I'll Have To Pencil That Into My Schedule (Or: 'Tis Only a Flesh Wound!)

My life has officially turned upside down.

On Tuesday, I head out to (another) training set for my position, until the tenth, at which point I'll be driving with my co-workers and director out to the site where I'll be working for the next eleven months. A few days later, a couple of friends will be helping me get everything moved from place to place. Which means that I have to get my life packed into neat little boxes in the next three days -- complete with packing popcorn, bubble wrap, and the occasional crunch of something fragile being murdered by its fellows within the depths of the cardboard.

It used to be that when times like this would come along, my attempts at losing weight would be the first inevitable thing to go. When I was writing my Master's thesis, I would barely emerge from my room for days at a time, only coming out when Katie or Tasha decided to drag me by the feet -- or else when sanity threatened to pack up and leave for the Bahamas. "I have to get this done," I'd say, "I don't have time for anything else. My future is on the line here. If I don't finish this, I don't get my degree."

I can't even count the number of times I used those words to excuse myself from nearly everything, especially my weight-loss. This was why I passed up the T'ai chi class. Going on daily walks. Going to the gym. My friends started to believe that I was a vampire -- and I don't mean the kind that glitters in sunlight.

And, inevitably, the chairs in the food court started being more uncomfortable. I wasn't able to sleep as well on the mattress (don't you hate it when you can't lie down without some extremity becoming hopelessly numb? I'd lie down, my leg would go numb. So I'd turn over, and the same leg would go numb. I never did figure out the logic of this.) This gradual upturn due to my "Master's-thesis stress" was what eventually led my weight to top out at the highest number I had ever seen on the scale.

Now, faced with a similar situation (though if packing takes a few more months, I'm really behind schedule), I realize that my future is on the line. But the worst-case scenario for if I don't slim down and become healthy is a lot worse (and a lot more permanent) than if I don't get these boxes packed. It was a lot more important than graduating on time. It's been a lot more important than all of these silly things I've been putting in front of my own health all my life.

In short, nothing is more important than my health.

Nothing.

I didn't abuse my italics key for nothing. See, I get the feeling that we all do this. I do. My sister does. My mother does. My friends do. And I can tell, because when I put losing weight off in order to prioritize something else, you know what they say? "It's okay, it's understandable. We've all been there." Well, maybe it is understandable. But ladies (and gentlemen), that doesn't make it acceptable!

It's sort of like that scene in Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail with the black knight. For those of you who haven't indulged in British nonsensical comedy, King Arthur is traveling with his men through the forest, and he comes across a knight clad in black armor, who challenges him to a duel. Arthur kicks his ass (I think literally at one point.) He slices off first one arm (this has such intentionally horrible effects that it can't possibly be interpreted as gory.) The black knight picks up his sword in his other hand and shouts " 'tis only a flesh wound!" Then the other arm goes. So the knight shouts a challenge at a bewildered Arthur and begins to head-butt him, charging forward. Eventually, Arthur walks away from the helmet (head inside) of the knight, who is still shouting at the king's back.

See? I told you it was nonsensical. (And probably on YouTube, for anyone who dares to look.) And I really never thought I would ever compare weight loss to Monty Python, of all things. But come on! We're sort of like the stupid Black Knight. We charge forward, ignoring our own health, until time and poor health gradually kick our asses. And as each round we ignore it draws to a close, it becomes progressively harder to win. All the time, we're belligerently ignoring our fate, shouting "it's not that bad! I'll handle it later! 'Tis only a flesh wound!"

Heh. Let's stop kidding ourselves.

There is never a better time to start (or keep up the work) than right now. The longer we put it off, the worse it gets, and the steeper the mountain goes. So instead of pretending there's nothing wrong or that we don't have time, let's be realistic. Let's reattach our limbs, dust ourselves off, and get to the real fight.

...I never said it was a perfect metaphor.