You're fat, Brandon

 I tell myself and others that I try really hard to be healthy. And it's true, in a sense. I can cook healthily, I enjoy working out. I like watching fitness videos and world strongest man videos. I have a tab saved on my phone with Henry Cavill's diet when bulking up to be Superman. I tell people I try really hard to be healthy, but right now, I realize I am more of a fan of it, than actually trying. Like many things, I look at it, I want to do it, and then I fantasize about it. 

The other night, after some snacking, I weighed myself. Monica and I have been eating more and more at home. I don't drink a lot of soda anymore at all. Very occasional beers and alcohol. My snacks recently have been chocolate covered almonds, regular almonds, jerky, and chips. I really thought that I found a middle ground for dieting. I was wrong.

I weighed 292.5lbs. The heaviest I've ever been. I knew when I looked in the mirror I looked heavier... But I sorta convinced myself it was just because I hadn't been going to my garage gym. I was losing muscle mass, but not gaining fat. 

I weighed myself the next morning, and its in the 280's. I think 288. I plan to weigh myself tomorrow to confirm (gotta get that average.)

The problem with this particular scenario is that I know when I see something like this - when reality hits me like a brick and destroys my mental image of myself, my first instinct is to change everything about my diet, start super hard at the gym and basically beat myself up. The way I do it is I throw a lot at me and just see what sticks. It's not the smartest approach, but slow isn't what I'm going for.

I am doing it again. I looked in the fridge, planning some ridiculous meals, trying to figure out every ounce of minute that can be served at the gym... but this time around I am trying really hard to make sure I keep the reality version of me in my head. I am not Henry Cavill or Eddie Hall. I am not buff or in shape. I want to be. Keeping the phrase "You're fat, Brandon" in my head is negative, but it isn't detrimental. It's realistic. I don't want to be fat. I want to be in shape. 

I took this news pretty hard the other night. I dusted off all the calorie counting apps and started planning right away and was in a pretty bad mood. I was disappointed in myself for not making more of an effort. Monica saw this and comforted me. She loves me, and she loves me no matter how I look. But I had to admit I don't love myself with how I look. I've fantasized that I look buff because my height and because I can tuck in a shirt and can still put on socks without effort. Unless I change something now, though, I'll start with those struggles eventually. 

The reason I am writing this isn't for encouragement or awareness or anything of that sort. I just know that my blog is a decent venting platform, and I wanted to go for it again. 

Other than this reality strike, my life has been fucking great. I just need to get this puzzle piece back into action.