I didn't really set out to lose weight on this deployment. In fact, I rarely lose weight in the desert, the exception to that rule being the '04 Iraq trip wherein I lost 15 pounds in three months.
But I downloaded an app for my iPod called "Lose It!" which is basically just a calorie counter. It also tracks nutritional information, which was more important to me than just calories. I wanted to account for what I put into my body--the good, the bad, and the high fructose corn disgustingness. I didn't really care about weight loss.
Everything was going well until about two months ago when I randomly stepped on a scale at the gym and noticed that I'd lost eight pounds. I know weight is really just a number and the whole deal about how muscle weighs more than fat, but I have to be honest that it felt really good to see that number drop. From then on, I started paying even more attention to my diet and workout routine.
Since then, I've lost another eight pounds, which puts me at 153 as of today. I've made a goal of getting below 150 before I leave here, but here's the kicker: I don't really want to lose any more weight.
When I take off my shirt and look in the mirror, I can hear my Mom's voice saying, "Oh, my stars! You're so skinny!" And that voice is right. I'm gaunt and emaciated. I'm the guy in the 60s beach party film that gets sand kicked on him. I'm McLovin.
Still, I'm desperate to see that scale tip at 149. I can't explain it; it's just something I want to prove to myself I can do. Every morning when I put on my pants and I have to cinch my belt tighter and tighter, I feel like a success. I prefer to think of it as an infatuation rather than an obsession, as I still indulge in the occasional soy macchiato or bagel with cream cheese. Still, it's easy to understand how people freak out over that stupid little number on their scale.
I know after I get back to Italy, I'll devour enough pasta and cheesecake to feed Liechtenstein, and I'll eventually get back to my normal weight. I just want to take this opportunity to see if I have the will power to resist shoving junk food down my throat. Let me wallow in my self-absorbed haze of Jarvis Cocker delineation, and things will get back to normal soon enough.