Indulgences

Dearest Rachel –

This past weekend has been the first – and consequently, the only – one this month in which I wasn’t working in the booth at church. This meant that Daniel and I could go to church together – and therefore, since I was the one responsible for getting him there and back rather than himself, I would also be responsible for making sure he ate at some point during the day as well. All of which meant that, for the first weekend of the month, I wasn’t putting myself through an extended period of fasting (unless I still decide to do so at some point during the early part of this ‘work’ week, which honestly, I don’t see myself doing).

In a way, I’m a little concerned about whether this will cause me to lose ground on my weight loss plan. After breaking through two milestones in the past two months – 250 in July and 240 in August – I was hoping to get down to 230 by the end of September, and indeed, to continue at this rate for the rest of the year, theoretically dropping me to around 200 pounds by the end of it. However, despite hitting the gym four times this past week (including Saturday morning, after realizing that I wouldn’t feasibly able to avoid eating this Sunday), I’ve only been able to touch a floor of 232.5, which in my defense, I managed to do three separate times throughout the week. But the fact that I’ve stalled out short of the self-imposed milestone, with less than a week to go is getting mildly concerning, leaving me unsure as to whether this rate of loss is actually sustainable – and therefore, whether I can allow myself the indulgence of a weekend without fasting.

But then, if I do nothing but put myself through the punishment of working out and doing without, without giving myself the chance to enjoy the fruits of these labors, what’s the point of it all? Maybe, I just need to take a break from this whole grind, rest a bit, and relax.

After all, even Lars has pointed out that such a goal as mine (and you’d better believe I’ve told him about it on our weekly walks, as he’s taken those times to monitor what I’m doing; he seems to think that my moderate approach is the wisest, rather than trying to get intensely into one fad practice or another) is going to hit a point of diminishing returns. If nothing else, the fact that there’s less of me means that certain exercises, despite what the machines may claim (since they don’t take the weight of the person using them into consideration, but rather the amount of force and speed being applied to them) will burn fewer calories over time, as I’m moving a lighter body. On the other side, trying to diet too fast may cause my metabolism to conserve what fat reserves I have, slowing down the burn rate as well for the effort expended. He recommends a more gentle, gradual approach, with occasional indulgences thrown in, both as a reward and so as to not get my metabolism too used to some sort of ‘new normal,’ and recalibrating accordingly.

The long and short is, he’s warned me not to expect a constant rate of loss; it’s not reasonable for me to think I can make 200 by the end of the year.

So with all that in mind, and with Daniel and I headed to church together (and presumably to lunch thereafter), I decided to check with the girls on Saturday, to see if they would be interested in joining us at one place or another – or even going from church to wherever, depending on whether they were planning on visiting the new campus as part of its grand opening or not. Both of them actually expressed interest (although Erin admitted that her schedule might be up in the air until the last moment, which I hardly need to remind you about, but with the added responsibilities of training, that’s become even more so since you left), and after proposing a few options (including a new place that’s taken the place of the old bagel shop in the strip mall about a half mile from our home) we left it at that, assuming that we’d come to a consensus after the service.

What I hadn’t expected was Kerstin expressing a measure of boredom barely a few hours later. It seemed that she’d planned on doing something with her youngest daughter, after putting in another work week over in Beloit, but Ashley had come down with a headache, possibly a migraine, and just needed to rest. As a result, she asked if we would be willing to get together that night as well – possibly at this one Bulgarian place she’d found a few months ago and had been touting ever since.

While the notice was a bit short for Erin, who’d had plans to meet with her college friends online (kind of like what we all used to do on Sundays during quarantine, in fact; but with the five of us reduced to three, and the real gamer – you – out of the picture, it’s much less of a thing than it once was), I was game. And while I expected it to be just the two of us – which, admittedly, would have been an unusual dynamic, to say the least – I decided to broach the topic to the boys (who, while supposedly privy to the entire text conversation, never commented on it; between that and the fact that they were busily watching one YouTube anime series or another, I rather assumed they had their own sedentary plans), and was actually mildly surprised that they were willing to set aside their show to go out on that moment’s notice. Hey, I guess growing boys aren’t going to pass up the opportunity to eat.

So, two meals out in less than twenty-four hours. This was going to be particularly indulgent of me.

I will say that the ‘meatballs’ at the Bulgarian place were very good, although they were more like patties without the bun. Oh, and don’t praise me for avoiding the carbs in the missing bun; at Kerstin’s suggestion, I made sure we had a large plate of feta fries for the table. While I posit that there’s no cheese that doesn’t go with french fries, I’ve never seen them topped with shaved feta before; it looked like a block of the stuff had been run through one of those graters the waitstaff use at Olive Garden or the like. Meanwhile, Logan and I were puzzling over whether there was beef, lamb or pork in the meatballs; we concluded that it was lamb, only to be informed that it was pork by the proprietor, who was so much a friend of Kerstin’s that, when she arrived after we did, he presented her with her order without her even having to go up to the cashier to place it – I’m thinking she may have placed it online, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that he didn’t ring her up like he had the three of us. As a result, we almost pulled an inadvertent dine-and-dash with her meal. Fortunately, we caught ourselves at the last minute and made amends.

As for Sunday, Kerstin was the only one able to join us for the service; it was nice to be able to not have the responsibility of dealing with the slides (and considering a story Bill told me about Saturday and one of the new members of the pastoral staff learning a hard lesson about sitting down with the clicker in their pocket, there were other, more unusual reasons to be grateful to not have this week on duty, apparently) and to be able to take notes as a quasi family together. While we didn’t do much of it, compared to the two of us, we did banter a little back and forth about one line or another; I really do miss being able to do that, honey. And don’t think that kept me from taking notes, either; she did comment on my chicken scratches being just that much smaller and more crabbed than yours.

Anyway, afterwards, she looked through her phone to find out about the new place in our neck of the woods, and was rather intrigued by it. So, after getting word from Erin that she had run late and decided to attend at the usual location for her, but that she was more than willing to join us, we filled her in on our decision.

It was at this moment that Kerstin thought to have me check with her as to whether she was on her bike, as opposed to driving, as this would slow her down considerably in terms of doing so. Now, this wouldn’t be so much of a problem for Daniel and I; we don’t have to be anywhere of a Sunday, especially with Logan away at his folks for Yom Kippur (and I promised to not let on that he’d unknowingly eaten pork the night before, to which he pointed out that his meatball had already been stuffed with cheese – so he was already long past worrying about ‘kosher’). But Kerstin had to get herself packed and prepped to return to Beloit for the weekend; a long wait for Erin to get to Rolling Meadows would not be in the cards. Erin offered to hop on the Metra to get out there, but Rolling Meadows is one of the few towns in our orbit whose downtown isn’t serviced by the Northwest line. It just didn’t sound feasible.

Ultimately, we decided to stay in the area instead, and met at one of the local poké places. Turns out, this was as new to Erin as the original plan would have been, and she may have added it to her list of favorites; not only does it offer raw salmon and wasabi sauce, but she loves the color of their restrooms, a bright lime green. I know it sounds unusual, but consider how you would react to a place painted in purple, and I think you’d understand.

So, after all that – and a couple slices of cheese toast last night on top of everything else – I fully assumed that I would have fallen a ways back in my pursuit of 230. And while I am several pounds away from that low I hit those several times this past week, and am even back above my license weight, it’s within the margin of error of a pound or two, and still decidedly below the previous milestone (which I’ve now been under for the past eight days straight), so there’s that. Not bad, in terms of consequences for deliberate backsliding.

So, with all that being said, honey, if you’d continue to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck, I’d appreciate it. I’m going to need it.