Of Resolutions and Whiskey

Once upon a time I set a goal for myself. That goal was to bring my weight down to 200 lbs.

I have yet to reach this goal.

I am not one to submit myself to the falsely noble new year’s resolution. I find that resolving to accomplish something in the new year loses its appeal when the new year feels less fresh. I like to set goals, and sometimes I am successful with them. Other times I struggle.

My weight is such a goal that has led to many years of intense struggling. I have the means, I know the methods. I simply find myself edging back toward the great abyss of sugar and empty calories. I have developed quite a relationship with these calories over the 30 plus years of my life. It is an abusive relationship, however, in that I reach out for them when I find myself becoming depressed or disappointed. They comfort me for mere seconds, and then I am left with a cold emptiness in the pit of my stomach that is somewhere between guilt and confusion. Over time repeating this process, I gain weight. I have lost it and gained it back and then lost it and gained it back again. It is a cycle, and it is tiring.

I have set a new goal for this year, to be completed by the 31st of December, 2014. My goal is to be able to enjoy an especially fine bottle of scotch. Not the whole thing at once, of course. Just a serving. In order to receive this reward, I must get myself to my goal weight of 200 lbs. This will be difficult because as of the last time I looked, I was in the 270s range. This means losing somewhere from 70-80 lbs in one year. Thus, about 6 pounds in a month, nearly 2 a week. This is not impossible, but I must fight with every inch of my being to avoid falling into traps that I have laid in my own mind. I must avoid the self abuse patterns that I tend to travel in.

I know that I can reach this goal. But I have to want to reach it more than I want to console myself with food. It will be a challenge, but the challenge is set in the stone of internet notoriety at this moment.


Carbs, Glorious Carbs

So the daily prompt suggested the dissemination of information regarding a food you cannot, in good conscience, turn down. For those who have read this blog up until this point, you will understand that I frequently deal with matters that are related to the manly, bearded things in life. And one would assume a man with such a glorious beard would consider my paramount of all things food to be bacon.

You would wrong.

I am, in fact, a vegetarian. I have not always been, but I most certainly am now. And no, it is not impossible to be a great bearding man and to be a vegetarian simultaneously. In fact, it is quite simple. It comes down to flavor. And there is, if nothing else, something that always sets my taste buds aquiver: Carbs.

I love carbs in such a way that I could write poetry about them. They are a must in tandem with soups and dals and other such stewed sorts of foods. They make up some of the foods that I am addicted to in the most glorious of ways: Oreos, beer, and whiskey. No meal is complete without some form of them.

In the end, for my Thanksgiving meal, I would be lost without my stuffing and my potatoes. I have tried numerous variations on the two, but they will remain staples of my holiday gustation. Because is there truly a finer food?