefully engaged in their labors, bending and squatting in earnest comfort, as they pursue their task, and I know they have the secret to dietary stability. Hard work, engaged in something you embrace as right for you, will give a person a way to keep in shape.

My nature seems contrary to this. I am here typing into a computer. My expression of love today was making my children a beautiful and delicious meal, and now for myself all I really want to do is nap. I find no personal glory in physical exertion.

Just to nap, so perhaps I may dream, free from self-recognition.

Day 10 June 10
A wonderful joy under a humdrum life

There is a wonderful joy under a humdrum life, in the watchful state, if one can take the edge off. What exactly is this edge? There is a kind of anxiety that creeps into our lives as we get older. An edge that takes the fun and adventure from our daily activities.

It originates early as we try and fulfill the expectations of family, friends, and then society. We want to please, to be pleased in response, but this quickly turns into a pathology. We seldom have the facility to analyze these habitual patterns and we end up weaving a weird tapestry of responses by the time we are in our fifties.

Some of us manage a positive outlook or at least a facial expression that wards off conflict, but most of us are not gifted with a perpetually winning smile or a devotedly Pollyanna perspective.

I have never taken a survey, but I suspect cynics and the cantankerous dominate most of our work places. Even in the professional spheres of psychological and spiritual guidance, there seems either a 'holier than thou' frustration with the un-enlightened or a general dismay with the 'state of affairs' in which the clients must survive.

I, for one, can not explain away the fears and anxieties as easily as Wayne Dyer, or target a counter-balance solution like Eckhart Tolle. Mostly because, decidedly, I am more dark than light in my outlook. I do not know when, or why, I made this decision to be grayish blue in color... The shade of threatening clouds on hazy humid days. But apparently the die has stuck well over the years. I remain always a cloud about to pour.

I am pedantic though, a professional fault for many of us college instructors and parental-types. So I often want to be, or at least to appear to be, confident and rosy for my young wards. In my heart of hearts, I would really love to be a model of optimism and personal power for my students and my own children.

Even more so, I would love to bring hope into the hearts of my peers, those in their later years, who show the tell-tale scars of experience, and who deserve a graceful transition, to greater planes and loftier perspectives.

This wish smacks of delusions of grandeur or the pattering of an old know-it-all, yet truly, it would be sweet to have the gift of insight and share it where it may be needed.

Day 11 June 11
Woke within a blanket of love

I woke within a blanket of love, that is to say, I sensed this phenomena often referred to in theological and inspirational circles as universal love. It did not come as an ecstatic bliss but more gently as a didactic and logical explanation.

I have often wrestled over the suicidal death of my wife. I recalled, when suicide was mentioned by her, how adamantly my mind could not get around to accepting the possibility. But since my wife and I were our closest confidants, I forced the subject back into the inner deliberations of a woman who could fathom the possibility, for a number of cultural and personal reasons, while I remained too stubbornly naive to fathom the possiblity.

The monologue continued within her, while I foolishly remained outside the loop. If I had allowed the subject of suicide into dialogue, then there would have been an opportunity for both her perspective and mine to be aired. I do not know if the results would have been different, if I could have prevented her suicide as I had wanted, but at least we both would have understood each other's position better. Maybe together we could have found an alternative.

It has always been clear, or at least it came to be clear after I overcame my initial trauma, how much Reiko loved and cared for us even in such a harsh expression as self-murder.

Yet, because I felt so abandoned, and betrayed, by this behavior, a possibility so out of my own small world of expectations and assumptions, only now can I begin to appreciate her generous love. A love that lives below her violent action. I say lives, because her presence, and this love, still permeates our daily lives despite her five year absense.

I had received from a concerned friend the book "The Male Herbal; Health Care for Men & Boys" by Herbalist James Green and this may have been the seed of my acceptance. How the human body heals, stepping away from the Testosternone soaked world of Allopathic medicine, and moving under the wing of a prevailing healer, a force that is both natural and all pervasive.

Knowing this helps me to appreciate why Reiko, in her suicide, could function outside my box of assumptions and still be right. Where she could be wrong, in all that I believe, and be right within the parameters of love... A theoretical perspective inwhich love has no parameters... Where a healing love may, in fact, be a hidden truth, just below the surface of my cynic-laden assumptions.

Day 12 June 12
Testosternone-laden male ego

Witnessing man's lower nature, as manifested in your own actions, can be intimidating. I awake aware of how in each and every conversation, each and every daily chore, I am driven by a Testosternone-laden male ego.

I watch the way in which women squirm, worm, and then win over this Yang momentum. I watch how man ducks, and shucks, and demands his deliriously delusionary assumptions, in our futile attempt to one-up the universe around us. I feel embarrassed by the things I say and do.

I carry this self-destructive obsessiveness, as if possessed by an insatiable and perpetual ego, into the way I eat. One can imagine how, if one practiced the humbling path of a Bodhisattva, a way preempted by compassion and not self worth, one might also lose weight. Yet we are not talking about the religiously devote, when we are talking about this obese beast of an ego.

We are talking about a man rolling within the world of pleasures, while wallowing in his own caldron of insatiable desires, someone more dedicated to maintaining some matrix of decadence than saving the poor of Calcutta.

When I woke this mornig I could see how my pride leads me to dominate in conversation, and my greed encourages me to eat more than I need. I see that I am driven by desire to make conquest of others, tied in some magical 'energy-level' thread to a root chakra of sexual desire.

Wounded by its inevitable indecisive application in the 'real world' of human relationships, I come off looking merely as an aggressive jackass, succeeding neither sexually nor in expressing some primal vigor. An ego left to its own devices is truly an ineffective pathfinder.

Only when the energy is flushed through the humbling marathon of physical challenges, righteous activities in the service of someone besides that hungry ghost ego, only then can these lower sources of stamina be converted into resources for healthy living.

As long as concepts, like compassionate action, remain cerebral and not an ethic for daily practice, I will remain fat. Is my fat the self flagellation of a Catholic boy grown into his mother's 'bad boy' son? To witness one's character as less than what one can be, and to do nothing about it, is a sure fire way to self destruct. Yet blaming past programing is in itself a wily subterfuge for inaction.

Man exploits the energy from any source and converts the roaring torrents into useful power with water wheels of practicality. Either I learn to use what ever power I have to get trim, or I will continue to beat myself up with self inflicted punches.

Day 13 June 13

The Glycemic Index Food Chart
from BecomeHealthyNow.com

Desirable Foods
Moderately Desirable
Less Desirable Foods
Coarse European -Style, Whole Grain wheat or Rye Pita Bread, Cracked or Sprouted Whole wheat
100% Stone Ground whole Wheat, Pumpernickel, 100% whole grain Rye Crisp Cracker
White bread, most commercial whole wheat breads, English muffins, bagel, French bread, most commercial matzoh
Compact noodle-like high bran cereals (All-Bran, Fiber One) Coarse Oatmeal, Porridge, Coarse Whole Grain (Kashi) Cereal mixed with Psyllium (Fiberwise)
Grape-nut cereal, medium-fine grain oatmeal, (5-minute variety)
Corn flakes, puffed rice, puffed wheat, flaked cereals, instant "Quick" or pre-cooked cereals. Oatbran, rolled oats. Shredded wheat, Muesli.'
Pasta, Grains and Starchy Vegetables:
Pasta (all types) Barley, Bulgur, Buckwheat (kasha) Couscous, Kidney Beans dry, (Lentils, Black-eyed peas, Chick-peas Kidney beans, Lima beans, Peas, Sweet Potato, Yam (soybeans lowest) Most Vegetables.
Pasta, Grains and Starchy Vegetables:
Rice, Boiled Potato, Corn Navy beans, Kidney beans (canned), Baked beans. Beets.
Pasta, Grains and Starchy Vegetables:
Instant rice, Brown rice, instant precooked grains, Baked potato, micro-waved potato, instant potato, Winter squash (acorn, butternut), carrots, parsnips.
Milk Products:
Skim, 1%, cottage cheese, (lowfat or regular), Buttermilk, Low-fat plain yogurt, Low-fat fruited yogurt, Low-fat frozen yogurt ( artificial sweetener)
Milk Products:
2% milk, cheese, Regular plain yogurt
Milk Products:
Whole milk, ice milk, ice cream, Yogurt sweetened with sugar, Low-fat frozen desserts with sugar added, Low-fat and regular frozen yogurt with sugar added. Tofu ice cream.
Most fruit and natural fruit juices, including apple, berries, cantaloupe, grapefruit, honeydew, oranges, pears, grapes, peaches, applesauce, (Cherries, plums and grapefruit lowest).
Banana, Kiwi, Mango, papaya, orange juice.
Pineapple, raisins, watermelon, fruit juices sweetened with sugar.
Shellfish, "white" fish (cod, flounder, trout, tuna in water), Chicken, turkey, cornish hen, venison (white meat no skin), Egg substitutes (cholesterol free) cottage cheese
Higher fat fish, (salmon, herring, lean cuts of Beef, Pork, Veal. Low-fat imitation luncheon meat, low-fat. cheese, Eggs.
Most cuts of beef, pork, lamb, hot dogs (including "low-fat' versions) cheese, luncheon meats, peanut butter.

The glycemic index of food is a ranking of foods based on their immediate effect on blood glucose (blood sugar) levels.
Day 14 June 14
'Life is tough, so get over it.'

The process of self-analysis utilized here, is as tedious as it is cumbersome. There is always a new layer of self discovery that can be dissected, and while this may be of interest to specialists, for the majority it is just too much information.

Unfortunately, this touchy-feely stuff is an integral part of understanding the whole picture of the dieter. To actually analyze why we choose to do something, which is fundamentally self-destructive, is a necessary evil. 0ver-eating, like over-drinking and over-most anything, is brutally anti-health, and the motivation for this needs analysis, or at least acknowledgment.

So let us recognize that my mother had bouts of depression. Though I do not recognize signs of bipolarity, I do know she suffered from her obesity both physically and psychologically. I mention bipolarity only because this form of depression is genetic. My kid's will need to face this haunting fact on bipolarity, because their mother most likely illustrated, in her suicidal end, such symptoms.

There is alcoholism in both my mother's and father's family, I assume then depression, and self-medication via alcohol, is a factor historically in our family. I also wish to acknowledge that both my parents chose not to drink excessively, and avoided many of the pitfalls of this particular addiction. Apparently the bad examples of living with drink-loving dads was enough to keep them off the bottle.

Since alcoholism, and other compulsive behavior, is generally universal in most of our families... I can only conclude...'Life is tough, so get over it.' My only rationale for my present reflections is that this is how I 'get over it'. Hopefully, by acknowledging the common struggle and avoiding negative habitual behavior, I will succeed against my own particular nemesis.

At this point I should clarify what my nemesis is. I have been implying that my issue is over-eating, but this, in itself, is misleading. It was only when my family entered the world of 'convenience' and labor saving devices, did we become obese.

Historically my ansestors ate well, when they had it, but they always worked their asses off each day. As my grandfather often said "No work, no eat." My mother was the first generation to abandon the garden for television, and replaced hand-crafted sausages and homegrown vegetables, with frozen 'nukeables' for the microwave. It wasn't so much a laziness as a cultural prerequisite for our times.

There was plenty of love in her misguided quest for modernism, and I for one welcomed the frozen pie crusts filled with instant pudding and Freon driven whipcream... but there was a key ingredient missing in this recipe for pleasure.

In this post-war boom that mothered the Mother-of-all consumer revolutions, something for us was missing. We lost the 'physical' in our life formula. We all willingly, enthusiastically, tumbled into a life time of leisure and guilt. We never learned to love our bodies, neither in its use, nor in its looks.

The whole family replaced exertion with passive pleasures, with media consumption, and mindless munching. We loved the soft slope down and lost the courage, and will, to live any other way than our version of the American dream.

There was a prevasive propaganda war that seemed to want to hold my heart in its hand and milk-out my self-determination, with promises of sweeter sweets and whiter whites. Three times in my life I restricted my world to a Zen monk's simplicity, and each time the cell-originating pattern for 'lard-assism' crept in, and coated my bones, filled my world with appliances, and sugared my days with an endless bounty of time-consuming distractions.

In this comedy of predictable miscalculations, this diabolical decline into creature comforts, I sold my soul to the sofa, and expanded into the image of my maker, America. White and pasty, flabby and frustrated, I fell by the wayside of common sense and started to avoid all things carnal except the occasional sin.

Remembering my public disgrace in gym room failures, I have come to think of exercise as outside this life experience... as if I had sacrificed my corporal form, for a bionic interface with the Larry King Show.

And now, that I have unsuccessfully blamed everyone and everything for my own irresponsible behavior, the words have come full circle. My nemesis is my inactivity, my persistent refusal to move outside my own slave mentality.

As always there is a plan for more exercise come summer vacation. It doesn't take an Addis-clad trainer to see that exercise needs to permeate my day, intrinsically and completely. But I have made this observation before and not taken it to heart. I am no longer convincing nor crediable.

I need to build this construct from the ground up. I need to break up this deep diversion, to disciplined self-development, into manageable pieces. This human needs a war not more words. In the next segment of this experiment, I need more proof with my pablum and pudding, an action plan that actually actualizes. I envision my body happily in motion, coated in an energy field of vitality and fun. I want that vision to be me.

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