Tag Weight Loss

The Incredible Shrinking Man

Michael 4 Comments

I got on the scale last Friday, like I have almost every day for the past I don’t know how many years, and like it has been for so many of them I read out to myself 154.8 pounds. I then hopped into the shower (ok, I gingerly eased myself over the tub wall and carefully positioned myself under the running water’s spray), shampooed, rinsed, repeated, lathered, rinsed, sang a few verses of He’s So Fine (I was having a feminine moment), then hopped back out (no, I’m not going through that again). And then walked past the scale and couldn’t remember if I had recorded that day’s weight. So I weighed myself again.

No, I’m not obsessed with my body, good or bad it may be or the weight of it. I am, like most people with late stage kidney disease, obsessed with making sure my body isn’t holding onto water unduly. The best way to do this is to weigh oneself and track that weight hoping not to find more than minor daily changes or steady increases over time. Hence the daily recording and the longish explanation I just made you suffer.

Anyway, I weighed myself again. 154.6 pounds. I went to jot that number when I saw I had indeed recorded the earlier figure of 154.8 pounds. Hmm. I was sure I had just weighed myself at that lower number. Because I have always been a bit more than a bit obsessive I decided to again step on the scale. Yep, 154.6. Hmm.

ScaleSaturday morning I went through my routine weigh-in (or weigh-in routine if you prefer) and found myself to be 154.6 pounds. Did the shower stuff, made use of the freshly laundered bath towel (love a soft towel), and glanced down at the scale. Should I? I did. And it read 154.4 pounds.

Skip to Sunday. Before shower, 154.6. After, 154.4. Monday before, 154.8. (Went out for dinner Sunday. Must have been that glass of wine). After, 154.6. Tuesday, the same 0.2 pound difference. What is happening to me? Am I shrinking?

Two-tenths of a pound does not seem like much. Indeed it isn’t. It’s about 3 and 1/2 ounces, around 100 grams. On the other hand, it’s more than just a dribble. It is, to keep my comparisons bathroom related, a bit less than a family size tube of toothpaste, a bit more shampoo than what the TSA will permit you to carry through an airport security checkpoint. Where did those ounces go?

Since I conducted my experiment, non-scientific though it was, over 5 days and came up with the identical data for each day, I am assuming valid results. I wash off two tenths of a pound with every shower. Perhaps I’m rubbing too hard and sloughing off more skin than I can regrow in the time I’m under the water. If I use a luffa instead of a sponge would I weigh even less? Maybe I’m getting too involved with my intra-shower songfest. Would the choice of a shorter song or a less energetic display of air guitar playing (don’t judge me) result in less weight loss? Could the water actually be too hot and I really am shrinking? I’m sure I’ve never been Scotch Guarded and anything is possible.

I don’t know where it’s going but I am definitely lighter on the after side of the morning wash up. I might see if I can commercialize my findings. People are always looking for a no pain weight loss program. What can be more painless than showering? If everybody experiences the same 3+ ounce loss with each shower only 5 showers a day a day makes for more than a pound off every 24 hours. In a week that could be almost 10 pounds. Providing your hot water heater can take the strain.

I’m going to look into this. After all, I have that kind of time.

Weight Not, Want Not

Michael Leave a comment

Three years ago I said to myself, “Self,” I said, “you have got to lose some weight!” I was easily 50 pounds overweight. I not only was putting on pounds, I was losing height. The inches I lost going up and down found their way to my middle and went round and round. I recall when I was told I had to start getting in shape my stock answer was “round is a shape!” But truth be told, I felt pretty bad. I was always short of breath, I took elevators to go one floor (down, even), and my favorite place to go was the airport because there were people movers all over. If I had to walk all that way on my own I’d just sit and wait a while and eventually my breathing and heart rate would get back close to normal.

I was certain I could lose weight. I watched TV. I saw the ads for pills, exercise CDs, diet books, and portable gym equipment. In just 3 weeks, 6 weeks, 30 days, or 90 days I too could lose inches and pounds. I was ready to take all the “before” pictures if I could just bend over far enough to get the camera case off the floor. And if pills, exercise, and diet didn’t work – or didn’t get started – I had a secret weapon. I would monitor my portions and eat less. And I did. I only had one rack of ribs for dinner, half a chicken at one meal, only two appetizers even if the special was for three, and I always shared dessert. I rarely had soft drinks unless they were mixed with bourbon and I even started drinking light beer for a little while. Even with all that, I still didn’t lose weight. In fact, I gained! By the time that year was over I was exactly 100 pounds heavier than what the height/weight charts said I should have weighed.

Two years ago I said to myself, “Self,” I said, “this would be a whole lot easier if I wasn’t so fat.” The surgeon agreed with me but said I really needed to do this. So during the procedure to remove the cancer, all or part of a couple organs were removed. And finally I lost some weight. Since then I’ve had three more surgeries, five more hospitalizations, several outpatient procedures, and quite a bit more weight loss.

I am 90 pounds lighter than I was three years ago, only 10 pounds away from a goal I would have otherwise been proud to have reached. I still get short of breath and I still take elevators for just one floor. That’s because I can’t walk a flight of steps without becoming over-exerted. I’d like to take an “after” picture but when I get down to the floor I have to have somebody help me back up. Eventually the stamina will return, the flexibility will come back, and those last 10 pounds will disappear.

All I have to do is sit around and wait a while.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?