I lost 5.4 pounds between the start of DrawDown and this Saturday’s “official” weigh in. As I hinted last week, it’s not like the mythic days of pre-cancerous old, when I would magically drop the equivalent of a cocker spaniel. Still, I’m excited.
That said, I have to come clean about something decidedly less good-newsy. I didn’t go to the gym this week. Not twice, as was my goal. Not even once. 😐
Hey… I thought about going to the gym… sort of. I mean, I took workout clothes to my studio, which is near the gym. Unfortunately, I left them folded on a shelf, where they presumably sit at this very moment.
While out with a big group of people on Friday night, I did announce my intention to start lifting. That’s something, right? Public shame is a powerful motivator (as I have found on those days when I didn’t feel like posting a drawing). Perhaps therein lies my salvation. I am setting the same goal for this week— work out at the gym twice— and one of my friends from the aforementioned group has promised to check up on me.
So what did I do that WAS good? Am I already off the wagon on an eleven-day-old project? Well first off, I made drawings. And I posted drawings. W00t.
Secondly, I’m doing pretty well with the non-gym aspects of being healthy. I packed balanced lunches and walked several dozen miles and congratulated myself when congratulations were due. And that’s what this is really about: drawing my life up in a way that’s actually, you know, sustainable. Earlier this week, I was describing the DrawDown Project to one of my fellow graduate students, and she said, “So are you on a diet?” Except type doesn’t do the question justice. Imagine it with inflection along the lines of, “So, are you joining a cult?”
The answer is an emphatic no. I’m not on a diet. I’m also not joining a cult, which, let’s face it, is essentially what dieting becomes for me. Diet Del quickly devolves into a calorie counting, secret eating, self-loathing shell of humanity. All I think about is food. I crouch rat-like in kitchen corners furtively nibbling saltines because the cupboards of a cult dieter are otherwise scoured free. Afterward, I beat my mental self bloody for the lack of self-control that added 150 calories to my precious daily count.
When middle-of-the-night cracker attacks are not enough, I lose it completely and binge: candy wrappers and pizza boxes litter my apartment like confetti; butter lurks on my breath. And don’t get me started on the food fantasies. My head is an x-rated space where melted cheese is concerned anyway, but on a diet? Hey, you think you’ve got it bad with your crush on that guy/girl/beast from Game of Thrones? Pfft, trust me, not a one is sexier than a bubbling pot of Gruyère. Oh baby. Yes! Nobody does it for me like you.
Woo… gotta pull back from the dark place! The point is, DrawDown is about coming back to myself in a range of ways. If this project manifests in richer artmaking, wonderful. If it shows up as genuine self-acceptance, peachy. If I lose the muffin top, well that’s just (pardon the euphemism) gravy. The habits I’m trying to instill should do all of those things. However, only time will tell.