I. Facing My Face
First and foremost, there was a little girl in the class I subbed for Monday afternoon that drew a portrait of yours truly during reading time. The picture's actually fairly flattering, and I was encouraged to see the thinness of face borne by this friendly caricature of myself. For several hours, I optimistically contemplated how my overall body composition may have been improved by my recent return to an active workout program, as well as the increased physical movement that has come with working 5 days a week.
Sadly, this optimism was quickly curbed by the cold hard truth of a photograph. During our evening workout together, my good friend Aaron Homoya took my picture with his camera phone so that he would have a image to accompany the calls I made to his cell. Let me just say folks that this picture showed me to be borderline jowly. It is the one-two punch of my stocky body and ghostly pale skin color that has inspired the comparison between myself and the iconic seabeast of classical literature, Moby Dick.
Dave Scott has always been larger then the average bear. But when I tipped the scales at 275 lbs at one point this summer, I realized I was the heaviest I had ever been in my entire life. Even though this initial state of affairs first led me to feel a bit depressed, I quickly reminded myself that this was not, in fact, the worst shape I'd ever been in during my twenty-four years on this planet.
II. A Brief History of Fat
The Dave of today walks around with a respectable amount of lean tissue clinging to his bones. And because muscle weighs more than fat, I could still very well be in better shape than I was as a 245-lb college freshman. That incarnation of yours truly had not adjusted well to dormitory life and a potent combination of home sickness, near-suicidal pessimism, and excessive comfort eating made me quite squishy.
And I'm certainly more fit than the 11 to 12 year-old version of myself who grew pudgy during the 22 month marathon run of television watching I had used to distract myself from the recent loss of my parents.
So I suppose you could consider this the third "fat period" of my life. On the positive side of things, this fattiness seems to have little to no connection to depression or harsh changes in the personal sphere. On the negative side, however, I'm undeniably caught in a fat period and, as my metabolism continues to slow down with age, I can't help but wonder if this fall from the fitness wagon is for keeps. Just this past Saturday, a certain incident caused me to be literally embarrassed at my recent weight gain.
III. The Tightness of Pants and Its Probable Causes
Here's the incident in a nutshell: I mentioned in a previous post that I was searching for casual pants in the impossible size of 40W-34L. The pair of 40w-36L I have been wearing to work during the last two weeks have fit quite comfortably. If the legs weren't so long, they'd be a perfect fit. So I assumed that 40-34's would be the ideal fit for me right now. WRONG! On Friday, I receives two pairs of such pants I had ordered from the JC Penney webpage. When I tried them on the next day, it was obvious that even these large pants, these relaxed fit pants, were still a tad tight on me. (Susan informed me that my pockets were "gaping.") So there I was, I had just bought two pairs of "fat pants", and I am still too fat to wear them.
"What was it, Dave," you might ask, "that brought you to this looowly state?" Well, I should admit that I am always on the verge of my next period. My body's percentage of body fat tends to fluctuate with the academic calendar- at its lowest in about April and its highest in August. During the 05-06 school year, however, I just kept getting heavier from about November forward. The highest academic demands I've ever faced kept me from exercising as consistently as I should and then a knee injury in mid-January only exacerbated the problem. At graduation, I was about 162 lbs. Then the summer brought with it a great deal of physical inactivity as I searched for work. And, in the absence of any daily routine, my laziness regularly won out over my desire to pump the iron.
Now it is fall, and I am lifting weights three time a week. I have a daily routine and a workout partner to keep me accountable, so things are improving. Subtitute teaching has kept me from being sedentary for much of the day, which has helped "stop the bleeding" in terms of gaining further unhealthy pounds. Sadly, this is the first time in 6 years that I am without the cardiovascular benefits of walking all over a college campus. And, I begrudgingly admit, if I really want to slim down, I will have to incorporate some cardio into my weekly schedule. Meanwhile, the No. 1 demon to be slain is that evil imp Gluttony. My eating habits have never been great, and my body is reflecting that fact as much now as it ever has.
IV. Hopeful Conclusions and Anxious Motives
So the grounds for hope in the long-winded, self-indulgent report is that I am doing many of things I'll need to do to bring my weight down. I'm paying closer attention to what and how much I eat. I'm regularly pushing my body to burn calories with a consistent workout routine. And I've already seen some early gains in my quest for loss: this morning the scale read 268.
I think the reason the matter of excessive pounds is weighing so heavily on me right now has everything to do with the fact that I'm now back on the market, as they say. Like most other Americans, I'm worrying too much about my appearance as I reapproach the world of dating relationships. Of course I endorse the time-tested maxim that true beauty lies within, but I also know that potential buyers are unlikely to check out the gorgeous interior of a house if its exterior appears dilapidated or unkempt. You're likely to attract more flies with honey than blubber.
And on top of the dating concerns, there's simply the fact that my self-image will certainly improve alongside my body composition. I'd rather have the body type of the Hulk than that of Moby Dick. (Yes, I'd even prefer the Hulk's skin tone. Being green would mean having some color even if it's an unorthodox one.) In the vein of trying to classify my body type, I'll end this thing by sharing the comment a friend made to me a couple weeks ago.
"Dave, do you know who you remind me of?" my mildly inebriated friend asked. "From Lord of the Rings. What's it called? The Mountain Troll!"
"You mean the Cave Troll?" I replied.
"Yeah, that. Your build reminds me of the Cave Troll."
I guess that's not too bad. At least it's a more flattering characterization than a whale.
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