In 1987, I used a four-track recorder, a borrowed drum machine, a Casio synthesizer, some old microphone, a Peavey amp and an Ibanez guitar to record music. Record four tracks, mix them down to one, record three more, mix those down to one, and that’s probably about it.
Today, I used a two-octave keyboard and an iPhone with hundreds of sound options. I can supplement as needed with my old Ibanez, and old Squire bass, and a Fender amp I bought when I handed down the Peavey.
To make it work, I just need an iRig, Bluetooth headphones, non-Bluetooth headphones, an 1/8 inch-to-1/4 inch adapter … no, wait, I swear I had a cable that would take care of this … where did I put that dongle …
Minor frustrations aside, all of this is fun. Some people swipe left and right to find sources of STDs, I mean, romantic partners. I’m swiping left and right and up and down to make and edit music.
It’s easier to make cold, 21st century, quantized beats than it is to make what we’d consider a “song.” But it’s an entertaining challenge.
And it’s distracting me from mindless eating, which how I lost 2 1/2 pounds in my first five days since saying, “Yo, that’s enough.” I just had my first haircut in three months, so that’s probably another 10 pounds. (OK, I exaggerate.)
I’ve also started exercising some portion control. Our local Thai place hands us a giant pile of food. No reason I can’t save some for the next day.
So that’s Week 2. I’ll likely need to shovel some snow in Week 3, so I might make more progress. Or I’ll have slammed a shovel over my head and frozen to death. Either way, see you next week.
Does this camera angle for this selfie make me look fat?
How about all the fat hanging over my waistband? Does that make me look fat?
I’m a Southerner. When I think “fat,” I think of people like Boss Hogg on The Dukes of Hazzard. Or his real-life analogue, Rush Limbaugh. Or two Saturday Night Live stars who died far too young, John Belushi and Chris Farley.
But over my adult life, the weight slowly piled up. I developed a habit of eating all the time at my desk, using food and Coca-Cola to fuel my brain. I’ve also developed an aversion to exercise other than yoga and walking, and those activities require a time commitment that I didn’t often want to make.
I’m a little embarrassed by the actual number on the scale. So for the purposes of these posts, I’m going to refer to my weight on March 15, 2018 as “50.” Then I started counting calories and engaging in something called “portion control.”
It worked. Within a month, I’d lost seven pounds. After three months, it was 15. Then an even 20 after five months. Then on June 8, 2019, I was down 32 pounds.
Naturally, I slacked off a bit after that and put about half of it back on over a few months and a holiday. Then I got COVID-19, a weight loss program I do not recommend.
When I recovered, I did what we’re all doing through the pandemic. I ate. Still feeling the effects of COVID-19 and some heightened allergies, I didn’t have much capacity for being outside and walking or weeding. Ten pounds accumulated rather quickly. Today, I weighed myself for the first time in months and found I’d picked up eight more.
So using 50 as the high point, here’s the summary:
2018, March 15: 50
2019, June 8: 18
2019, Aug. 12: 25
2020, Jan. 30: 32
2020, April 2: 29
2020, Aug. 18: 39
2021, Jan. 21: 47
Yeah, it’s time to self-intervene.
A difference this time, though, is that I’m wrapping it in the larger category of “self-care.” I haven’t just been neglecting my waistline. I’ve been neglecting myself. And I think they’re related.
In addition to letting the pounds creep back, I’ve let my workday creep later and later. Nothing wrong with a good work ethic, but a lot of what I’m doing isn’t really useful. I’ve been self-employed for nearly 11 years now, and I’m easily the worst boss I’ve ever had.
The goal here is to find things to look forward to other than eating. More time in the music room, which will be especially fun now that I’ve bought some recording doohickeys that will make it easier to subject you all to my musical musings. More time watching stuff I enjoy. More time reading something other than the Daily Doomscroll.
Mere self-denial isn’t an effective lifestyle change. It’s time to redirect my nervous energy to other things. Maybe the occasional break to do some arm curls and planks instead of going to the kitchen. Maybe more writing about things I enjoy rather than adding to the Doomscroll. Maybe the occasional five-minute break on the new exercise bike. That feels like two hours, so that’s, what, 1,200 calories burned?
And I’ll need to add a few things to the food rotation. It’s a little difficult because I like the flavor of apples but not the texture, eating oranges requires a bit of effort (can’t really eat while typing), and fresh vegetables and fruits require constant shopping. I spent an hour and a half making mashed sweet potatoes this week, and they’re good, but I miscounted the amount of potatoes and had on hand and therefore made a dessert rather than a side dish. I’ll work on it.
If I can get out and walk without my sinuses filling like the window well in our old house during a storm, that’ll be great. I no longer have a gym membership — in part because they canceled the free yoga classes, in part because gyms cater to those with a goal of “looking shredded” rather than the simpler goal of “not dying.”
Some I know came up with the idea of posting about all of these self-care resolutions. It’s a good way to hold myself accountable. It’s also good content for a Gen X blog because a lot of us are surely in the same situation.
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