I’m mad today.
Surprise, surprise.
You might think that I’m angry at all the impressionable young TikTokers out there who are reading Osama bin Laden’s Letter to America and siding with bin Laden.
Congratulations, it took 22 years, but the terrorists have finally won.
This fact is causing me profound fury, naturally. Maybe 9/11 was a you-had-to-be-there sort of thing, because some of these Gen Z kids I’m seeing on the videos weren’t even born yet. That means they don’t know what it’s like to stand on a Chicago roof deck, staring up at the clear blue sky of what was otherwise a perfect September day, watching F-15s circle the city, wondering if the Sears Tower is somehow going to be next.
I can’t even wrap my mind around how profoundly fucked up their POV is, so I’m not going to address it.
Instead, what I’m mad about is incredibly petty and it’s an opportunity I ruined because I can’t dial back my own spite or need to be right.
Surprise, surprise.
For those who’ve read my books, you’re likely aware that my weight has been an up and down thing for literal decades. I’ll work really hard at addressing it, and then life will get in the way and I’ll undo my progress. The thing is, I’ve always been able to address it. I understand what combination of diet and exercise works for me and one day, it will be like a gear has shifted into overdrive and I’ll get after it again. My whole life, I’ve known that I’m capable of making a change and it’s just a matter of commitment and diligence, and this motivation comes in cycles. Over the years, I’ve taken a hard look at my issues. I’ve done the work and ultimately have come to peace with most of it. Now it’s less about emotions and more about actions.
My biggest loss was just under 100 pounds, which took almost two years from 2014-2016. I plateaued at this loss and not for lack of trying. There was a point I was putting in 20 hours/week at the gym, strictly managing my diet, and consulting with an endocrinologist, who’d deemed me fine. I felt great, but I wasn’t getting any smaller and that was frustrating. Then, in 2018 I messed up my one good knee by falling at Whole Foods. (Stupid story, largely their fault, I didn’t realize it should have been a lawsuit, the end.)
Two bad knees slowed me down, but I did my best to keep up with my fitness. Then Brett, my personal trainer who was like the little brother Fletch and I never had, moved to New Zealand to live a #vanlife. Without the accountability I’d had, good habits started slipping. Brett came back a year and a half later and he started training Fletch and me again. Then the pandemic hit and life turned into airport rules, 24/7… and I didn’t mind one bit. I figured, I’m not getting through this without carbs and then I’ll get after it again when it’s over. I know how. Except this time when I tried to get after it things changed.
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