If the jeans button wear them

In January of 2005, in part to assuage my wretched four dollar shame of a multi McGriddle breakfast followed by a multi double cheeseburger dinner and in part a successful attempt to improve my chances of dating a beautiful girl who would crush my soul a short nine months later, I gave up McDonald's for all eternity.  In the spring of 2007, to both prove a different ex-girlfriend correct when she said while waving goodbye that I would look great if I dropped 30 pounds and to attract a jealousy inspiring anyone for that day of proof-giving, I began exercising in earnest.  I gave up many comforts and pushed my body to the breaking point by grinding out mile after gloriously moderate North Carolina mile.  By the end of 2007 I had lost thirty pounds and could knock out a ten mile run without much difficulty.  In late January of 2008 I fell into the second darkest depression of my adult life...oh wait...third.  I forgot about another ex-girlfriend.  The pounds returned, the miles went away, and life crawled on.  

All of these events are related.

I began a weight watchers program in November of 2009, at long last tired by my failed attempts at giving up life to lose weight I shouldn't carry, angry at my inability to conform to any level of socializing norms wherein I could actually find a companion, and worried when I was no longer comfortable within my own clothes.  At its essence, the program was not about giving up.  Weight watchers is not a diet, it is a life style change.  It provided me with mathematical structure and useful substitutions timed to arrive each week at my meetings, arming me for the week ahead.  I fell into it with gusto and found that I liked the system.  I did not have to give anything up that I truly desired, I merely had to account for it.  The freedom of that realization was uplifting.  I can handle life style change - I did with McDonald's and never looked back.  What I cannot handle is sacrifice.  On my tear through 2007 I gave up many many things in the all consuming pursuit of proving I could be a better person if only I looked better.  Since November, the only thing I have given up is an occasional lunch at Panera.  (Seriously, the bacon turkey bravo is sixteen points...sixteen!!)

Once at a meeting I was asked what pushed me to keep with the program, to make the adjustments, and to avoid the temptations that exist everywhere a table next to a microwave can be found within a corporate workplace.  I told them about 2007 and how at the end of it all, I purchased a pair of jeans in celebration.  In December of 2007 I was 192 pounds with a 33 inch waist.  Those jeans looked good.  And I hadn't worn the things since halfway through 2008.  I told them that I keep the jeans on top of a dresser in my bedroom and I see the pair every day.  And every day I see them I think...soon....soon.  

I own four pairs of day to day, wear them to work jeans.  There was a time when I did not realize you could wear jeans more than once before you had to throw them in the washer.  Technically this morning I could have easily selected one the pair I had worn earlier in the week.  However, I had hit the weight goal I was trying to hold for the last week (I weight myself nearly every day but the only official data point for myself is taken on Thursday morning).  I could have selected one of those jeans and been fine.  For some reason, however, I wondered what the celebration jeans felt like.  I knew I was ten pounds out (202 currently), but I was down fifteen pounds since starting the program in November.  I felt good.  I felt that maybe...maybe they wouldn't be impossible to button.

They fit.  

A bit snug, but I did not have to do any crazy contortions or breathing tricks to button them up.  They fit!  

So I wore them and felt great about myself all day.  In another 10 weeks I will hopefully be back to the 192 level where I was at the end of 2007.  Regardless, I feel better about myself.  I still haven't figured out that companionship thing yet, but I am not terribly worried about it right now.  One thing at a time.  One pound at a time.  It's Friday, my old jeans fit me, and I had sushi for dinner.  Life is good.

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At every turn, magic (and good beer and more magic)

There exists, set deep within my bones at this very moment, an ache so thorough I can do nothing but notice it with every movement micro or macro.  The ache and wretched weariness is born in part from a fierce determination to get back into martial arts and part from the startling distance of my current shape from where it once lived.  Also, I have a devil may care attitude on the proper construction of just about anything involving grammar at this point in the evening.  It has been a good day, but it stuns me that I remain this destroyed two days after my last session in the dojo. 

A technical maelstrom swirls within my living room this evening.  To my right, I am party to 1/6th of a webcast conversation between six brewers, all of their twitter feeds, and an array of live blogging.  In front of me is...well...what I am typing at the moment, but hidden behind that is a world of distraction.  Beyond the table, the television sits ready to stream all manner of missed shows or Netflix wonderments.  The Brewers - a few months ago @topfermented @SimplyBeer @HopfenTreader @CaptainsChair @THFBeer_Name and @LutherHaus decided to try an experiment.  They each took the same recipe for a beer, altered one part of it, brewed the beer, and sent bottles to each of the other six participants.  They are trying each of the beers and commenting on them...broadcasting their thoughts...and I am piggybacking on @topfermented's native charm and tech savvy watching his part of the action.

Of course, I am having something excellent on my end as well.

And all of this swirls through my head and I realize...today was a good day.  I had a interesting set of experiences professionally that I can comment on at a later date, I heard from a friend that his partner received the job offer he was shooting for, I played about 90 solid minutes of some of the best and craziest RockBand 2 Drums, goofed of for a few minutes in Azeroth, and now find myself savoring a sweet and powerful beer listening to enthusiasts talk about their craft.

Over the weekend I am going to put together the next part of the Alkhezzar storyline to go up on Monday.  Wednesday will probably see another Location.  I am worried that Alkhezzar isn't good.  I am also worried that I completely suck at this and don't know it.  One of my goals this year (which has been a goal for a number of years now but seriously...its time) is to get my first novel edits completed and push it out through Lulu.  So that weighs on me as well.  But tonight is not a night to dwell on my fears of failing as a writer, tonight is a good night.  There is modern technical magic at every turn, I am wired into a conversation between a friend in Durham and a friend in Atlanta.  Off in another corner of my computer, over a half dozen people that I know well yet have never met face to face are playing out the remainder of their Friday hours in a fantasy realm of pixels and sorcery.  And somewhere, unknown to me, five other brewers join my friend in a shared passion of craft beer.  It is a strange and curious world and I love every bit of it.