Brave New World

I don't eat well. I eat what tastes good, but rarely do I find a synthesis between good taste and what's good for me. And I should. Been saying that for a while. In fact, about two months ago I posted a proclamation on my old blog which included the words South Beach -- and I wasn't writing about a vacation to Miami.

Sometime in the resolution inducing haze of New Year's, my roommate Erik and I had decided that dieting was worth a try. Famous last words, right? How many diets are picked up at New Year's like goldfish at the pet store, only to be slowly neglected over the next few weeks until one day it goes belly up. You feel guilty for a short while and then you vow to do better next time and it's back to the store. Poor, poor, belly-up diets.

I've only been striving to change two decades worth of bad eating habits since sometime in college, but I was convinced, this year was going to different.

I was set. I was pumped. I was five minutes from heading to the grocery and actually stopping in the produce aisle to buy something. Usually when I stop anywhere near a vegetable, it's because I'm with Mary. But, as I said before -- pumped. Mid-February was gonna be a time for change and renewal and well -- well, it was going to be amazing and end with me eating better and being healthier.

And then a not so amazing thing happened. I procrastinated. Each week I came up with a new excuse not to find the time to begin this quest to fit into my old suits. First it was moving. Then it was the Oscar party. Then Kentucky. Then my birthday. Chicago. I didn't want to be on some diet during all these events -- and so I would put it off and Erik would too (I guess because I had). And if it wasn't planning ahead so I'd have the ability to gorge myself at whichever function I'd be attending, I'd be too busy to hit Meijer, too tired to download the food lists, too lazy to ---

There are a million reasons not to do something.

Then, just about two weeks ago, I turned twenty-seven, which, if you hadn't noticed from the parade of less than giddy posts, has brought me to an unbelievably introspective place and left me with this desire to find my true path and words, words, words, basically get through what can only be described as a quarter-life crisis in the making.

That was a truly spectacular sentence.

So, after much thought and consideration and reminding myself of so many resolutions that have dusted over, I decided to lose a little weight and eat better. To do this, I'm finally joining the followers of the South Beach diet. After all, how hard could it be to cut out carbs for a couple of weeks (dear God, take me now).

Okay, I know what you're thinking - "Sony, you don't NEED to diet" - and yes, that's somewhat true. The truth is I don't need to lose weight like those people on The Biggest Loser need to lose weight (though getting back to a 34 waist would be sweet), but I do need to eat healthier and exercise. To help with that (since I have no willpower whatsoever when it comes to things like Hershey Sundae Pies), and because it's working for lots of people I know, I thought I'd try South Beach to get closer to my college weight and then, here's a twist, MAINTAIN it. Plus, if I'm cutting out things that are bad for me, that's a good, right?

Basically, the metabolism -- it's slowing down (has been for a few years now) and while I am only 27, one day I'll be 54, and I'd like to not have a gut full of visceral fat that's going to end me at 55. I have to face facts. I'm obscenely lazy. I sit all day at a cubicle where each morning the snack fairy has left another goody (this morning, it was a Rice Krispy Treat - and I'm not even kidding...well, she's not a REAL fairy, she's just the contracts specialist; but she does leave treats on everyone's desk everyday). And worst of all, I don't eat anything that isn't made of meat, potatoes, bread, milk, or cake, and if I do eat something that is green or (gasp) has an antioxidant contained within (sometimes -- zut alors! -- antioxidants, plural), I will try my best to coat it in Ranch dressing. Me and veggies just haven't ever been that tight, you know?

Erik's doing this South Beach diet too, by the by, so if we seem tense or irritable more than usual, it's probably the withdrawal we'll be going through from our normal intake of sugar, greasy foods, and other enjoyable, yet ultimately artery clogging, meals (goodbye Hawaiian pizza, I will remember you fondly).

I hear the first two weeks are the absolute worst (sorry, John, you might end up the victim in all of this). I'd appreciate your support in this endeavor (i.e. don't be the devil and bring me food I cannot have -- that's just cruel and I will content myself with the fact that people who do that will one day get their comeuppance).

As I've sat and pondered the universe and my place in the vast existence we call life, I've wondered about my future and my career goals and just about everything else you can wonder about. I've looked for certainty in this thing we call reality and while I've accepted that things change and life happens and that I can't have everything planned out -- I can be certain of this: I want to be around awhile.

I want to look back when I'm one-hundred and eight years old (hello, 2087!) and smile a wrinkly old grin because that means that at twenty-seven I really was only a quarter of the way through the game instead of being closer to a third or even half-way.

So for once I'm sticking to a resolution. Starting a bit later than planned, yes, but then why use the first day of a random year as some arbitrary date to renew everything in our lives? Today works just as well. So did yesterday. There are many things in life that many of my friends say they want to change. This is one of mine.

Feels like I just stood up at some support group meeting and gave a speech. Hi, my name is Sony, and I'm an unhealthy eater. Hopefully, from here on out, that will no longer be true.