A question of motivation...

So how does it happen? How does someone who's been chubby his whole life suddenly decide it's time for major change,and most importantly, how the hell am I supposed to stay motivated?

The overlying reason is simple: to look the best I've ever looked for the wedding. Granted, Megan loves me the way I am, but I'd rather look a little more svelte rather than have the "Jabba with Princess Leia" thing going on under the chupa.

But a lot can happen in ten months. My life is being pulled in different directions right now. I've started taking grad classes as I work toward becoming a teacher, the holidays and their wonderful turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie are just around the corner, and the life of a reporter never seems to slow down.

I'm going to need smaller goals along the way if I'm to prove successful. The trick is deciding how.

Two weeks into the Great Wedding Fast, my motivation has been easy: watch the numbers on the scale go down. Truthfully, it hasn't been all that difficult so far. Part of me relishes the idea of jumping into a big Strega Nona vat of pasta and eating my way out, but most of me has found this whole Weight Watchers business a little easy.

Tomorrow is Thursday, which means it's time to weigh in again. I feel a little like a boxer or wrestler (not the oiled up, long-haired, roided out ones) trying to make weight. I'm pretty confident that my cumulative weight loss in two weeks has been in the double digits, but it's supposed to be simple at this point.

Soon the pounds are going to be harder to shed. Once the water weight is gone, I'm going to have to work harder. Less weight means less points too, so I'll have to cut my calories even more if I want to reach the super 60 I've promised myself.

Two years ago, Israel proved the perfect motivation. I don't know what came over me, but there were days when I'd spend 90 minutes at the gym, stepping on the Stairmaster more rapidly than any plushy man in history. The totals were impressive: 900 calories burned one workout, 980 the next, 1020, even 1130. I took quiet pleasure in the failure of skinny people to keep up with me. My proudest moment came when a woman next to me, at least 140 pounds lighter than I was, watched me go for about 45 minutes, saw the number of calories I had burned, looked at me, smiled, and said, "damn!"

Of course, the workout would be ruined the minute I got home and scooped a bowl full of ice cream. Edy's and its Fudge Tracks can go straight to hell.

I need more "damn" moments. That being stated, here's some goals to accompany the wedding target.

1. To be down 30 pounds by New Year's Eve.

2. To see looks of amazement/shock every time I see family or friends I haven't seen in a while.

3. To need to buy new pants for other reasons than getting newspaper ink on them or splitting the seams.

4. To no longer being described as "kind of a big guy" or "on the larger side" to people who haven't met me.

5. To go shirtless on a beach for the first time since the 1990s (sad, but true).

6. To not feel like I'm blocking the sun from everyone else at the beach.

7. To look at a box of Munchkins without romanticizing about sticking them in my cheeks like a chipmunk eating acorns.

8. To go for a physical and not have to worry about the nurse adjusting the scale up another 50 pounds.

9. To get on an airplane, crowded bus, or elevator and not feel like the people next to me are uncomfortable.

10. To not have to worry whether a red shirt makes me look like Kool Aid Man or a purple shirt like Grimace.

Ten seems like a good number. Let's start crossing them off.


PS: I welcome whatever feedback you all might have about this challenge. Hell, it is a blog...