Yesterday I wrote the NPPA, or National Professional Practice Assessment. This is a test for HR people to determine if they have the judgment and skills necessary to be Certified HR Professionals, or CHRPs. I feel like I passed it, but with multiple choice, I’m never really sure.

But in keeping with my recent themes, that’s not really what I’m here to talk about. 

Friday and Saturday I returned to my old eating habits, very, very quickly. I was eating whatever I could get my hands on that would be tasty and wonderful and satisfy my stress of having a huge test tomorrow that I’d dropped a lot of money to write. In ways I expected this, but I was also amazed at how quickly I dropped back into those bad eating habits. I thought those were behind me, they were dead and gone.

But no. They’re not. Just below the surface, they lurk.

That’s not the end of the world, though. Cause I felt generally crappy, physically on Friday and pretty horrible on Saturday. I actually thought to myself “I used to eat like this?” Because really, Saturday would have been a perfectly normal day for me a few months ago. Fried foods and crap in general. I felt horrible; I had a stomach ache, a head ache and just could not do anything. I came home, mumbled a few words to my parents and collapsed in bed.

Today I’m worried. As of this Monday I was 1/4 of the way to my weight loss goal, down almost 14 pounds. Now? I may have gained 1 or 2 back and part of me wants to freak out at that. I won’t, though, because I learned something great yesterday.

As much as old eating habits can come back, I’m already at the point where they don’t come back as easily and I can recognize how bad they are. In ways, it’s not always about whether or not you have an unhealthy meal, or an unhealthy day. There may be set backs, you may have trouble, but really, it’s about what you do before and after that counts. I had been good for most of the week leading up to Friday and Saturday.

And today, I had a healthy breakfast and I’m going to yoga.

I am the Tallahassee* of habit-fighting.

* That’s a Zombieland reference. If you haven’t seen it, go see it. NOW.

I’m down 10 pounds. It’s kind of a magic number, 10. It sounds nice and even. My nutritionist called it a “decade,” which makes it sound kind of fun and epic. 

For women, I believe it’s a size. For men…not sure. Maybe a waist size? 2 inches off the waist maybe? My pants are fitting distinctly looser, which is nice. I will need new belts soon, and probably new pants as well. Cause, you know, I definitely needed more expenses. Though in this case I think I’m okay with that.

This isn’t the lowest or thinnest I’ve been ever. But it is the lowest I’ve been in…probably 2 years or so. Another 10 pounds and I’ll be the lowest I’ve been since university. 

Shit’s getting real.

The change is, in ways, a little scary. I am definitely making sacrifices. Well, that sounds too epic, really. Making different food choices or holding off in some ways is not really a huge sacrifice. But it is a really big life style change for me. And the stakes are high.

This is the first time I’ve consistently lost weight in years, particularly without intense exercise. In ways that’s the bigger deal. I don’t wanna fuck this up. I want to do this and do this right until it becomes second nature.

I feel like I want to do this til I can relax, but that doesn’t really work, does it? Diets are only good for temporary weight loss. Without a serious change to eating habits you just go right back to the way you were. And what’s the point in that?

I think that’s what scares me, too. Just becoming another weight loss statistic, one of the 80% (statistic is an estimate) of people who lose weight, only to gain it back after, or gain back more. I can’t let myself be that guy. I have to do better.

Weigh in again tomorrow. While I haven’t been perfect this weekend, I’ve been pretty good. We’ll see.

After a bit of a gain from Easter, my weight loss has gotten back on the right track. I’ve been eating better, and generally feeling better, although still, occasionally, a bit hungry. Really I can’t expect not to. I am noticing a lot of little moments, where I would have eaten something without thinking, where I now stop and usually, don’t eat.

I’m also noticing my life has not suddenly changed for the better.

So in response to that I’ve been going harder. Not just in nutrition, but in everything in life. Every minute is prescribed for some task or meeting, nearly every moment is used for some kind of money-making venture. I’m super busy and doing what society says I should be doing in my mid-20s.

And I’m bored.

And I’m frustrated.

Earlier today U2’s “Running To Stand Still” came on my iPhone, and I thought “Yup, that’s where I am.” It hit me very suddenly. I am doing exactly that. I’m running, but…I’m not really getting anywhere. I’m making money, yes. And some of what I’m doing is valuable experience.

But I’m competing against these ghosts of people with greater business acumen then I have, with the classmates who are making more than I am, with the ones who are married and have fancy condos and houses. I’m working harder for…what? I don’t really care about business, and I don’t think it really runs the world. People do, pure and simple, and I care about people. Money? Fuck it. If you gave me the choice between working an 80 hour week and earning double what I make now or working a 40 hour week and staying where I am, I’d pick stay where I am. Married with a condo?

K, you got me there, that, yeah, I want. But there are limits to how much of that I can do on my lonesome.

I used to think I could do a lot of this if I really wanted to, I just don’t want to. I built my entire identity around infinite ability.

We all like to think we’re special, and unique. And when we’re told we’re not, it’s framed in some kind of post-hippie, depressing, Chuck Palahniuk-style revelation.

I don’t think even Palahniuk meant it that way.

(Sidebar: Must watch Fight Club again soon).

When you start to realize that you aren’t unique, you aren’t special, it’s freeing. When you stop trying to compete with some ideal, to match up to the boy down the street, you can start figuring out what you really want to do, and maybe it’s something he can do, and maybe it isn’t. Competing just to be better is bullshit. Going and going just to go is ridiculous. You end having to run just to stand still.

So I’m stopping. I’m going to figure out where I want to go, and I’m going to go. But no more of this working for the sake of work. No more filling time just to fill time. And no more competition.

I am not a beautiful or unique snowflake.

On Thursday I met with the nutritionist. She’s very intense, very downtown core. I’m coming to find people who work in the downtown core seem to be cut from the same cloth. They’re fast, direct, cut and dry. Very business. While I enjoy working there for now, the more time I spend there, the more I wonder if that world is really where I want to be forever.

But that’s another post.

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