Losing weight is really a very simple matter....

Despite all the myriads of books, ideas, diet plans, it only comes down to three things; eat less, exercise more or some combination of the two.

Yet there are millions, like me, who are dumbfounded to find a way to do this. For us, it is more than the mere calculation of what we digest and what we burn, for us, we do not eat to live, we live to eat. Food becomes the salve we slather over our emotional burns and scars. Food becomes the healer of our soul. We turn to the one thing that does not judge, it’s only purpose to provide comfort. That comfort is fleeting, so we need more..and more..and more.

The very notion of a “diet” makes us ill. Like we are losing the only friend who has really stood the test of time. Food knows me well, knows my darkest secrets and yet remains and I want to throw that friendship away? Food has protected me over the years, provided a much needed extra skin with which to suffer the indignities of rejection. What other friend can you blame ALL your problems on, and yet still keeps coming back for more. My dog is like that, but I refuse to eat him.

So many times I have said goodbye to this old friend, I have reached the peak of perfection, only to tumble to the bottom again. More often than not, I say goodbye, only to traverse the base of the mountain, just looking at the top, coming full circle back to my friend. He is still there, waiting. Good friend.

There comes a point where this friend becomes deadly. Choking the flow of my very blood, raising my sugar level intolerably. There are times when I can no longer bear the weight of my friend, as he pushes down on my very joints, slowing or stopping those things I most enjoy in life.

Others look at me and see weakness. That is OK, I look at me and see weakness as well. I see a doormat, being walked all over by this friend, I see someone unable to let go of things past.

I want to live, you know? Not forever, just well. I want to live with purpose and meaning. I want to make a difference and validate my existence beyond propping up the Lays / Pepsi Corporation. Does being fat stop me from all that? Yes. It becomes something to hide behind, to peer out from and see what is going on, then dart behind again for protection. Unfair. Being a coward is unfair to the rest of the world. It takes from it that small bit of uniqueness that is you, that tiny infinitesimal part of your potential that fits some niche like a peg.

For sure, there is more here than meets the eye. There is a strangling mess of guts, deep wounds that sink into the caverns of our innards, growing rotten as they go unnoticed. There are nerves like wires that carry old impulses and learned behaviors, like electricity to the brain, causing knee jerk reactions to dangerous and feared stimuli.

Courage then becomes the word of the day, the ability to overcome habitual fears. To have the courage to crush this fatty armor, pulverize it into submission until it melts away. Even more courage is required to let go of that quest, let it slip from your mind, your fork and spoon. Still more courage then to pick up the challenge for things more daunting and scary, for things that move the world. Courage to be a part of that world, instead of just on it.