Body-for-Life Halfway Mark or How Topics for Discussion Change

Sep 14, 2011

At the half-way mark in my 12-week Body-for-Life exercise regimen, it suddenly occurs to me that, for better-or-worse, the topics of my conversation with everyone has changed. When I was learning to fly, aviation was always up for discussion. In my scuba days, drinking was all we talked about (and occasionally sharks and shipwrecks; you see, I belonged to a drinking club with a diving problem). Since bariatric surgery, it has become inevitable that people ask after my health. It is typical, topical and quite simply a decent thing to do. The transformation in my appearance has also drawn attention from a few people who hadn't seen me since before the op. One of my neighbours whom I bumped into wasn't too sure but no sooner did her dog growl at me than she recognized who I was and we immediately got on with our old favourite topic of...you guessed it, discrediting our building manager and the condo strata committee. In the middle of lamenting our unkempt garden and unsightly litter, she suddenly changed gears with, "Have you lost a lot of weight, I mean, a lot?" It was a spontaneous comment which she instantly realised might be discourteous--you could see the machinery turning-- then relaxed because it is always a compliment to recognise weightloss but an insult to draw attention otherwise. Oh yes, we fat people are touchy; we're sensitive to the point of tears but fiercely defensive about our right to gorge ourself to death.

I dare say I'm culpable and invite the discussion. There are very few people who don't like talking about their successes. That is balanced by equally many who fixate on their failures ad-nauseum as if that would fix them. Have you ever met an adult who craves attention like a child? They tug at your pants looking for an excuse to complain. We're all looking for empathy, I guess. In my case, I couch my self-absoption as philanthropy whilst simultaneously soaking it in. Some good does rub off as I think I've inspired more than a few people with my story, have dispensed advice tirelessly following my experience and even proactively engaged a few people to do something about their health. I never advocate a surgical solution for my obese friends, but those who recognise the need for it and ask me for advice get it in abundance.

Nowadays, my typical topic of discussion with most people is fitness and weightloss. I welcome it and relish when my friends tell me of their achievements. An online scrabble buddy who lives in Thailand and whom I have only chatted with on Skype tells me of his 15 kg loss from running. That is like music to my ears. Another here in Surrey, a recent mom mentions a pants that fits again. You go, girl! My old South African friend now in Australia regales me with tale of his re-discovered squash prowess. It hearkens back to an era when we both played hard but lived decadently. I beam for him. But there's a dark side too. I cringe when my good friend with a string of maladies won't do the obvious thing because, by his own admission, it will forever curtail his submission to the temptations of good (bad?) food and drink.

Of late, I have begun declining invitations to social outings that only involve food consumption. I'll go to them if they don't interfere with my first priority, my ability to train that day. I'm not inflexible and will happily go to the gym late at night if necessary, but then the outing earlier must not be a pub outing that requires alcohol consumption. I'm also starting to become a tad insufferable. If I can't make a social event for whatever reason, like a perfectly normal schedule conflict, I'm quick to propose an alternative that includes a fitness component, like a walk or tennis game. As those alternatives meet resistance because of the fitness component, I'm starting to seek new companionship. Luckily for me, my wife has started hitting the gym too which has given us a whole new topic for discussion.

Another positive spin-off from my time in the gym is befriending new people with a similar interest in longevity. I've discovered that not every gym rat comes from a long line of athletic genes. In fact, many were insecure, tired of being too fat, too scrawny, too ill and too bullied. When I'm in the weightroom, I'm the only geek in there with a folder in which I log my effort level after each set of reps. Of course, there are always one-or-two with a trainer who is doing exactly the same thing for them. I use my notes to prepare for my next session; add 5 more lbs to the second set of 10 because the effort level was a 5 when it should have been a 6. Drop 10 lbs from that last set of 6; overly ambitious admirably but compromising posture and not exercising the relevant muscle; who are you kidding? Curiously, nobody snickers, not even the heavy-necklaced drug dealers-cum-cage-fighters. The other morning, I got to the gym really early, just after 06h00 and discovered that that is when the local teachers work out. There are two schools adjacent the public recreation centre. How convenient. One fellow commented very positively about my following a structured programme. Between sets, we exchanged ideas. Another chap that I met in the sauna is making a long overdue return to the gym. He hasn't hit the weightroom or pool yet but is biding his time before he makes his move. He warmed not only to the dry heat but also to my story and now can't wait to start training again. Guess what? He has three businesses and is looking to change his accountant. At last I'm networking with the fit set.

Anyway, I told you all of that to tell you this...

When my aforementioned buddy from Thailand told me that he had lost 15 kg, he made the fatal mistake of asking how I'm doing. That is never a one-line-answer question for me. I told him:

"I'm sticking to my fitness programme despite a stall in weightloss, all the time consoling myself that the inertia of the scale is proportional to my muscle gain. The absence of noticeable definition on my frame is because any improvement has been masked by loose, flabby skin. That said, even if I lift a cup to my mouth or try to stand up from the couch, I feel myself tensing chest and arm, and leg muscles, respectively that I swear weren't there 6 weeks ago. My wife, gave me a most-welcome, backhanded compliment the other day. I was showing her my new-and-improved bicep and she said, "Oh my gawd, if it's only been 5 weeks and that has happened, you're going to look like that freak Arnold." I had to grin. Of course, she doesn't appreciate the number of years of training and the volume of pills and hypodermic needles that went into those guys' torsos.

"I'm content to be pushing myself to a level about two notches shy of maximum output in order to avoid injury, alternating weight training with laps in the pool six days a week. I also alternate upper and lower body workouts so, over three weight training sessions in any given week I'll have two days working one half and one day the other, then it'll switch around the next week. That affords ample time for the exercised muscles to recuperate while my body overall still benefits from daily exercise.

"I continue to shrink which is gratifying when the scale doesn't flatter me. I'm down to the last of my suits and the last of three 'newish' slacks that I had outgrown no sooner had I bought them years ago. The 6-month honeymoon period post-op of massive weightloss from doing nothing is a distant--albeit, cherished--memory. From now on it's down to hard work like anybody else, sticking to a high-protein diet and just being grateful for a small, non-stretchable stomach that won't accommodate what my eyes perceive it can."

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