50 Bandanas to Fit



Cookies of the dark side.



I have returned! Yes, I took a deplorably long hiatus from writing, but that happens to a lot of people who turn to the dark side.  They DO have cookies!  As a matter of fact, the dark side has so many cookies that I now have a decision to make. Either I can continue eating cookies on my path to "foodicide," or I can make sweeping changes to how I live my life. The decision was easy to make after I had to conduct several Skype interviews for work. Seeing my face on the screen as the camera on my computer sees me...well, let's just say that I might be able to stand in for new baby hippos on picture day. Oy.



Graduation photo-wow, hair.

 So what happened?  I was an athlete in high school, rugby and soccer player in my 20's, football player in my 30's.  I can honestly say that my skinny train has jumped the tracks several times.  Every single time can be attributed to depression. Yes, I suffer from it.  Depression can be a killer, but stubbornly refusing to get help, or accept help can be even worse. I come from a "boot-strap" family.  You pull yourself up by them when times are hard.  You make due. You get it together and keep it together. However, I also have lived with ADHD my entire life.  Therefore, everytime I get my shit raked into a cohesive pile, SQUIRREL.  Like every impulsive, distractible, intelligent person in the ADHD boat with me, I realize that the neat little pile of life I just raked together would be so much more interesting if I just jumped in it like leaves. And my life scatters.  And changes.  And major life changes have sometimes led me down the path of depression.  And when I'm depressed...I eat. And when I eat, I eat comfort food.  And comfort food derails my healthy train. (I just realized I don't want to be skinny.  I just want to be healthy).

My last day on the field.


Okay, so, what happened THIS time?  This time I retired from football.  After 10 years of up-downs, wind-sprints, and sweating buckets under all that gear in 100 degree weather, I gave it all up to pursue my dream of lying on the couch blissfully NOT being pummeled every weekend by women twice my size. Okay, that wasn't really my dream, but that is what happened. With this extreme life change came depression. Between Netflix, Sonic burgers, and my extreme addiction to Dr. Pepper, I launched up to 220lbs without passing GO or collecting $200. Then, the doctor told me I was pre-diabetic...and reminded me that I have a family history of heart disease...and told me I was fat. (Seriously-see previous posts). He's right.  I let myself go.


Fatty McMuncherson

July 18 of this year I turned 40.  I didn't experience any of the dread, or mid-life crisis stuff that one hears so much about. That is, I didn't think about it until I saw this picture. Note the glazed-over look as I try to cram an entire ice cream cone into my cavernous, gaping maw.The Dark Side had won! I had been brainwashed and was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. I was DEFENDING my decisions to eat like a pot-smoker in a Cheetos factory. The justification I gave myself for eating that ice cream cone like a junkie on crack was that it was my birthday. On my birthday I do what I want. But there was always a justification for eating like my heart would never get sick, like my pancreas would never burn itself in protest, and my liver would be 21 forever. Deep, deep down there was a hidden justification. In my heart I believed I didn't deserve any better. I believed that if I was going to feel worthless, I might as well eat what I wanted to. My lovely layer of fat insulated me and made me feel warm (hot actually-like Satan's Lair), and the food it took to keep me fat made me feel comforted. You didn't expect that turn to the serious, dear reader?  Neither did I, but I'm realizing I've made light of a serious issue for too long. It's can be both healing and lazy to find humor in all situations, when in reality there comes a time to face the painful parts of life. My coping mechanism has always been to turn things into a joke-my health is no joke. I need to face it and the issues behind it head on. So, I started by examining my relationships.

On July 21 I broke up with Dr. Pepper. He was a total dick anyway and just made me feel bad about myself. He was totally passive/agressive.  I ate salads. I walked around the block every day. I lost 20lbs.  I felt better. My knees didn't ache as much and my back felt better. Then, in my triumph over losing 20 lbs, I didn't do anything else. I rested on my laurels and my laurels grew soft and pudgy. My partner had to be on-board with this too. She has her own path to trudge, and her own method of trudging it. We agreed to work really hard at getting healthy. We had our "last meal" of unhealthy goodness from McDonalds.  Then a week later we had it again at McMenamins, and later at Red Robin, then Taco Bell, then Papa Murphys, then Jack-in-the-Box....and so on. We were on an endless merry-go-round of good intent and piss-poor action, and encouraging each other all the way.

So, now I'm sick and dizzy and want off the "I'm starting tomorrow" ride. I've decided to use my creativity and friend-base to help me climb this mountain.  Here is my plan.  I have approximately 50 bandanas.  Yes, that is a ridiculous amount, but I don't make fun of your issues, do I?  So, in order to make awesome use of my bandana stack, I am embarking on the 50 BANDANAS TO FIT campaign. Here are the 10 commandments:


Bandana 1

 1. I will run or walk 3 days a week.
2. Separately, I will visit the gym 3 times a week.
3. I will have a bandana on my person for all of these instances. (hair, pocket, wrist, over my eyes depending on the workout).  :)
4. I will follow the menu plan laid out for my by the lovely Doctor B.
5. I will not step on the scale until I've worn 50 bandanas.
6. At the end of 50 bandanas, I will start the bandana pile over. And over, and over.
7. I will wash the bandanas.
8. I will post here about my progress at least 2 times a week. (I will also take a picture of every bandana day).
9. I will remember that I am human.
10. I will phone-a-friend as much as possible for togetherness bandana-ing.

 Based on the 10 commandments, at 6 bandanas/week, I should be doing my first Bandana weigh-in/fitness assessment around April 10th. Currently, I am 210 lbs (yes-I my laurels gained 10lbs).

I am now embarking on my first Bandana jog/waddle/walk/crawl.  It will only be around the block, but we all have to focus on the little things to make the great things happen, right.  (And our blocks are country blocks, not city blocks, BTW).

Day 1.  I'm a little sideways.

 I ask you, dear reader, to encourage me as I rake my shit back together into one pile and keep it there.  Join me if you wish. I'd love to have a bandana community.  Wear the same bandana 50 times!!  Make work-out wear out of banadanas-whatever it takes to leave the Dark Side behind. They can keep their effing cookies!  :)