Notice how periods of 'undocumented weight' in 2002 and 2005 correlates with a marked weight increase. This suggests, despite theories to the contrary, watching my weight with periodical weigh-ins helps moderate weight gain to some degree, helping me become more aware of my binge/addictive patterns.
Awareness doesn't actually prevent the ebb and flow, it just accents the pattern, registering the rules of dietary reality subliminally. My actual eating feels like an assertive reaction to some imaginary parental voice, a defiant assertion of my right to self-destructive behavior, an angry child, sitting in the darkened corner with his stolen dessert, grumpily gobbling down his booty.
There also appears to be a correlation with my work schedule as a university teacher in Japan, with body weight increasing consistent with the school semester. In my case, work means less physical exercise, increased stress, and more dependency on secondary food sources... along with a rationale to over use caffeine and sweetened carbohydrates.
Spring into summer does seem to offer a pattern of awareness followed by a careful, often dynamic, period of planned weight loss. Fighting back usually means extreme dieting strategies, like serious experimentation in an almost religious fervor, with fads likes raw foodism and the Atkins diet.
Curiously though, in terms of the success of these experimental diets, the actual weight loss may be due more to the accompanying exercise program and caloric moderation than the style of diet. My problem is, I have yet to fall in love with maintaining either exercise or food restrictions beyond the initial honeymoon period with each of these radical dietary styles.
My lustful delight in food, my predilection for sedimentary pleasures, and my inordinate preference to cerebral distractions leaves me looking like human fodder for the furnaces of hell. Building a life style of mindful eating, responsible movement, and conscientious consumption feels so much harder in the fall and winter of daily pragmatic living, than in the leisure of spring and summer spirited play.
Making life more fun, with a playful and consistent relationship to physical activity... while somehow finding the means of feeding my soul and not my surrogate stomach, would go a long way toward defeating seasonal depression and self-victimization.
On the dawn of 2007, I again must ask myself, will I allow myself the peace of moderate living, or once more drown in my passions? The hot and heavy manic patterns, that I have come to associate with both the greatest and meanest memories, need an unbias umpire, an internal mediator, to bring back a sense of fair play and simple sanity.
I'd like to feel trim for more than a few days in an Antarctic spring. I'd love to be gloriously balanced with my feet firmly yet lightly poised before pouncing. I want to remain a prime specimen of manliness to the very end.