Much Rather Be a Teddy Than a Polar Bear This Season

You know what? I'm getting tired of talking about how much I walked or worked out in this blog, and I'm pretty sure you are, too (all five of you intermittent Big Bear Blog readers). So we'll get that out of the way first and move on to other things. Went to the gym Saturday (December 5) because that's when I felt like going this week, worked out my chest, back, shoulders and arms in that order, stepped on the scale and was not surprised to see I'd gained four pounds (now weigh 337). After Thanksgiving and the days that followed, I earned every pound I gained. I took a hiatus from night walks, going to the gym and better food choices and enjoyed myself some fried chicken, chocolate chip muffin tops, honey BBQ Fritos, BBQ potato chips, etc, etc. I thoroughly enjoyed them, too.

But the other day as I sat here writing this blog during lunch, my belt was on its last notch, my pants felt a bit tight in the thighs and I starting to consider that it's time again to start having wheat bagels for breakfast instead of muffins and plain sliced chicken instead of fried. And although I would rather go home, climb into bed and under the covers with my familiars and watch TV until I fall asleep, that would setting a poor precedent. Besides, I've done plenty of that over the past week and a half already and if I let myself, I can very easily slip right back up to 378 (or more) by Spring and I don't want to do that.

It's easier to get out of bed in the morning and go for a walk because all of my defenses and excuses aren't awake yet, but in the evening, there's plenty of "reasons" for me not to set foot back out the door once I've gotten home. It's much easier to lie in bed like a Teddy Bear and be all warm and cuddly, but since I'd prefer to do that with my Bear partner who lives several states away and we won't be vacationing together for awhile, instead I'll brave the cold for a walk and drive to a much warmer gym and be a good Polar bear. Not to be confused with Bi-Polar Bear, by the way (which, depending on who you talk to in the Community, could either be a Bear who's manic-depressive or an older bisexual Bear with graying to white hair! You know, like Santa! (The latter, not the former; remember, he's a jolly ol' elf, and a big ol' Bear to boot.)

Meanwhile, I have managed to steer clear of Christmas cheer for the most part this Yuletide season. Yes, my mother did drag me to see Disney's A Christmas Carol and despite my aversion to most things Jim Carrey (I prefer his serious films like The Majestic and The Truman Show to his slapstick schmuckery), his voice was tolerable, I enjoyed the new 3-D effects and the Ghost of Christmas Present, although clearly in a manic phase, was a Bear showing an abundance of thick and curly chest hair through the front of his festive frockery, assuring me there were some Bears on the animation team much as they were on The Lion King (according to the "making-of" documentary I saw on HBO once).

However, the movie lost me when the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come (for which Carrey was credited although the Ghost only pointed and never spoke a word!) pointlessly chased Scrooge through the streets of London in a carriage, shrunk him with a magical whip crack so he went gliding down a pipe and then got stuck in the ring of a bed curtain his maid stole from him after his death (even though he had been incorporeal throughout his other visitations). It was all downhill from there; too much disbelief to suspend, and the ending echoed my father's annual sentiment that Christmas is all about commercialism, which is just fine with Pagans like me who don't want to keep Christmas in our hearts all year long. Besides, as I annually tell my sister who believes I became a Witch just to get Yule and Christmas presents (sure, I get Yule presents...on Christmas morning!), all the secular holiday traditions from trimming the Christmas tree to hiding Easter eggs are Pagan in origin.

Speaking of carols that have little to do with Christmas, I did try an alternative to traditional carols I learned of from one of my favorite authors, Laurell K. Hamilton, called "A Very Scary Solstice" from the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, and although I did enjoy The Carol of the Olde Ones, it was still a carol, however feral.

The closest I felt for any song this season was Josh Groban's version of "O Holy Night." Mr. Groban's exceptionally beautiful voice had me tearing up in my car one morning and with a little reworking of the lyrics ("in sin and error pining", for example), the song could very well be about the birth of the Sun God (when you're in the minority, sometimes you have to rework things in your own image or you feel left out in the cold.)

I do have some things to be grateful for this Yule besides spending the holiday with my family and welcoming the lengthening days in the New Year (and decade) to come. Although my present temporary position is coming to an end this coming Friday since the University I work for has hired one of their employees to replace me per their policy, the woman who moved forward from this position has another temporary position available while one of her workers will be on maternity leave, and after two weeks of vacation (collecting unemployement), I will begin another six-month position with the Office of Education in the New Year! YAY!

So I will continue to try and balance my eating with exercise (by the weigh, still on a plateau of 337 as of 12/10), enjoy my unemployment and employment and surf the Yuletide through a sea of Christmas. And if it all gets to be too much, screw it; I'll just take a long winter's nap! Happy holidays to all, and to all a good night, woof, and blessed be.

Thanksgiving Thursday Weigh-In (11/26): The Bear Blog is Sharper Than the Bear Brain/A Tale of Two Turkeys

As mentioned in my last blog entry, I was a good Bear Thanksgiving morning. Threw on my T-shirt and shorts (it was unseasonably warm that day), did a full walk on the track with a book (tried out my new booklight Tuesday night and discovered that although I was able to read, I couldn't see the side of the track and was veering all over causing a potential hazard to other nightwalkers), went to the gym for a full upper body circuit, and stepped on the scale. Still on the plateau: 333 pounds. I was happy not to have gained any weight and went home to feed my familiars some turkey-flavored treats and tuna (it's Thanksgiving for the little ones too, and Gods know I'm thankful for all the warmth and unconditional love they give me every day) before getting ready and picking up my uncle to go to my parents' house for our feast.

While helping my mom in the kitchen, she asked if I exercised that day; I told her I had and there was no change on the scale. But then my mind turned into an abacus for a moment. I thought back to the most I'd lost this time around (324) and that I'd gained 11 pounds since then. But 333 -324 was only 9 pounds, and since I weighed 335 the week before, I realized (as you may have after reading the first paragraph here, O faithful but few blog followers) that I'd actually lost two pounds. Cool!

Then, keeping in mind that Thanksgiving was sacrosanct in celebrating the holidays, I proceeded to thoroughly enjoy two heaping platefuls of turkey, stuffing, sweet and mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits and a delicacy in our house, cauliflower and cheese casserole. I even had a few string beans as garnish (my family accuses me of despising vegetables, but the truth is I enjoy all the iron-rich vegetables kids hate, such as broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cabbage and cauliflower). Since my mother is an excellent cook and my skills in the kitchen aren't too shabby either,dinner was delicious.

It was the company that left something to be desired. My mother invited two of her brothers to join us, and just as I'd developed a begrudging respect for one uncle who has taken more than he's given over the years but recently found himself a job, she reached out her helping hands to another brother who perhaps should have remained persona non grata. He showed up with nothing but a six pack of beer to support his alcoholism, provided the perfect foil for my father as they tag teamed my mother making misogynistic remarks toward her about how inept women are (and when she tried to defend herself, I made it clear to both of them that was in fact what she was doing), and although my mother wants the TV off during family meals, he declared he would sit in a certain chair to watch the game while we ate because he had money riding on it. Later, when the course of conversation veered to the concerts that Beyonce' and Paul McCartney were giving that evening on TV and my father wondered what Paul needed the money for, Uncle Schmucky barked, "Yeah, or Elton John. FAGGOT!" So, besides the six pack, he also brought homophobia to the Thanksgiving table.

There was a short pause as the rest of my family, who are aware that I'm gay, took this in and kinda waited to see how I would react. Mind you, I hadn't talked to Schmucky beyond shaking his hand and saying hello while I was busy in the kitchen because I don't like him or the way he treats my mother who charitably invited him over because his former wife and children want nothing more to do with him. While I continued to enjoy my meal, I processed Schmucky's outburst. I wasn't shocked or mortally offended by his outburst because a) Schmucky does as Schmucky is; b) he has nothing useful to say anyway; c) I'm sure Sir Elton has been called a faggot many times in his life to his face and behind his back and we weren't expecting him to drop by; d) it wasn't directed towards me; e) as a homosexual, I choose how I label myself and which terms I do and do not find personally offensive; and f) Schmucky is not worth my time, effort, energy, breath, or any more space in this blog except as a charming anecdote.

When everyone started playing poker after dinner, I went to the computer room to read my current digital issue of "A Bear's Life" magazine (I'm a Tarot reader, not a card player). My mother came in to chat with me later and said, "I didn't know how you were going to react. I thought you might just say to him, "I'm gay, you know." I told her that her brother is an idiot, I didn't want to ruin dinner with an argument and couldn't be bothered trying to educate that drunk anyway, don't appreciate him commandeering the TV when he comes over and didn't know why she invited him in the first place (although I do understand her heart's in the right place, but with the wrong people). He was still there when I left and my mother foisted her other brother on me for a ride home, but I was thankful to return home to my babies who are much better company.

It's getting late, so until tomorrow night's weigh-in, good night, woof, and blessed be.

Thursday Night Weigh-In (11/19): All Work and No Play Makes John a Dull Bear

Hello, gentle readers. Let's get right to it, shall we? As of this past Monday (minus a half-walk that morning), I walked 18 1/2 miles, ate properly, went to the gym every night and only ate half the carton of ice cream afterwards. After Thursday night's workout, I kicked off my sneakers (which weigh about 2 1/2 pounds themselves) and stepped onto a plateau (I mean, the scale). 335 pounds like last week. Nothing lost, nothing gained. Good enough.

The bad part hit while I was driving from the gym to the supermarket. I started thinking: what more can I do to start losing weight again? Could I get up even earlier in the morning and do two full walks a day again? Cut back even more on my eating? Keep a food journal? And as all of these thoughts raced through my mind, I was brought back to my immediate surroundings when I realized I'd pulled into the wrong lane to go to the wrong supermarket (I needed to get gas at the other one).

Later that evening, after literally coming back to my senses after a well-balanced dinner of chicken breast and egg noodles with gravy and some Brussels sprouts, I took a moment to reflect on my perceived lack of progress and resulting frantic thoughts to how to redouble my efforts. I though about what a rigorous routine I'd already set for myself over the past seven months that's kept me moving from about 6:30 in the morning to 9 at night five days a week, walking 5-7 miles a day and alternately working out 45 minutes to an hour and a half where the only variation besides skipping the gym Friday nights was going there in the mornings on the weekends after a full walk and occasionally skipping the night walk to rest after doing my laundry or to have some semblance of a social life.

And now, as Winter is on its way and people are preparing to enjoy the holiday season, just as our pagan ancestors celebrated at Yule (Winter Solstice) the Earth Mother's rebirth of the Sun God at Yule to keep the darkness and loneliness of the fallow months at bay as they rested from their labors, after all the hard work and commitment I've put into making myself more attractive, healthier and stronger, I chose to ask myself a very important question that required several answers: WHAT MORE CAN I DO?

Q: WHAT MORE CAN I DO regarding exercise?

A: Absolutely nothing. I'm doing too much as it is. Besides working full-time, exercise presently eats up 3-4 hours of my weekdays with walking, working out and driving to and from the gym. While I am okay with that to some degree, it only leaves me about two hours in the evening to eat and relax before I go to sleep to start the process all over the next day, and there is no way in Hades I'm going to lose an extra hour of sleep or risk being late for work in the morning to fit in another full walk.

Q. WHAT MORE CAN I DO regarding eating?

A. Absolutely nothing. Why would I start cutting back on food when I feel physically hungrier this time of year? I could see some cause for alarm if I was bingeing and staying sedentary, but I'm not. I'm still walking morning and evening and working my muscles, but I actually need some energy to keep moving and that's where the food comes in. Food journal? Yeah, let's add one more thing to my busy schedule that I need to micromanage. That can go to Hades with that other hour of sleep I won't be missing in the mornings.

Q. WHAT MORE CAN I DO to keep moving forward with my weight loss efforts?

A: Less. The more I can do for myself is LESS. Crazy, huh? Amazing what pops up in your mind when you actually take a moment to listen. I've been pushing myself to reach weight loss goals, increase weight and repetitions on my workouts and stick to a food plan of my own creation that helped me lose weight until my struggles began this Fall. The struggle to get through the last weeks of a job that was no longer good for me. The struggle to assimilate a new job that won't last. Most importantly, the struggle to keep my Summer self as Winter approaches, and it's that last struggle that finally woke me up just as many other people are starting to fall asleep.

I'm a Bear, people. I'm not supposed to eat like a Bird or run perpetually on a wheel like a Hamster. On the one paw, I have a partner who loves me very much and several Bear friends who think I look great just the way I am, don't quite understand why I'm putting forth all this effort and kinda hope I don't lose too much weight, but support me anyway. On the other paw, I have a few friends who think the whole Bear thing is cute like my other idiosyncracies and have patted me on the back for my successes in losing weight but don't quite quite agree with how I'm going about all of this or understand why I only want to get to 300 pounds and seem a little worried I'll fall off the wagon and gain it all back plus, but support me anyway. I have to take or leave what they say on a regular basis because when it comes right down to it, I'm the one walking or working out alone, and I'm the one who decides whether he's putting the rest of the ice cream back in the fridge at night. I'm doing or not doing all of this by myself, for myself.

I have no plans of hibernating through Winter or quitting cold turkey (mmm, cold turkey). Thanksgiving's two days away, and I'm looking forward to sitting down with my family and having a great meal after I've walked, worked out and weighed-in at the gym (which is graciously open until noon). I will walk when I can, lift weights when the roads are clear to the gym and eat sensible meals in between festive occasions.

Desiderata, one of my favorite poems, says this among many other wonderful things: "Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself." I need to remember that there's a mind and spirit inside this body too, and since there's a lot more to me than just a big Bear trying to lose weight, this blog's gonna change right along with me. Stay tuned...

Good night, woof, and blessed be.

Thursday Night Weigh-In (11/12): Honesty Is the Bear's Policy

Hello, gentle readers (all five of you, I think). Sorry the blog entries are coming a bit late these days, but everything seems to be slowing down in Nature and nurture. After last Saturday's weigh-in, I gave it the ol' college try (which is appropriate since I'm working for one right now as a "casual employee" - that's TEMP to you non-PC folks out there) in getting back into my exercise routine. Saturday was the first of six days straight of going to the gym for alternating upper body/leg and stomach circuits and doing a full (3.5 mile) walk each day (except the night of the weigh-in; it was COLD out there!).

I stepped on the scale that blustery Thursday night and two more pounds were waiting for me for a not-so-grand total of 335. That's 11 pounds up from my lowest weigh-in to date of 324 pounds on October 15, and as that is a pound more than the ten-pound range I wanted to stay in after I got to maintenance at 300 pounds, which I'm moving farther away from by the week, it's time to reevaluate.

Yes, I was going through a difficult time of transition leaving a job and assimilating a new one, but it's been a month and the wheels have fallen off that excuse. Yes, the fall is upon us and it's colder and darker earlier outside now which makes it harder to get out of a warm bed to go for a walk in the morning or find the energy (much less the side of the track!) at night to go walking or work out at the gym afterwards, but look where the alternative is getting me?

There's a big difference between consciously putting your brain in a jar in order not to overwhelm yourself and to take one step at a time to reach your goals and unconsciously leaving your brain in that jar until Spring. Although I'm a Bear, I've already stated in "A Time for Balance" here that I don't have the luxury of hibernation this time of year and even though I may feel SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) because of it, that doesn't mean I can't walk twice a day, work out at night and put the ice cream away once I've eaten my designated half-carton rather than putting it ALL away in my stomach (which I've done a few times as of late, and before you jump all over me for eating THAT MUCH ICE CREAM before going to bed, it's sugar free, low-calorie, and I was still losing weight eating it when I was doing right by myself before and I will again).

I was going to skip blogging about this weigh-in since I'd already 'fessed up about Saturday's weight gain and hoped that walking, working out and watching what I was eating this week would make a difference and put me at a plateau when I weigh in tomorrow. But that would be more "cheating," and if I can't be honest with myself, I shouldn't even be writing this blog because sharing my struggles and successes with like-minded people for mutual support and enjoyment was the impetus for blogging in the first place, and although I like to joke about hibernation, I've kept myself asleep in the dark long enough.

So, time (if not light) permitting, I'm back to walking five miles a day (a half-walk's all my sleep and work schedule allow me in the morning), going to the gym six times a week (Fridays off for good behavior), and if I fall asleep before my evening snack like I did last night, all the better for tomorrow's weigh-in. Now, where are those resolutions I wrote a couple months ago for surviving the darker, colder months? There they are...

Saturday Night Weigh-In: Getting my Bearings (Two Weeks and Two Days Later)

Hello, gentle readers. It's a little after 11 pm here on Monday night so I'm even starting this blog entry two days later than its title, but I haven't blogged in awhile and wanted to give a brief synopsis of recent events leading to my most recent weigh-in (yes, two weeks and days late). When we last left the Big Bear, he was trying his best to maintain his sanity rather than weight loss and workout routines in struggling to finish his remaining duties before leaving his current place of employment. The day after my last weekly weigh-in of 329 pounds, when I found five of the six pounds I previously lost, I came home to find a voicemail from a staffing service asking if I was available for a senior level executive assistant position with a local university, but it was too late to respond that day. After enjoying a Halloween-themed baby shower on Saturday for the pregnant blogger who inspired me to start this blog and seeing Paranormal Activity (the movie; not actual activity) on Sunday, I returned their call on Monday, was told someone was being sent out on Tuesday and if she didn't work out, I would still be considered for the position.

Upon calling back Wednesday, they needed me to start tomorrow. This left me in the rather awkward position of having to explain to the four women in my department during my farewell lunch that not only would I have to leave two days early to start my new job, I also had to leave early two hours after said lunch for my last doctor's appointment covered by health insurance scheduled to lapse on Halloween! I had a delicious BBQ rib and chicken combo plate, received a card and gift card to Barnes and Noble, made the announcement which was thankfully accepted with kindness and understanding, did my best to straighten up my desk and affairs before leaving at 3:30, and got a clean bill of health from my doctor: blood sugar, blood pressure and cholesterol were great, keep up the good work and see you in four months, hopefully with renewed insurance. I went home, climbed into bed and slept in prep for the next day.

First. Days. SUCK! I took notes and tried to comprehend my new duties because my supervisor would be out the next day and starting her new position elsewhere on Monday, and after struggling with all this new input, I went home, ate dinner and embraced the oblivion of sleep. I welcomed the weekend with open arms, getting some new books and having a celebratory dinner with a good friend on Friday, having lunch with my mom and taking her to see Paranormal Activity on Saturday afternoon (glad I'd seen it already because she became nauseous a half-hour in due to the jerky camera movements and we left), and going to the home of a co-worker (who opted for early retirement and left a week earlier than me) to celebrate Halloween. She is an excellent cook: the fondue with Texas toast for dipping, pork tenderloin and potatoes she prepared were delicious and the candy was as good to me as it was to the trick-or-treaters. I opted not to celebrate the Witches' sabbat of Samhain and ring in the Celtic New Year this time, but I had a great time with my two friends and went to bed after the witching hour that night with a smile on my face.

After an extra hour of sleep on Sunday, I traveled to Queens for a meeting of the Bear Den, a social group for Bears that I've attended since its inception this April. I dressed up as a pirate as I was one in a previous incarnation according to one of my past life regressions. I don't think I quite looked like this back on the Barbary coast, but I felt good about my choice of costume:

Blackbear(d) the Pirate

Pirate's Booty (Bear Head and Crossbones! Grrr! Aargh!)

After the Den, I piled three other Bears into my car and headed over to the Eagle, a revered leather bar in Manhattan, for an evening with the BigMuscleBears (a website for, you guessed it, big muscle Bears who like to add stats like arm and chest width to their profiles). I spent $2 checking my leather jacket, $5 on a diet coke and stood around with said friends for two hours chatting, Bearwatching and actually feeling comfortable for the first time ever in a gay bar until a really cool cloud of white smoke came billowing from the DJ's booth that soon made it hard to breathe, stung the tongue to taste and effectively cleared the room! I took this as a good sign to drive the two hours home and get some sleep, a melancholy return to the Real World after a fun weekend or vacation that I forlornly call "falling back up the rabbit hole."

The next work week was daunting. I received a campus ID but as a "casual employee" (temp) I am unable to use it to enter the building I work in; missed the timesheet deadline by a day and therefore won't receive my first check by mail until this Saturday (hopefully); and was unable to find free parking anywhere. When I tried to work with the Parking Department to get a permit and have the fees deducted from my pay on a sliding scale, the staffing service wouldn't agree to it so I am partially working to just afford to park at work. During a meeting with an IT technician, my supervisor also made it clear that he wanted my computer configured so that I, who was there to "help out for a couple of weeks," and whoever will replace me will be able to use the computer for their clerkship. All week I did my job, went home, had a nice meal, put my brain in a jar to relax until the next day, enjoyed a bit more ice cream at night than usual, got plenty of rest and left my exercise and eating habits on hold for awhile.

When this weekend arrived and I had no plans, I knew it was time to get back on track, which was where I was thinking about this latest blog entry during my second full walk on Saturday right before going to the gym for my workout and weigh-in. I originally thought about "getting back on the horse," but a memory made that analogy rather inappropriate. During my orientation week for college in 1988, us new students were invited to a local resort for a meet and greet picnic complete with swimming pools, group games and horseback riding. For reasons still fresh from high school (see my "Fitting In at Planet Fitness" entry for more details), I opted for the latter of the three, but much like seats in theatres and on certain amusement park rides, there is an element of risk in attempting to enjoy such things and discovering you don't quite fit and I was told in no uncertain terms by the horse wrangler that I would not be saddling up that day. So instead of getting back on the horse, I am getting my bearings; much more apropos for a blog such as this.

After walking seven miles and doing a full upper body circuit, I stepped on the scale and faced the music. 333 pounds, people. Gained four pounds over the past two weeks, about two pounds a week, and I now weigh one pound more than I did when I started this blog. I gave myself a vacation from exercising and eating less for a couple of weeks as part of having fun during a time of great stress, gained about two pounds a week (which is generally what physicians recommend you lose a week), and as of the end of this blog entry I have done at least a full walk and a circuit at the gym every day since Saturday and will resume my Thursday weigh-ins this week. Since my new job feels more manageable now, it's time to get back to the Good Work I've been doing for myself, and even though I'm not a big muscle Bear (yet) and don't feel the need to go horseback riding again anytime soon, I think my Bear butt looked pretty darn good in those boxers!

Thursday Night Weigh-In: Managing Expectations

Hello, gentle readers. As mentioned in last week's weigh-in, it's been another rough week for work and working out. I began the week on track on the track, walking seven miles and doing the full upper body circuit on Saturday, then 3 miles on the treadmill and a leg and stomach circuit on a rainy Sunday morning. Walked another 7 miles on Monday but was too tired to go to the gym, 3 1/2 mile full-walk Tuesday morning but took the night off. Because I needed to get to work on time Wednesday to be taken out for a bon voyage dinner that evening and had an interview workshop first thing this morning, I've only had time for a half-walk (1.6 miles) the past two mornings.

This evening, I did a full-walk at the track with some great weather for wearing shorts, a full upper body circuit at the gym and stepped on the scale. No change, folks. I plateaued this week at 329 pounds, and I'll take it! However, I am going to have to relinquish my second intermediate goal of 320 pounds by Halloween because there is no way in Hades I'm going to push myself to lose nine pounds in the next week. It's unrealistic, especially with my last week of employment to work through. Tomorrow marks my fifth year anniversary with the agency I'm now leaving, and although tomorrow would be the perfect day to say goodbye, I am pushing myself to finish what I started with this mantra: I've worked there five years, I can make it through five days. But it will be difficult and stressful not only tying up loose ends for my department before I leave but also saying goodbye to my wonderful co-workers who honored me last night not only with a free meal, Hallmark card, gift card to the movies and Reese's treats, but also with their presence, laughter, friendship, and support.

For the next week, I will have to manage the expectations of my department as well as my own because there is only so much I can do for either of us. I won't be able to accomplish everything before I leave my job, just as I won't be able to reach 320 by next Thursday, but I'll do the best I can for them and myself until next Friday. And on All Hallow's Eve, when the moon is full and the Celtic New Year begins, I will celebrate my newfound freedom, look forward to embarking on a new career path while letting go of the old one, and have the energy and time to revisit my weight loss resolutions (see the "A Time for Balance" blog entry here). I'll even have an extra hour to sleep in when we "fall back" from Daylight Saving Time on November 1st!

And it's now the witching hour and time for bed. I've got a full-walk ahead of me tomorrow morning, so until next time, good night, woof, and blessed be.

Thursday Night Weigh-In: The Scale Taketh Away, The Scale Giveth Back

Hello, gentle readers. Drove to the gym last night through the first very light snow flurry of the season. Did a half-walk (1.75 miles) on the treadmill and a full upper body circuit, then stepped on the scale. The teeter tottered again this week and I found five of the six pounds I lost last week: I now weigh 329 pounds. I was just as incredulous with the big gain this week as I was with the big loss last week.

It has been a rough week and things won't get easier until the end of the month. At work, I chose to enter into an "agreed transition plan" with my supervisor because I've been overwhelmed for quite some time pulling double duty as an estates administrator and executive assistant for four people in my office, so my last day of employment is October 30. There have been many other layoffs, tension is in the air, I'm forcing myself to work on estates and tie up loose ends when part of me has already left the building, and I want to surrender it all but I have two weeks left to go. I felt physically drained a couple of nights this week like I was fighting off possible illness, so I gave myself a couple of nights off from walking and the gym to "feed a cold" and get some good nights' sleep.

I'll do my best to keep my walking and exercise routine going in order to fight stress and make my way towards the finish line, and by Halloween I will finally have the freedom to walk and work out as well as job search and interview in hopes of finding a great new job. And, if I have to move back in with my parents for awhile due to my unemployment, the gym is in walking distance!

Good Night, Woof, and Blessed Be.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Bearholder

Hello, gentle readers. If you were to ask me why I'm walking, working out, weighing in and waxing poetically here in this blog about losing weight and gaining muscle, I could give many different responses. I could say I'm doing it for my health, which is true. I'm becoming progressively healthier in lowering my blood sugar, pressure and, after this month's blood test, possibly my cholesterol. I could say I'm doing it so my clothes will fit and look better on me, which is also true, although I'm between sizes right now and the clothes I have taken out of storage are kinda hanging on me until I get down to the next size in a few weeks. But the truth of the matter, after years of trying to convince myself to the contrary and yet to a much lesser degree than mainstream "gay culture", is that physiologically, psychologically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually and sexually, I am more comfortable in my own skin when there is less fat beneath it.

It's been a long road in allowing myself to come to this realization. I was a sensitive kid growing up, didn't want to hurt anyone and wasn't quite sure why people were being so mean to each other and occasionally to me. I didn't fit in with other kids, preferred the company of adults or a book, was introverted and didn't like to participate in group activities. And when I hit puberty with all its mysteries at about 12 years old, I snuck a porno magazine one night, saw a picture of a naked man and woman, realized I was more interested in the man, and things got worse. The immediate awareness I was homosexual was proceeded by a decade of fear, secrecy, internal bargaining, self-loathing and arrested development.

I felt I was harboring a horrible secret that set me apart from others and my adolescent brain told me if my parents or other people ever found out about my true nature, I would be shunned, ridiculed, ostracized, disowned and thrown out into the cruel world alone. I became a people pleaser, feeling I needed to be and do what other people wanted in order to be liked, much less loved, and in my loneliness and quiet despair I became a compulsive eater, shoving my feelings down with food, gathering several foods rather than friends around me on Saturday nights and doing the one thing I felt I had control over: I could sneak as much food as I wanted and nobody could stop me.

I gradually became a fat, quiet, acne-ridden kid who was asexual to my acquaintances and skirted the fringes of society while silently exploring my sexuality through porn from the age of 15 (I looked older than I was and the video stores didn't card me). First straight, then gay porn when I worked at video stores and rented such forbidden fare under other peoples' outdated memberships. I'm not effeminate by nature, gave the semblance I was straight by going to three proms with female friends in high school, and although I was accused of being queer by my first prom date when I opted to fall asleep on her rather than sleep with her, I got through high school under the gaydar.

I finally developed the courage at age 22 to come out of the closet to my parents at. Ironically, I was hiding my personal porn stash in my own closet at the time and was sitting Indian-style in front of my parents' walk-in closet when I told my mother. She asked me why I thought I was gay and I told her I'd been attracted to men sexually since puberty. But if I'd never been with a woman, how did I know? The same way a straight guy knows he doesn't want to have sex with his buddies, I guess, but I told her I'd known since I was 12. We were both seeing the same therapist at the time and when I went to my next session he said, "So your mother tells me you think you're gay?" Great affirmation and therapist-patient privilege there, doc, and my gossipy mother would continue to out me to friends and other family members willy-nilly in the years to come.

About a week after I told my mother, I came out to my father during Sunday dinner. The conversation evolved from him telling me to cut the fat off of my roast beef to me standing across the room saying, "I'm never gonna be the son you wanted!" After the truth was out, my father took it well, saying "As long as you're not hurting anyone, do what you want." Which, strangely enough, is the Wiccan Rede: "An' it harm none, do what thou wilt," that is the basis tenet of my religion of Wiccan, and perhaps coming out of the broom closet a couple years before had softened the second blow for my parents in learning that their son was alternatively sexual as well as spiritual. As I continued to come out to family and friends over the years, no one turned their back on me or reacted very negatively, and my self-acceptance has grown to the point I feel comfortable sharing such intimate details in this blog.

I confirmed my theory in practice in the summer of 1993 by having sex for the first time with another man named John, became more comfortable with my sexuality and never felt the desire to have sex with a woman. I also grew a beard for the first time, was ready to explore my sexuality with other men with very little idea how to do so, and weighed 365 pounds. I wrote and answered personal ads in local papers and got together with some rather interesting characters, but in retrospect I was comparing some flaw in the people I met to counteract my heaviness: You can't belittle me for being fat because you're older/look kinda funny/are fat too. Not the greatest way to meet potential partners, but I didn't know any better at the time.

I met another man through the personals who introduced me to Girth and Mirth, an organization that catered to larger men and their admirers. I was popular there in the beginning, immediately becoming a cover model and Full Monty centerfold for their newsletter, the Fat Apple Review, and wrote a column, "Musings of a Satyr," for a few months. Girth and Mirth was a place where fat was a desirable attribute to "chubby chasers" (men who are not fat but are sexually attracted to fat men) and "chubs for chubs" (fat men who love other fat men), and although I appreciated being found attractive by other men, I couldn't appreciate that these men were attracted to me for being fat because I did not feel attractive because of it.

I had finally accepted myself as a homosexual, but due to years of trying to hide it and coping through compulsive eating, when I finally came out I was pigeonholed into the only gay sub-culture that would have me. I was a chub who didn't want to be a chub or desired for being a chub. I wanted to be like some of the chasers who were attracted to me who were variably smaller, shorter, taller, stockier, leaner, beefier, hairier, balder, more muscular, more masculine and, above all, happier and more at ease with themselves than me.

I wanted to be a BEAR: those furry, flannel-wearing, buzzcut, balding, bearded, moustached or goateed, masculine, macho, manly MEN who were MEN who loved other MEN. Through my years of pornographic research, I had become very familiar with this particular archetype. As I mentioned briefly in my first blog entry, Bears originated in San Francisco in the mid-eighties to turn on its ear the mainstream gay cultural norm: effete, slim, shaved, coiffed and trendy. There was an alternative to the mainstream (there always should be) and this one was for me.

In order to get a better idea of what a Bear is and why I identify as one, here's an excerpt from Wikipedia for some further insight (the italics below are my own interjections):

Bears tend to have hairy bodies and facial hair. (I have a hairy chest and forearms and although I would like my body to be hairier than it is, age seems to be cooperating in sprouting more hair on my back and shoulders. I also have a full, trimmed beard.)

Some are heavyset. (Obviously I am heavyset and am working on it. From my own limited experiences at Bear events, Bears can be quite exclusionary due to size which is why I differentiate as a Big Bear rather than a chub. At a Bear Pride weekend in Chicago (which originated as a Big and Bear weekend for chubs and Bears alike), I was standing in an elevator with three friends who weighed from 250 to 600 pounds, and two "muscleBears" snidely informed us that "fat guys aren't Bears." They're idiots, of course, but my own internal view of the Bear I want to be is heavyset but not obese. I will always be a Big Bear due to my height and bone structure, but I do not identify as a chub.)

Some project an image of working-class masculinity in their grooming and appearance, though none of these are requirements or unique indicators. (Although I am white-collar and dress appropriately for work, on the weekends I'm more comfortable in T-shirts and shorts/sweats, and although I show no signs of male pattern baldness at 39, I buzzcut my head to a 1/4 inch in length. I'm not looking to "project an image," but I do appreciate masculine clothing and grooming and find it very attractive in other Bears).

Some Bears place importance on presenting a hypermasculine image and may shun interaction with, and even disdain, men who exhibit effeminacy. (Live and let live. I have grown to appreciate that I am a man who loves men and am therefore attracted to men who act like men. I enjoy being a Bear and socializing with other men who identify as the same, and if I fall short of the mark in what being a Bear means to other Bears, it doesn't make me less of a Bear. I understand that all us humans have a masculine and feminine side, and in past fear of my homosexuality I identified more with women until I decided to accept myself as a man who has every right to be one. These days, I don't let blanket statements made by women about men slide anymore. I am a man, not a woman or a man in a dress (which just looks silly with a beard). However, I think there's nothing sexier than a big burly guy who looks like he can punch your lights out but gives you a big Bear hug instead).

The Bear concept can function as an identity, an affiliation, and an ideal to live up to, and there is ongoing debate in Bear communities about what constitutes a Bear; however, a consensus exists that inclusion is an important part of the Bear Community. (I see the concept of Bear as an identity and an ideal to live up to rather than an affiliation. Inclusion should be our goal because if Bear communities are in fact debating about what constitutes a Bear, I will leave the community and be a lone Bear because I don't want to belong to a community that is going to dictate how I have to dress, act and live. THAT'S WHY THE BEAR ARCHETYPE WAS CREATED IN THE FIRST PLACE!)

And that is why I identify myself as a Big Bear. I am big but I don't identify as a chub because I do not embrace my size, and I am actively working to change my weight and musculature and make my body into the Bear that my mind and spirit finds more appealing for ME. I am a Bear because I identify as one, and I will continue to be a Bear while, and after, the Bear Community debates about whether what I am constitutes as a Bear; I don't need to be a card-carrying member, thank you very much. Thanks for creating an identity that I can finally embrace as my own; I'll take it from here.

I continued in the grand tradition of coming out of the closet, broom closet and Bear cave when I was talking to my long-distance partner on the phone one evening a couple of months ago (we touch base about twice a week to see how the other is doing and to share our lives and love with one another). I'd mentioned to him before that I'd been walking and working out for the past few months and had lost some weight, but I had been about 380 when I first met him. He joked with me about becoming a "twink," which is a slang term for a young gay man with a slender build, a smooth body and no facial hair (the antithesis of a Bear). I joked back that me being a twink was genetically impossible, but I did ask him if he was okay with my weight loss efforts because he liked me just fine before and now I was making some changes.

He told me I had to do what I thought was best for me and said that my looks were about 10% of why he loved me. He also appreciated my my good heart, my intelligence, my strength, the caring I have for others, how articulate I am, etc. Of course, he did mention he was rather fond of my belly and my butt, and I said I'd still have those but they might be a little higher, firmer and have more muscle than fat behind them the next time we met. He was fine with that, and I love him too for much more than his 200-pound frame, balding head, salt and pepper goatee, furry torso, droopy-dog eyes and sexy Southern drawl. All those things are great, but his attentiveness, sense of humor, caring for his mother, pug, and me, laid back attitude, etc. will still be there if he happens to shave or finds the 50 pounds I lost.

Even though I may not be the "Bearest of them all", beauty (or, in this case, "Bearity?") is in the eye of the Bearholder, and I see its reflection in the Bear I love, the other Bears I meet, other people who appreciate and affirm my self-identification as a Bear and, first and foremost, staring back at me in that mirror.

Until next time, Good Night, Woof, and Blessed Be.

Thursday Night Weigh-In: Guess Things Caught Up With Me

Hello, gentle readers. As the past week has been rather stressful at work, I ate more and walked less than I usually do and missed an extra night at the gym. Since I gained two pounds last week, I wasn't feeling very positive about this week's weigh-in and had some doubts about whether I'll be able to reach my second intermediate goal of 320 by October 31st, but I did my upper body circuit, stepped on the scale in the locker room, and hoped for the best.

Six pounds this week. I LOST six pounds this week! Stepped off the scale and back on just to be sure. Don't quite know how; perhaps my efforts from the week before caught up with me this week, my metabolism got higher or my muscles are burning calories at rest. Don't know, don't much care; I'll take it! I weigh 324 now, lost 54 pounds so far and have three weeks to lose four more to reach 320 by Halloween. Onward and downward!

Good night, Woof, and Blessed Be!

Fitting In at Planet Fitness

For the first time in my life, about five years after I began my actual membership, I am going to the gym at least five times a week. I decided recently to give myself Friday night, the night after my weekly weigh-in and the end of my work week, off from the gym and on occasion, either due to fatigue, the lateness of the hour or scheduled engagements, I take another night off, but I always make sure to return with an upper body circuit because that's where I need the most work. I often tell people that if the rest of my body was as strong and muscular as my calves I'd be a happy Bear, but since it's not, off to the gym I go.

As blogged before, I lost weight the first time by sticking to a food plan and the second by watching my food intake and walking daily, but this time I added working out to the mix. I decided to join the gym back in 2004 when I returned home to live with my parents and a Planet Fitness was preparing to open in a sports center a 1/4 mile down the street from their house. This was a bit daunting for several reasons.

Let's take a very short trip in the Wayback machine for a moment. Bluntly, I was a fat gay cub back in high school who was ashamed of my body and sexuality and tried my best to blend into the woodwork. However, you can't do that in gym class. Why?

Formula #1: Fat Kid + Basketball = Skins. Since I have spoken to three women who didn't know what I was talking about, here's an explanation: in boys' gym class, the teams for basketball are "shirts" and "skins"; one team wears shirts, the other doesn't. So I had to face the snickers and taunts of Abercrombie classmates as I was forced to expose my pale, backne-scarred flesh to the rest of the class which jiggled as I was actually expected to participate in the game.

Formula #2: Gym + Fat Kid - Showers = Terrified Sweaty Smelly Fat Kid. Thankfully, only once was I forced by a disgusted gym coach (who I had a crush on!) to take a shower with the rest of the class, and the resulting snide comments and hyperventilation under a freezing cold spray was my personal equivalent of a similar shower scene in Carrie. It would have been nice if the stress had caused my telekinesis to kick in, but instead from these two formulas I just developed a grave dislike for physical fitness and those to whom it came naturally.

I acknowledge my gym class experiences could have been immeasurably worse as a teen and I was lucky to have been spared such horrors, but with the distance and healing that 18 years and five therapists provided, I sat in an office under construction one April afternoon day with a trainer named Jason and went over a relatively inexpensive membership plan for Planet Fitness, a gym that would soon open and had just begun a franchise. I arrived shortly after the grand opening and he taught me the upper body and leg/stomach circuits that I still use today. We later had a parting of the ways when he copped an attitude after I suggested the track on the treadmill I'd been using might need a shot of silicone spray to stop squeaking, but he was gone when I returned to the Planet this April and the treadmills don't squeak anymore either!

I did the usual you might expect from a new gymgoer: signed up, used the gym intermittently for a couple of months, then stopped and continued to pay my monthly fee for years without attendance. When I finally returned it took me about a month to refamiliarize myself with the equipment and feel comfortable being there, but during a week of vacation work in May I began working out six days a week and upping the weight and repetitions every six weeks, as I will do again tomorrow. I got bit by the gym bug, and as a Former Fat Kid (FFK; wow, what an appropriate sounding acronym!) I couldn't have asked for a better gym to "fit in."

First of all, Planet Fitness is marketed as a "Judgement Free Zone," believes its members should not be judged by others due to their size or skill level, and is not geared toward bodybuilders or powerlifters. There are also 13 rules of etiquette that their franchises adhere to (for the most part). Here they are with my personal comments in italics:

1. A "lunk alarm" (a siren with a spinning red light) is on the wall and will supposedly be set off by management when a member a) drops weights; b) "grunts" when lifting; or c) judges another member. Dropping weights and grunting are at a minimum in my location (although there was a big brouhaha in Wappingers Falls, NY in which a corrections officer had his membership revoked for grunting), and I've never heard anyone being judgmental towards another member unless it was harmless goading between workout buddies.

2. The banning of grunting, swearing and psyching-up rituals. Little grunting and no psyching-up rituals, but plenty of intermittent low-decibel swearing, some of it from me!

3. No cell phone use on the gym floor. Right above the front desk it's clearly printed that except for the lobby area, the place is a cell phone-free zone, but this is not enforced and often broken. Whatever.

4. The banning of excessive noise from bar drops, etc., e.g. Olympic lifts. Boy, they really don't want you grunting or dropping weights in there, huh?

5. The restriction of dumbbell weights to a maximum of 80 pounds. As I'm sticking to the plate machines until maintenance, I have no idea if anyone is trying to lift dumbbells over 80 pounds.

6. No squat racks. Huh?

7. The banning of chalk, often used for heavy lifts such as deadlifts. Haven't seen any chalk.

8. No jeans, bandannas, do rags, skullcaps, boots or sandals. Haven't seen any of these, either.

9. Must wipe down equipment after each use. There is a small laminated statement taped to all machines reminding members to wipe down the equipment with a cleanser-soaked paper towel before and after use, but some guys do a few sets, get up and walk away without wiping down the machine; you know the type. O Thank you, Beef God, for gracing us not only with Your magnificent presence here but also leaving the gift of Your essence on the machine. It ain't the nectar of the Gods, lunk head; wipe it down!

10. No gawking at women and making them feel uncomfortable or trying to pick them up. Never witnessed this. Guess I've been too busy casting furtive glances at the beefcake to notice whether they were hungry for cheesecake. But I don't openly gawk at guys or try to pick them up; part of being a Bear is respecting another man's masculinity and sexual orientation for what it is, and I'm actually there to work out.

11. Short or revealing attire for men or women is banned. Basic gym gear is worn; no one's wearing rectal floss or peeling their shirts off outside of the locker room.

12. References to sexual orientation or any other offensive conversation is prohibited. YAY! The only possible exception to this, which was absolutely warranted, was the day I was between sets on the rowing machine and watched as a fratboy walked into THE WOMEN'S LOCKER ROOM to weigh himself. When he came out, his frat workout buddy said "I should weigh myself, too," and they both went back in. As they were coming out, a beefy bald guy said, "You do realize that that's the women's room, don't you? Are you women?" Alas, they were not women, just stupid. In their defense, the women's locker room is denoted by the Venus symbol for woman with an "F" in the center. Perhaps they weren't up on their astrological symbols and thought the F stood for Fratboy, I don't know. And the beefy guy did question their biological sex, not their sexual orientation, so he didn't break this rule.

13. No lewd acts or public affection on the premises. Did see a couple macking on one of the exercise benches one night and fleetingly thought "Get a room, or at least a tanning booth." That's about all the public affection I saw, and no lewd acts.

Their mission statement is also as follows: "We at PF are here to provide a unique environment in which anyone, and we mean anyone, can be comfortable. A diverse, judgment-free zone where a lasting, active lifestyle can be built. Our product is a tool, a means to an end; not a brand name or a mold maker, but a tool that can be used by anyone. In the end, it's all about you. As we evolve and educate ourselves, we will seek to perfect this safe, energetic environment, where everyone feels accepted and respected. We are not here to kiss your butt, only to kick it if that's what you need. We need you, because face it, our planet wouldn't be the same without you. You belong!"

It's been great to have a gym within ten minutes' driving distance from my apartment and ten minutes' walking distance from my parents' house. Although I'm usually there between 7 and 10 during the week, my branch opens at midnight on Monday, doesn't close until 9 pm on Friday and is open from 7 to 7 on Saturday and Sunday. I'm left alone to do my workouts, if someone else is using the plate machine I want I just move to the next machine until it vacates, the music is okay, there's never a wait for a treadmill and the people are cordial. In the locker room, there is a scale for weigh-ins and two closed shower stalls (although I shower at home!)

I did read other blogs and consumer reviews in gathering information about Planet Fitness for this entry and there are some very pissed off people out there who find the place and its rules too restrictive. Personally, I feel I lucked out in becoming a member of this particular franchise. I wanted to go to a gym where I could learn how to weight train and then be left alone to do it. I've never gotten attitude from the other members, the staff has never swooped in to ridicule anyone (one trainer did congratulate me on my perseverance about a month ago), and the lunk alarm has never gone off.

I appreciate the fact that this gym caters to people like me who want to work out without being judged. I've seen people there of all different ages, sizes and races working out on the plate machines, treadmills, stationary bikes and ellipticals, and there's even a 30-minute workout area with 10 machines and a traffic light where you either work out on a machine or step up and down on a central platform while the light's green and either wipe down the machine and breathe or prep on the next machine while the light's red. The free weight area is mostly populated by more experienced weightlifters but everyone is focused on exercising and there's no perceived hostility.

It's a good workout and, for me, a good place to work out.

Good night, Woof, and Blessed Be!

Mini-Blog Entry: Thanks for the Support, Fellow Riverwalkers

Hello, gentle readers. During this morning's walk, I was pulled away from my reading three times by fellow walkers. The first was an older woman who walked past me before I reached the last tenth of a mile before the halfway point to say "Looking good!" I thanked her very much, gave her a smile and kept going. Later, when I came out of a tunnel that goes beneath the local highway and came to a small uphill zig zag back to the last stretch of walk near the river, two women walking what looked like Toto said "Wow, you're doing great! How much weight have you lost?" I said "Fifty pounds" (nice round number; going into specifics ruins the effect) and they said "That's great, keep up the good work!" I said "Thank you very much, have a great day!" Another couple tenths of a mile and I looked up again as a Hispanic woman said, "Good morning, my skinny friend." She had complimented me a week before on how great I was doing and how I had inspired her, and I gave her a smile and a good morning too.

Although I tend to be rather introverted and find that reading lets my feet do the walking and my mind do the wandering to the point where I thankfully lose track of how far I've walked and how far I have to go until I look up for a moment to acknowledge my surroundings, I do appreciate my fellow walkers for their kind words, smiles and encouragement that motivate me to keep up what I have dubbed "the Good Work." Sometimes self-talk or inspirational reading can only take you so far; a kind word (or several) from another human being goes a long way. Thanks again, ladies.

Thursday Night Weigh-In Headline: Zombie Gains Two Pounds!

Hello, gentle reader. Did a full walk in full dark last night with the moonlight to guide me. As I was rather tired, had nothing to read and put my brain in a jar, the only thing animated about me was my legs. My eyes were half-closed, my head thrown back and supported only by my neck, my arms hung at their sides and I shambled down the path and back like a zombie (apropos of the season). I woke up in time to work on my legs and stomach at the gym, then kicked off my sneakers, stepped on the scale and saw that I found two of the three pounds I lost last week and am back to 330 pounds.

Aw shucks. These things happen. Not happy about it, but not devastated either. I just reminded myself that when I maintain my weight loss later on, I'm going to fluctuate by a few pounds. I enjoyed more food than usual this past week and skipped a couple of leg and stomach circuits at the gym, so rather than beat myself up about it, I'll just stay with my routine and go the distance.

I realized something about zombies tonight. Although the walking dead could care less about diet and exercise, they do get cardio shambling after their victims and plenty of protein. Hmm.

Good night, Woof, and Blessed Be.

The (Dis)Advantages of Putting Your Brain in a Jar

I find it interesting how after a few years of throwing caution to the winds, not bothering watching what I ate, worrying about my health or getting any exercise to speak of, I have jumped back on the proverbial band wagon (not the lap band wagon, as I've already mentioned that lap band or gastric bypass surgery was too sci-fi for consideration) after yet another wake-up call from my physician and reasserted learned food and exercise basics that have helped me lose 50 pounds, almost three waist sizes and, with the addition of weight training, have started to improve my skin tone and musculature. But I find it interesting that both circumstances, for worse and now better, have involved putting my brain in a jar.

When I did this after abandoning my last weight loss effort, my old routine involved sleeping in as late as I could in the morning, getting ready for and going to work, then coming home to decide whether to have rice, potatoes or pasta with a whole rotisserie chicken and box of Oreos for dessert. Like the cookies, I was double stuffing myself back then, and when the sugar kicked in it was time to surf the 'Net or lie in bed and watch TV until I fell asleep. I was also waking up every hour or so to urinate because my body was doing its valiant best to eliminate the sugar I was mindlessly pouring into my system, and then I'd glug down more water or soda due to the dehydration I was causing. I wasn't thinking for any length of time about how heavy I was becoming, how tired I felt or what I was doing to my body; that would have required effort. I was hibernating the best way I knew how with an occasional flare of self-awareness.

It required a trip to the doctor's office (which I was avoiding because I wasn't taking care of myself) to make me take my brain out of the saccharine solution it was floating in and put it back in my head to think about what I was doing. I must admit the previous 2 1/2 years of daily walking must have paid off because I managed to only put back 97 of the 173 pounds I'd lost, and the doctor's scale provided some motivation because I thought I weighed 10 pounds more than I actually did. After blood tests I was put back on five different medications, told to monitor my blood sugar daily and lose 10-15 pounds before my next visit in two months. After about four months of following his orders and my own, my blood pressure is great, my blood sugar is just below the range it should be for someone who's had diabetes as long as I have, and my energy level is much higher which, these days, it needs to be.

As you can see from my second blog entry, I am presently on the go every weekday from 7 am to 9 pm from walking to driving to working to driving to walking to working out. There is some variation on the weekends, but I try to start my day with at least a full walk and go to the gym right afterwards, and it's nice to be able to veer from the weekday schedule. Now that I'm eight pounds within reach of my second goal to weigh 320 by Halloween, have been gradually increasing repetitions and weight in my strength training routine, and have been literally going "bargain basement shopping" by taking smaller-sized clothing out of storage I now fit back into and giving my larger clothes to charity so I won't have them to fit back into, I am gradually feeling the need to put my brain back in the jar.

Before you think I'm packing it in (and packing the pounds back on), let me explain. After having used my brain again to reeducate myself on how to lose weight, to read fitness and weight loss books for motivation, to chart my strength training exercises, to remember doctor's visits and when to take my medications and blood sugar readings, I have trained myself to do what I need to do and have done it well. It took quite a bit of thought to figure out how to make all of this happen and to convince myself, and then my body, that I could do it, and now that I have recircuited my brain to know what works best for me, I need to put it back in a jar so my body can continue to do what it needs to without so much continuous input!

I know now to meet my final goal and lose 28 pounds before the end of this year, I need to keep doing what I have been doing which has worked beautifully so far. I also know that once I reach that goal, I will need to use my brain again to figure out how to continue walking, working out and eating properly to a lesser degree than the present pace I've established to maintain what I've accomplished. However, that's all in the future right now, and in order to get to that bright, sparkling achievement in three months' time, I have to get through today first.

Right now, I'm blogging during my half hour for lunch before I go back to balancing the budget for my department for the next four hours. Then, I have about a 40-minute drive home, need to shop for groceries and withdraw my rent to bring to my landlord, feed my cats and eat a little something before I suit up for a half walk at the track and a full upper body circuit at the gym. I'll get home about 9, fire up the VCR to tape a couple of shows while I fix dinner and then finish this blog entry before I climb into bed and go to sleep. It all seems doable when I've written it out on my blog for your (hopeful) reading pleasure, but that's the condensed version. Brought to you by My Brain in a Jar.

Now that I've done everything in the last paragraph and am at home at my computer, what you didn't read before is the fact that I'm not a mathematically inclined person and although I can balance the budget, it is a painstaking process I'm not well-suited for. You didn't read about the stop-and-go traffic I sat in on the way home trying to remain awake, the inane conversation in the bank line at the supermarket, the banter running through my head at the track that I finished walking in the dark, the fatigue that would have set in if I had allowed myself to think about the 18 exercises I performed during my hour-and-a-half circuit at the gym. You're not reading about these things until now because if I don't put my brain in a jar and give too much creedence to all the things I do and deal with on a daily basis (as we all do), I run the risk of becoming overwhelmed.

If I don't take it one walk at a time, one planned meal at a time, one set of exercises at a time; if I don't pace myself and recognize when I need to slow down, take a break, or be careful not to injure myself; if I look in the mirror or step on the scale and don't like what I see there and fail to remind myself this is a process that takes Patience and Fortitude (just like the names of those two majestic stone lions out in front of the New York Public Library) to achieve gradual results; then I stop taking care of myself and all my time, effort and energy goes to waste as they are reversed.

Putting your brain in a jar can be a help or a hindrance. I can put myself into a fugue state where my weight, health and life can spiral out of control by not thinking about them, or I can put myself into a fugue state where I can regain control of my weight, health and life by not overthinking about it. I opt for the latter these days and will keep the jar handy for that purpose.


The Witching Hour approaches and I'm off to bed. Weekly weigh-in is tomorrow: wish me luck. Good night, Woof, Blessed Be, and welcome to October!

Thursday Night Weigh-In: A Nice Round (?) Number

Hello, gentle readers. I'm happy to report that two weeks after gaining a couple of pounds for the first time in five months since I started my weight loss efforts and staying the same weight last week, tonight I managed to lose those two pounds and another one to spare. I now weigh 328 and lost a total of 50 pounds! It did require getting back on track with my regimen, but it paid off.

Good night, Woof, and Blessed Be!

A Time of Balance

As of 5:18 pm EDT today, the Autumnal Equinox will be upon us. Equinox is a word meaning "equal night" and is one of two times a year when day and night are in balance (the other being the Vernal Equinox around the third week of March here in the Northern Hemisphere and, conversely, right now in the Southern where spring is starting). The sun's light will be shining directly on the Earth's waistline, the equator, and from that point forward sunset will be coming a little faster until Daylight Saving Time ends November 1st and 9-to-5'ers will be walking out into darkness after work.

As I mentioned at the end of my first blog entry, I am a Witch. Stood in a salt circle naked almost twenty years ago and self-dedicated to the Gods as a priest of the neopagan religion of Wicca and therefore consider myself to be a Wiccan Witch of the East. By the way, I am a male Witch, not a warlock (a derogatory Old Scottish term for "traitor" or "oathbreaker"). In this context, Charmed actually got it right as their warlocks were demons and evildoers of either sex, but these days, no matter what Bewitched told you, men are Witches, too.

In Wicca, the Autumnal Equinox is also known as Mabon, one of the eight Celtic Sabbats (solar festivals) and the second of three harvest festivals. In the Greek tradition I follow, Persephone, daughter of the Goddess Demeter, the Mistress of Grains and Fruits in their Season, was abducted and brought into the underworld of Hades to be the bride of the God by the same name. As Demeter searched in vain for Her daughter, She withdrew Her bounty from the earth and people began to die. Zeus finally demurred and said Persephone could return to Her mother as long as She ate nothing in the underworld, but Hades had tricked Her into eating six pomegranate seeds (talk about watching what you eat, huh?) For this reason, Persephone was bound to return to Hades' realm six months out of the year, and as Demeter mourns annually for Her daughter we have Fall and Winter until Her bounty returns to the earth along with Her daughter in the Spring (Vernal Equinox). It is a time for reflecting on balance, giving thanks, counting your blessings and preparing for the impending dark and cold.

Since I started my regimen in April, I've enjoyed warm weather, the occasional cooling drizzle and sunlight until 8 p.m. that has made it possible for me to walk and catch up on my reading on the walking track after work for months, but now I notice that by the time I get to the far end of the track, no light remains for reading and I am walking in the dark towards the lights of the commercial district on the way back. The weather is cool but still warm enough for shorts, the cicadas and other nocturnal buggies are chirping away and the moon is an archer's bow in the sky, but pretty soon it's going to be a lot colder and darker out here and it's time to start thinking about how that's going to affect my routine.

Perhaps it's time to invest in a pair of headphones because it looks like I'm going to have to trade my book in for a video screen on the treadmill at the gym soon. I'm not a big treadmill fan because I like to feel as if I've gotten somewhere from all that walking and I appreciate the fact that I'm walking the track at my pace rather than walking the pace of the track rolling beneath me. I guess it'll be nice to catch up on some shows, to know how many calories I've burned and my pulse rate at a glance, but I do prefer the outdoors to the gym.

With less and less sunlight to produce serotonin along with those endorphins, a touch of Seasonal Affective Disorder (isn't that SAD?) may also become an issue. I thought perhaps the tanning booth at my gym would provide some benefits of sunlight I'll be missing getting to the gym under cover of darkness later on, but apparently the light wavelength is different. Cravings for comfort foods like sweets and starchy foods also accompany this year (welcome to the holiday season!) and since I'm the human kind of Bear rather than my quadruped brethren, I don't have the option of hibernating for months at a time and living off my fat stores; lucky bastards! If you tell your employer you'll see them after hibernation in the Spring, they tend to stop being your employer.

So, what's a Big Bear to do to reach goal by the New Year? Here's my list of progressive resolutions:

1. Walk the track in the morning and evening for as long as the weather permits and soak in sunshine while it lasts. When the nose is froze and the ears feel like they'll fall off, get thee to a treadmill.

2. Get to bed earlier for plenty of rest. One of my favorite TV shows is Chelsea Lately, but as implied in the title it's on at 11 pm, my bedtime in the darker months. Luckily, my parents had me genetically altered before birth for tallness and aptitude with technological devices (traits neither of them possess), so I'll start setting the timer on my VCR to tape shows for earlier viewing the next day.

3. Acknowledge a moderate need for comfort food. Luckily, even though I'm a diabetic, visions of sugarplums don't dance in my head more than "bowl" foods during the dark half of the year: chicken soup chunky with meat, egg noodles, carrots and celery; beef stew chunky with meat, potatoes and carrots; substantial, stick-to-your-ribs, hungry man meals that warm your insides as they fill them. Every once in awhile, I need a no-holds-barred meal to remind how good food is, tastes and makes me feel to replenish myself on every level. Then, I can go back to my well-balanced food choices (by the way, in this blog you will never see the word diet unless is comes before the word soda because I'm not on one, they don't work, and to me diet is just "die" with a "t" at the end. You feel like you're dying while you're on one and once you come back to life by ending it you gain back the weight plus (+), which is where that "t" at the end comes in.)

4. Keep the holidays wholly. Halloween (Samhain, the Celtic New Year to us Witches), Thanksgiving, Yule/Christmas. There are a lot of holidays on the way, and with celebrations come feasts. So when holiday foods are laid on the table once again, I will partake of dishes I don't have every day within reason and celebrate along with everyone else. Then, leaving the leftovers elsewhere, it's back to the gym the next day to use all that caloric energy to walk and working out.

5. Sleep in my sweats and socks. This will make it a bit easier to leave the womb-like comfort of my toasty-cozy bed in the morning, shove on some sneakers and be halfway to the gym before it dawns on me that I am actually going there (especially before dawn).

6. Keep up the Good Work, hold myself accountable when need be, and keep on blogging about it!

Good night, Woof, and Blessed Be!

Turkey Vultures and Turkey Meatballs: Walking, Working Out and What's for Dinner

Hello again, gentle readers. Today I'd like to give you some idea of what my exercise and food regime is like on a typical weekday. The alarm goes off at 6:30 and I feed my little familiars:

Nyx (left - sister) and Nox (brother - right): my cats

Fluffy (black) and Bubastis (tabby): my sister kittens

I let the kittens and cats out to play for awhile, and about a half-hour later with the cats back in the house I hop in my car and drive three minutes to the Riverwalk, a beautiful walkway that snakes 1.7 miles from end to end with tenth-of-a-mile markers along the way. Since I walk to the end and back, it's almost a 3-1/2 mile walk, and since it's rare that I can find someone to walk with at 7 am, I bring a book with me.

I use the wooden fence to my right as a guide, and when other walkers stop me to ask how I can read and walk at the same time, I tell them as long as I'm not walking into the fence, I'm doing fine. The reading entertains me, takes my mind away from counting tenths of a mile, and if I need to process something on my mind that requires some inner dialogue, I leave the book in the car. Of course when I do, the other walkers say "What, no book today?"

On one of the outcropping towers to the left during the summer months, a wake of turkey vultures perch on the metal railings to air their feathers and crap on their legs (which actually provides a cooling effect called urohydrosis; thanks Wikipedia!) Besides wondering whether the one vulture perched on a pole in the center is some authority figure and watching their impressive wingspans as they ride the thermals high above the river, I also wonder if anyone were to drop in their tracks on the track whether those scavenger birds would happily descend upon the hapless pedestrian and pick them clean, giving us all incentive to walk and keep walking. Carry on, carrion! ('cause nothin' really matters...)

Anyway, after my morning trek I head home, get ready for work and make a couple of sandwiches (three slices of ham and one Swiss with mayo and mustard, or tuna and mayo, on whole wheat bread; found out the hard way when I started brown bagging it how quickly white bread can spike your blood sugar). My breakfast is a wheat bagel with butter, lunch is said sandwiches with a small bag of barbecue or sour cream and onion chips, and for the afternoon slump around three, I grab a granola bar from the vending machine. For cost effectiveness, I bring a two liter bottle of diet cola to work with me to wash it all down with.

When I get home in the afternoon, it's time to feed my familiars again and give them some pets, love and fresh air before the sweats go on and the cats go back in the house for their own protection. Then it's back to the Riverwalk, but depending on which circuit I'm doing that evening at the gym, I walk half or all of the track and back six days a week.

Before I head to the gym, let's have a little lesson in workout words so some of you will know what I'm talking about. Very basically, my exercise routines consists of repetitions (also known as "reps"), and a rep is one full range of movement (for example, one rise and fall of a push-up is one rep). The number of reps you do before you stop to rest is known as a "set." If you do 12 push-ups and stop, you have done one set of 12 reps. All of the sets of different exercises you do in one workout session is known as a "circuit." That's all you'll need to know because that's all I wanted to know.

On the nights when I do a full upper-body circuit (3 sets, 12 reps each of four exercises each for chest, back and shoulders and three exercises each for biceps and triceps), it takes me about an hour and a half so I only walk 1.6 miles on those nights. The next night, I do a leg and stomach circuit (3 sets, 12 reps each of 8 leg exercises and 3 abdominal exercises) which takes about 45 minutes, so I walk the full 3.4 miles on those evenings. I need to alternate these circuits every other day because the goal when you are weight training is to work the muscles to exhaustion in order to tear their fibers and then, as you rest those muscles for about 48 hours before your next workout, the fibers heal back stronger and the muscles develop. Another little lesson in case you didn't know.

These last two paragraphs were learned from Idiot's Guide To books and exercise routines I was given by a trainer when I finally joined a gym about five years ago, and I'm hoping to make this blog informative to those just starting out with weight loss or exercise as well as entertaining to everyone. The first time I lost weight, I followed someone else's food plan. The second time, I added walking to the mix and created my own food plan. This time around, hopefully the last time, I added weight training in hopes of maintaining my weight when I reach my goal of 300, tightening up my skin and gaining some muscle which actually burns calories at rest!

So, after about two hours of walking and weight training, I haul my sweaty self to the supermarket. I shop on a nightly basis since I'm never sure what I'm going to want for dinner. I tend to buy a lot of prepared or pre-cooked meals because when it's 9:45 and I haven't eaten yet, these foods or whatever was on the rotisserie that day is ready to heat and eat when I bring it home. I know I'm going to want meat; some kind of noodle, rice or potato; a vegetable in a low-fat butter or cheese sauce; and some sugar-free ice cream with or without sugar-free hot cocoa mix to add flavor and texture. The ice cream gives me a treat at the end of a long day and has been a staple of my weight loss efforts since WW '91 (see first blog entry for reference).

Tonight's dinner was beef tips in gravy with wheat egg noodles and a microwave pouch of Brussels sprouts in butter sauce, and I just got up and ate half a container of sugar-free Edy's Fudge Tracks ice cream: yum. One of my favorites is turkey meatballs, which are lower in calories than beef meatballs, heat in about two minutes and can be added to noodles or pasta, eaten on their own or as a cold snack before a workout on nights when my energy is flagging. Pre-cooked sliced chicken is also versatile and easy for the same reasons.

So, here is one Big Bear's exercise and food plan that has lost me almost 50 pounds in the past five months. I may eat more than some people, but I also exercise more and there are benefits to being a guy when it comes to weight loss. As long as one counteracts the other and enables me to lose a couple of pounds a week until I reach my goal by the end of this year, if it ain't broke, don't fix it! If someone is shocked by what or how much I eat or thinks I could improve my plan in some way, I tell them they are always welcome to give me some of their unsolicited advice. All they have to do first is walk the 5 to 7 miles and work out for 1-1 1/2 hours with me. Haven't had anyone take me up on that offer yet.

In the interest of full disclosure, I gained two pounds two weeks ago and still knew where to find them during this week's weigh-in. With a stomach bug that required a trip to the ER, a cold rattling my chest and a vacation that threw off my regular routines, my energy has recently gone into rest and recuperation.

Sometimes, when I'm upping the weight on the plate machines (those torture device-looking machines where you put a metal peg under the amount of weight you want to lift during the exercise), or adding a couple of reps to each exercise every six weeks to progressively challenge my muscles, or had a larger than average weight loss the week before, the scale doesn't budge the next week. Sometimes, you just need a night off, whether you need to relax, get some extra sleep, have a prior engagement or just need to have some fun. Sometimes, you just need to get some takeout, or your mom cooked your favorite meal and you want thirds, or you're out to dinner with friends and those boneless wings look damn good!

Those are the times you are allowing a necessary release of pressure, giving yourself a delicious or relaxing reward for all of the discipline and hard work that you've been putting into yourself for weeks, and giving yourself some perspective. It's been my experience that if you don't allow yourself such freedom every once in awhile, you run a risk of self-denial and resentment that can bring your efforts crashing down as hard as your ass falling off the wagon. The Greek God Apollo tells us to "know thyself" and "be moderate," but every once in awhile you need a night out with Dionysus, too.

Until next time...Good Night, Woof, and Blessed Be.

Introductions are in Order

Hello, gentle reader(s?) Please allow me to introduce myself...boy, that was a great song. My name is John, and I'm taking my first tentative step into the blogosphere as prompted by a co-worker of mine who's done the same recently in blogging her pregnancy and the impending birth of her first child. We are both pop cultured individuals who help keep one another sane in a hostile work environment (overworked, underappreciated, you know the story) through occasional emails, and she suggested I blog about my weight loss efforts which is a primary aspect of my life right now (among others) so, here we go.

Unlike the other weight loss blogs out there (of which I've read zero), this blog is going to be saturated with many rather unique aspects of my personality (multiple aspects, not multiple personalities). I'd like to share this blog with you in hopes that my musings outside the mainstream of weight loss thought and process will help me achieve the goals I set for myself, and I welcome your feedback, advice and support and hope to provide the same in kind. If something I write here inspires you, makes you think of things from a new perspective or ticks you off, please leave a comment and we'll discuss. If you have a fundamental (or fundamentalist) problem with who or what I am, however, you see that Next Blog button up on the top of the screen? Click on that and see where the blog Wheel of Fortune takes you (away from here).

That being said, here's some brief background in no particular order. As I said before, my name is John, I live in New England in a first floor apartment with one tabby and three black cats. I'm presently an executive assistant for a non-profit organization, have a Bachelor of Arts degree in English and still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. My parents have been married for 46 years and live 10 minutes away and my sister, divorced with two young sons, lives 20 minutes away.

Physically, I'm 39 years old, 6'2", and as of tonight's weigh-in (which happens every Thursday night at the gym wearing a T-shirt, shorts and socks with my keys in one pocket and my wallet in the other), I now weigh 331 pounds. To date, since I began walking, working out and making better food choices back in April of this year, I have lost a total of 47 pounds (I actually lost 49 pounds so far but after last week's vacation I found two of them again and kept them this week). Since that's my only gain in the past five months, I think I'm doing okay.

For those of you who did the math, I weighed 378 pounds when I went back to my doctor this April, and after a physical exam and blood tests was reminded that losing weight, along with five medications, would be a good idea for my Type II diabetes and hypertension. I will go into my exercise and food routines in later blog entries, by my progress so far has been great and I hope to drop a couple medications after another blood test this October. In the meanwhile, I am writing here as a stopgap measure to keep momentum towards my end-of-year weight loss goal: to weigh 300 pounds by January 1, 2010.

This will be my third (and hopefully last) major weight loss effort. I was a fat kid who started compulsively eating when I was about 12 and continued to do so until I weighed 338 pounds at age 21. I joined Weight Watchers with my mom in 1991 (yep, she's an emotional eater, too), and after sticking to their pre-Points program and going to weigh-in meetings every Wednesday to be inspired by our counselor, Candy (!), I lost 19 1/2 lbs. my first week, 120 altogether in the next eight months, and then took a picture standing beside a woman in the group who actually weighed what I had lost! I lost a woman! I looked great in my tux at my sister's wedding but I kinda looked like a deflated inner tube underneath, and when I asked my counselor why that was after I'd lost so much weight, she said "Well, you have to exercise, too." I know I was naive back then, but I don't recall any mention of exercise while I was there, just working the food program. And since I couldn't imagine eating by their food program for the rest of my life and was required to get to 188 pounds to attend maintenance meetings for free, my mom and I quit, made a beeline for the nearest KFC, and in the next two years I gained that woman back plus another 25 lbs.

About six years later after my first relationship ended, I consoled myself up to 454 pounds and managed to be diagnosed with Type II diabetes right along with my mother. My doctor suggested gastric bypass surgery but I felt that was too sci-fi for me and I needed to get myself under control. I started painfully walking a quarter a mile a day to THE SUNDAE SHACK (though I actually never bought ice cream there) and back to my apartment, and by progressively increasing my walking and cutting down on what I was eating, I lost 173 pounds over the next 2 1/2 years and got down to 281 pounds before...I again stopped walking regularly and eating properly. Not quite sure why that time, but I crept back up to 380 pounds, which I guess was my set point because I hovered there until this April.

So, in this first entry, I would like to explain why I call this is "A Big Bear's Blog". I became an emotional eater because I realized I was homosexual at about 12 years old and began 10 years of shame and secrecy in dealing with my sexuality. I have since "come out" to family, friends and more recently co-workers, and although "chubby chasers" have shown interest in me in the past and I was a member of Girth and Mirth, an organization that caters to large men and their admirers, I self-identify as and am attracted to Bears.

Bears, who originated in San Francisco in the mid-eighties during the AIDS crisis, hearkened a return to "men who love men who are men" with all the masculine trappings as an alternative to the effete, gym-toned, shaved and coiffed majority of "Chelsea boys" and "twinks" that dictated what was in vogue and acceptably desirable for gay men at the time. Another archetype was born of a masculine, bearded, hairy MAN who walked his talk and appreciated the company of his fellow men. I have always been attracted to and aspired to be this type of man, and about three years ago a Southern Bear, five states away and 11 years my senior, found me on the Internet, came to visit, put his paw print on my heart and we've been in long-distance love ever since (with occasional conjugal visits).

Well, the Witching Hour approaches (oh, yeah, I'm a Witch, too, but we'll talk more about that later). I hope you enjoyed this first entry and will come back for more. Thanks for your time. Good night, Woof, and Blessed Be.

Big Bear at the Bronx Zoo, 331 pounds