Day 88 The Morbidly Obese Brother From A Different Mother Of Tom Cruise

Day 88

The Morbidly Obese Brother From A Different Mother Of Tom Cruise

Lately I've run into several people that haven't laid eyes on me in a while, or very often. Out of five people in the last few days, four of them have mentioned the difference in my appearance. Three of them know nothing about this blog. It's most always a good thing, except when someone blurts out a negative right after giving a compliment. One of my sister in-laws complimented my weight loss today, then followed with “it's making you look older!” What! I don't want to look older! Hold on while I go eat a gallon of Blue Bell. I'm kidding. She then followed that with another compliment. “You've always looked so young!” Thank you sis, you found a way to make me feel great, then horrible, then great again in a span of twenty seconds. I'm really not bothered by it at all. I'm 37, and that's NOT old. I'm thirty-something. That's not old. Even if I were ten or fifteen years older, I still wouldn't be old. Perhaps losing weight will make me look my age, but in a handsome, Tom Cruise kinda way. The way I look at it? I'd rather look 37 and be thin and healthy, than look 29 and be dead. Love you Billie Sue! OK, maybe Tom Cruise looks is asking too much, I'll settle for Mathew Perry looks. Is he good looking? Geez, I hope so. You're going to think I've lost my mind, but I actually have Tom Cruise eyes and ears. Crazy, I know...but let me explain. I've had several people over the years, independent of each other, say that I have a slight resemblance to Mr. Cruise. Not in my body of course, but certain facial characteristics. I'm like the morbidly obese brother from a different mother of Tom Cruise. I would jump up and down on my couch, but I'm afraid I'll break it. I've always looked in the mirror and thought I could recognize potential, ya know? Ask Irene about this Tom Cruise facial feature resemblance thingy. We have the same eyes and our ears are minus lobes that hang down...They just connect to our faces. And we both have a lot of hair. Wishful thinking? Delusional? Perhaps, but I have no idea what I'll look like when I reach my goal. I've never been there as an adult. And that's a really fun thing to think about. I swear, if I end up looking like Ducky from Pretty In Pink, I'm gonna be upset! I guess I'll look like the best me I can be. And I'm totally cool with that. I'm going to go put on a bomber jacket now and give myself sexy looks in the mirror.

I enjoy the many ways of telling a difference in my body. It's so much more than the results every two weeks on the scale. It's clicking a seatbelt with complete ease. It's putting on a perfectly fitting shirt that I've never been able to wear. It's fitting into these Levi's 560's. It's getting in and out of Irene's little car without needing rescued. It's wrapping my right leg in bandages by myself. It's using the next hole in the belt. When I started this mission I had a brand new belt in the closet that wouldn't fit at all. It was completely impossible to fasten. Then, I don't know, maybe after the first month, I could wear it using the very last hole. Now, on Day 87, I'm using the fourth hole, and I can use the fifth, but it's a little tight. The belt only has seven holes. That's awesome! These are fun times indeed. The more I lose, the more I notice these things. Results on the scale are great, but the results I notice in everyday life really fire me up. Seventy-five pounds makes a huge difference. A friend of mine suggested that when I reach 80 pounds lost, I should go to Lowes and try to pick up a bag of concrete. Or maybe he just wanted me to look at it, I don't know. Deke? Do I try to pick it up? Or just look at it? I honestly don't know if I could pick it up. It'll be a nice visual of how much mass I've lost so far. When I reach my goal I'm going to go to the zoo and look at a baby elephant.

We ordered out for dinner tonight. Arby's Jr. Roast Beef sandwiches are really tasty, really cheap (on the 5 for $5.95 menu), and only 273 calories. We even picked up french fries from McDonald's. A small order is only 230 calories. I had enough calories for ketchup, but I opted for mustard with my fries. I like mustard and if I can save 50 calories by using mustard, then I usually do. This isn't the first time I've had those world famous fries on this journey. It was probably the third or fourth time. I guess I can't call this “The Amazing McDonald's French Fry Diet” just yet. But it's what I love about calorie counting. I don't have to feel deprived. As long as I educate myself on the calorie content of what I want, then make choices that fit comfortably within my daily calorie allotment, I'm all good. Eating slower and smaller portions are critical. I use to easily polish off a “Super Sized” order of those fries, then steal my daughters leftovers. Now I occasionally enjoy a small order, and I'm completely satisfied. I still get the taste and pleasure that McDonald's fries provide without one ounce of guilt. Maybe I could become the “Jared” of McDonald's. I could just make sure to eat a small order of fries everyday, then send out a press release when I reach my goal weight proclaiming my McFry assisted victory! I could get a photo op with the Fry Guys I'm sure. Do the Fry Guys still exist in Ronald McDonald Land? Someone get Mayor McCheese on the phone!

I do know one thing, I'm a little goofy tonight. But I feel really good. Thank you for reading and providing your support. I write this blog every night because it keeps me accountable, it keeps me honest, and it forces me to study my past and present behaviors. It really has given me a better understanding of how I reached 505 lbs in the first place, and that knowledge is helping me get my life back one day at a time. When someone tells me that they read this blog everyday and they enjoy it, well, that's just the icing on the cake. When I hear someone say that my journey has inspired them on their journey, well...that feeling doesn't have words. Thank you. Good night and...

Good Choices,
Sean