A New Direction

50 pounds.

It doesn't sound right, but it is. I've seen it.

Over the course of the last 9 months, I've lost a grand total of 50 pounds, down from my all-time high weight of 245.

One morning, I looked up in the mirror and didn't like what I saw, so I resolved to do something about it.

Here I am, 50 pounds lighter and better for it in so many ways. I've dropped a shirt size and a pant size. I can climb stairs without wheezing. I feel better. I look better.

I feel alive again.

I'm not finished with this project yet. There's still a ways to go on that route.

But 50 represents something greater.

50 makes me have to give up one of the most well-loved and used weapons in my arsenal: the Fat Shield. This will be difficult.

The Fat Shield is like family. It's been around since middle school, and it's been a constant companion.

The Fat Shield tells you to make self-deprecating jokes about your weight. They can't call you a fatty if you do it first; it takes the power away from them and establishes you as the de facto "funny guy." Ah, I know that role so well.

The Fat Shield also destroys self-confidence, giving you a self-worth that could fit comfortably in a walnut shell. The Fat Shield is a vampire, feeding off of your pride and leaving you with hopelessness and self-doubt.

Die, vampire, die.

I'm getting back to my fighting weight. I feel like I need some sort of '80s montage music playing while I do it or maybe get Burgess Meredith to yell at me.

With 50 will come more changes, non-weight changes.

Part of losing the Fat Shield means leaving the comfort zone, ridding myself of the old and familiar roles for the promise of a better, more fulfilling life.

It's time for me to live.

It's time for me to do.

"You must be the change you wish to see." - Gandhi

I know what I have to do.

How's about you?