macguffolutions

Less than a month and I have reinvented myself in two of the most stereotypical ways: weight loss and New Years "macguffolutions."

Believe me, I'm rolling my eyes with you.

I have never been one for resolutions. I scoff when people say they're going to drop 100 pounds on January 1st, because they will naturally be the same weight on December 31st and making another weight loss promise to themselves for the next year (full disclosure: I'm the guy who used to eat pizza and watch My 600 Pound Life in grad school with my best friend Rachel, all while saying, "That ain't gonna be us, girl." And then I gained 100 pounds). 

I've been of the opinion that when you set resolutions, you're setting yourself up for failure because - at some point - you're just going to slip up and disappoint yourself and everyone else who knows about said resolution(s). I don't know where this attitude comes from because, in reality, all we ever do in life is set goals and try to attain them. What makes it different when it's stated outright at the start of a fresh new year? And why does it seem like it is less attainable than any other time of the year? Blame it on cynicism or pessimism or New Years Resolution burnout, but it definitely seems different than other times of the year - like the stakes are higher, somehow.

Well, it's the end of 2015 and a blog that's all about making resolutions. Most of the macguffins I have posted thus far are fairly long-term with no true measurable end (with the exception of weight loss, perhaps). It's time to change that, I think. These have a definitive start and end date, so I'm going to have to really focus on these in order to succeed.

Challenge accepted. Here are five macguffins for 2016.

262

It's been a little over a week since I wrote about mine and Craig's next journey of pursuing a better and more fulfilling approach to our physical health and I have to say, I am feeling very motivated! As of Friday night, I am already down 10 pounds.

Don't get me wrong: I know that 10 pounds is a lot of weight to lose over a seven day period. I know that I won't lose 10 pounds this week (regardless of the holidays - more on that later). And I know that eventually I will hit a plateau and I will need to really up the ante on exercising. But despite that reality, I am really glad that I am one week in and feeling good.

So what's improved? My outlook, most of all. I was not feeling super optimistic about the HMR program last week. I felt like it was going to make me resent food and turn me into one of "those" people who are always worried about calories. I was worried that the food was going to be terrible, that I was going to be sick of drinking three shakes a day, and that I was going to constantly think about what I wasn't eating. But here's the deal: the meals HMR provides are actually, on the whole, pretty delicious! Some of them require some Frank's Hot Sauce (this is nothing new for me when it comes to any type of food, though), but most of them are pretty delightful right out of the microwave. Overall, I am feeling really positive. 

4 Years

It's the strangest feeling, writing again. Sort of like coming home in the you can't go home again way. None of it feels the same. Sure, it may smell the same and look the same, but something is different. Somehow, you're not the same. Maybe you're a little less angsty, a little more cynical, and a lot more sarcastic. You don't know everything anything, apparently. You've broken every promise you made to yourself: you've neglected to dream , you've forgotten to imagine, you've failed to create, and you've settled for reality. 

You don't belong here quite like you did before.

The blinking of the cursor on the screen is like seeing an old friend you haven't spoken to or thought of in years. You're welcome and the friend's welcome, but something is different; something has changed. It's familiar, to be sure. Comfortable? Not like it used to be. Easy? No. No, definitely not easy. Heartbreaking? You bet. 

Somehow, writing has become one bad simile after another.

273

Let's get the elephant in the room out of the way: Standing six feet tall and weighing in at 273 pounds, I am officially at my fattest ever. I know what you would say to me if I said that to your face. "You're not fat, Ryan! Don't say that about yourself!" C'mon, let's not be delusional - I'm 'uuuuuuuge.

Believe me, I'm fat. And I'm not sad to admit it. Admitting it means I am acknowledging it. Acknowledging it means I am ready to change it. Changing it means that I am taking steps toward improving my physical wellbeing. Accepting that I am fat is better than avoiding it altogether.

Hitting rock bottom is hard. Hitting rock bottom for a second time is even harder.  It's difficult to fathom that I was 73 pounds lighter when I first started grad school, and nearly 100 pounds lighter when I was starting my last two years of undergrad. Sure, 100 pounds ago I was a pretty terrible, vapid, and mean spirited human being who loitered around dating apps, frequented gay bars, went out on dates with men just to get a free meal, and dropped one conquest and pursued another with little more than a "thanks for the memories, talk to you never" text to separate them. I had a lot of work to do in terms of emotional maturity and not being a menace to the dating pool, but I was more or less physically healthy. And while I don't miss who I was emotionally, I do miss who I was physically.

Will the Next Macguffin, Please Stand Up?

What am I doing?

I'm nearly 27 years old. I've been married for six months. I am a recent graduate of a Master's program in Communication. I have a full time job (with "benefits"). I have a 401(k) plan because everybody told me I should have one. I probably take my cat parenting responsibilities a little too seriously. I paid my first student loan bill. My metabolism is suddenly moving at glacial speeds. I don't drink $5 wine (or moscato) anymore. I'm more than likely lactose intolerant and winning the battle like any normal person by refusing to acknowledge it. I start blogs posts like a Plenty o' Fish bio.

Is Plenty o' Fish even a thing anymore? Full disclosure: my knowledge of Millennial dating websites is over 4 years old at this point, so...

Anyway, real talk: I'm showing serious symptoms of "adulting," which I promised myself I wouldn't do a long time ago. Alas, I somehow became an adult, but I clearly have no idea what I'm doing. Don't get me wrong, I am functioning at cellular and sometimes (but not often) social levels, but using that as a standard for comparison sets the bar only slightly above Trump's current qualifications for presidency.