When Life Hands You Lemons...

We've all heard the saying, "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade."

Let's be frank: that's a load of crap.

When life handed me lemons today, I wanted to say, "Really, life? More lemons? Take them back. I've had enough."

Then my inner Madea said this:

Let's face facts: we don't want lemons in life. They are sour. On their own, they are not enjoyable. And sometimes, no matter what you do, there is no way that you can take those lemons and turn them into something good.

None of these are good options when receiving lemons...and I'm not sure how you start a fire with lemons.

Sometimes lemons are just lemons.

Instead of whining or complaining or trying to change those lemons into something better, we need to learn to accept that sometimes we just need to say, "Yep. These are lemons. They are my lemons. And eventually life is going to give me something other than lemons."

Not everything in life is great, but God is great. And He has great things planned for us. He tells that in his Word in Jeremiah 29:11.

Today, God taught me to accept the lemons. I said, "God, life has given me lemons again. I accept that. I cannot change the fact that they are lemons. I know that one day You're going to give me something truly great...but today is my day to get lemons. And that's OK."

Sometimes we work too hard to turn something bad into something good. But where is our faith if we feel that we must act to change those circumstances? God is faithful, and--if you're patient--God will give you the good stuff in His time. All we have to do is wait. (Granted, waiting is never fun or easy.) Making lemonade says that we don't have faith in God's provisions for our life. Sometimes God just wants us to hold the lemons until He's ready to give us something great.

So that's what I'm doing now: holding lemons. I'm not mad or bitter about it. It's just what God wants me to do right now...and who am I to complaining about that?

And if this doesn't convince you not to make lemonade with life's lemons, then maybe this last picture will:

When You Feel Like the Fattest Person at the Gym

We've got just over a week left in our 8-week weight loss challenge, and things have been slowly progressing. Check out this before-and-after picture of my first weigh-in and last Monday's weigh-in.

Don't get me wrong. I know it is a huge accomplishment, and I'm really proud of myself.

But there are still days where I just feel like a big old blob of fat jiggling away while I'm on the elliptical. And to make matters worse, it seems like lately I've been timing my gym visits with all of the super-fit, chiseled, Greek god-like guys. Nothing makes you feel even fatter than being the fattest person at the gym.

It's depressing.

I see them in the mirrors lifting weights behind me, and I'm all like, "Don't mind me. I'm just huffing and puffing away over here, sweating like I'm sunbathing on the surface of the Sun. Nothing to see..."

I came across this meme on Pinterest the other day, and it totally sums up my feelings about this whole subject.

I know how you feel, Jim Gaffigan...

I know it's stupid to feel like this. Their years of hard work in the gym are precisely why they look the way they do. And I hope that one day my time in the gym will make me look good, too.

But it still irks me when I realize I'm the fattest person at the gym... and that motivates me even more to do something to change that.

If I can lose about six or seven more pounds, I'll be back to the weight I was when Jackie and I got married three years ago.

My ultimate goal is to get down to 200-215 pounds. 215 will get me out of the obese category on the BMI chart. I've told myself that I can do it by the end of the year, which should be a realistic goal.

Yep, I am clearly too short...

Thanks again to all of you who have supported and encouraged me on this journey. Your support keeps me going!

[Tangent beginning in 3...2...1...]

For those of you who are wondering how my dissertation is coming along, here's a little update for you: it's going slowly. I got feedback yesterday on the largest chapter I've written. I knew it would need some work, but my chair wants some major reorganization.

At first I freaked out and got really discouraged. Then I took a deep breath, and got to work on revisions based off of his suggestions.

And what do you know? The chapter is improving and will be much better! I feel really good about it! My chair's honest feedback was right on the money, and I'm thankful for it!

And, by the way, I've gotten hooked on Doctor Who this summer, which makes this picture all the more appropriate when thinking about my dissertation.

Finally, I have been able to enjoy some time to clear my mind from my dissertation and teaching work. I finally got to take Jackie to see Star Trek Into Darkness. She really liked it! My plan to convert her into a nerd worked! I love that she likes Star Trek and lets me indulge in my nerdiness. We also saw Despicable Me 2. Now I can't get this minion's sound out of my mind, and now all sirens should sound like this.

So that's about it. The summer class I'm teaching is going well, and we're also getting ready for my brother's wedding, which is a week from today! Needless to say, I'm as busy as ever--and thankfully, I'm lugging around a lot less weight while we're doing all of this stuff!

Fighting Fatness...It's a "Disease," You Know.

Hi there, readers! Thanks for sticking around through the Great Blog Drought of 2013.

So as many of you may have heard, the AMA has classified obesity as a disease. While I'm not sure I completely agree with that, I do realize that there is certainly a genetic factor at play. (The Finkleas aren't known for being a skinny bunch...) I don't want to make an excuse for my weight by saying it is a disease...and, yes, I am obese. That's a hard word to write...to acknowledge...to accept. But just because I do not like the word does not make it any less true.

I. Am. Obese.

Is my weight the result of a disease? Yes, now please pass the Oreos. No. I am obese because of choices I made.

Should I have a 3rd helping of mac and cheese? Does a bear poop in the woods?
Do you want another piece of pie? You betcha!
Salad? Nah, I'm saving extra room for dessert!
I ate so much that I think I'm gonna pop! Oh, did you say you've got banana pudding? Why, yes, I've got room.

I think you're beginning to see my thought process. I have a love affair with food. I'm an emotional eater. I'm a hungry eater. I'm a I-don't-have-anything-else-to-do eater. I eat if I crave something crunchy. I eat if I crave something sweet. I love to eat.

And I packed on every fatty, jiggling, disgusting pound by eating some of the most delicious, decadent foods on the planet. I believe it was Kate Moss who said, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels." I really want to slap her across her sunken cheek and ask, "Have you ever had my mom's mac and cheese? I think you'd change your mind."

At my skinniest: 180 lbs. in 2004 or 2005

So here I sit, writing this blog to you, spilling my guts about my...well, gut. As many of you know, I was the fat kid in school. Then when I started college, I finally realized that I needed to make a change. During my freshman year at the University of Montevallo, I dropped 55 pounds while my classmates put on the "Freshman 15." It was the best I've ever felt in my whole entire life. I loved my body.

Unfortunately, my losses didn't last forever. I slowly put back on every single one of those 55 pounds...and a few extra. Then I got married and put on another 30.

I was in my mid-20s. I loved my life. I loved my wife. But I hated myself. I didn't recognize the fatty in the mirror. My shirt size went from being able to wear some mediums, to larges, to extra larges, to 2XL. My waist size jumped more than 10 inches. I trapped myself inside my own body...and I felt like I would never escape.

I prayed that God would miraculously make me skinny. (As Christians, we are supposed to treat our body like a temple of God. I apparently built a temple for Buddha...but at least no body tried to rub my belly.) I'd diet really good for a week...only to reward my efforts by pigging out. I'd think about going back to the gym. (Turns out it isn't "the thought that counts.") I was still fat...and getting fatter.

We tried Weight Watchers. We tried the 6 Week Body Makeover. We tried "Let's just control our portions." We tried Zumba. Nothing worked... at least, not for long.

And then about 5 weeks ago, we were talking with Jackie's cousin Beth (check out her ah-mazing blog, Unskinny Boppy!) and Uncle Jon about starting an 8-week weight loss challenge. (We chose 8 weeks because there were 8 weeks until my brother's wedding.) To motivate ourselves, we said, "Let's all chip in and give the winner a cash prize!" We added more family members and friends, and the winner's pot grew to quite a chunk of change.

Turns out that the motivation that I'd been lacking all these years was a big ol' stack of cash. I started eating better (back on Weight Watchers), lifting weights, and doing cardio like it's going out of style.

After a 50 minute cardio workout. 7.57 miles & 663 calories!!!

And the weight started coming off.

So far, I'm down 18 pounds. I'm back down to an XL shirt, and I've had to tighten my belt a notch. I've also lost 15 inches from all over my body.

Who knew that my competitiveness would jump start my weight loss?

I am on the road to recovery. Each pound that melts away makes me a little more free. I'm rebuilding my temple from the image of Buddha to the image of Christ. (Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" has become my mantra when I want to give up at the gym...which, let's be honest, is often.)

It has not been easy. Muscles have ached that haven't ached in years. There are days I don't think I can get out of bed because my body refuses to move. There are days that I want to simply give up.

But I push through the soreness, roll out of bed, and I refuse to give up!

Workout Before & After. And, yeah, my shirt says "Flossin' ain't just for gangstas"...which is true. Gotta keep that grill lookin' so fresh and so clean-clean.

I've been posting a lot of pictures on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram to keep folks updated on my progress. Every like or comment fuels my desire to get this weight off! My friend Ryan tells me and Jackie that we motivate him to run...which, in turn, motivates me to run. It's a good cycle to be in.

Folks that haven't seen me in several weeks have noticed a difference. (But I've also gotten a little sun this summer, so part of the change may be that I look a little more tan and not so much like a pale ghost...)

I like this transforming version of me. He's not only skinnier...he's happier. He will live a richer, more satisfying life. (He'll also live a life where he doesn't get winded walking up a flight of stairs or bending over to tie his shoes...both of which used to be sadly true.)

I can do this. I will get this weight off. I will (hopefully) win our weight loss challenge.

But it's not all about the money.

I want to transform my life...forever.

Yeah, the AMA may say obesity is a disease, but I think it is mostly a choice. It's a choice every time you open the fridge, go through the drive-thru, and sit down at the dinner table. People don't choose to get cancer, or MS, or lupus. Those are diseases. My obesity is not a disease. It is the result of my choices...which, up until a few weeks ago, were delicious sucked.

Thank you to all of my friends and family for your support on this journey. Your words of encouragement mean the world to me, and I couldn't do it without you.

And I have to give a special shout out to my wife. Jackie, you keep me focused and driven, and I am so thankful to have you not only as my wife, but my best friend and partner in life. We are doing this together, and I think that's why we're being successful. I am so proud of your successes, too!

Well, that's it for now. Gotta go to bed so that I can head to the gym in the morning!

Stay healthy, friends!

We're Shakin' Our Rumps...Again.

First of all, you can get your mind out of the gutter.

Jackie has signed us up to run the Rumpshaker 5K this year. (You may remember when we ran it a couple of years go.)

The race is on March 30, so we've got some time to get ready. But we haven't started our training yet. The hardest part is finding the motivation to go to the gym. Last time we ran the Rumpshaker, we went to the gym for a month solid before the race to train.

Every other day or so, one of us will look over at the other and say, "When are we going to start training for the marathon?" (We call it a marathon because sometimes thinking about it makes it seem like a marathon. Apologies to all you marathon runners out there...)

The problem with training is that I've had a total lack of motivation to hit the gym. The race is 3 days after my 28th birthday, and I'd really like to be in better shape by then. I mean, I know I can't lose a ton of weight between now and then, but I like to lose something and be stronger. I keep looking at old pictures for motivation to remind me of how skinny I used to be. They remind me of how I've transformed my body before. If I've done it once, I know that I can do it again.

But why can't I get motivated this time??? I feel like if I can figure that out, I'd be unstoppable. In the meantime, I hope our looming race day will begin to get me to drag my butt to the gym in my free time (you know, the few seconds I have between class, prepping for class, dissertation work...).

Anger & Frustration!!

First of all, let me say that this blog isn't dead...it's just been in a bit of a slump...or a coma. My life, on the other hand, has been a crazy whirlwind of chaos over the past few weeks. I took my Master's comps last week, which were a HUGE source of stress, and the stress is still lingering as I try to get a time set up for my oral defense. Between studying for the comps and trying to get all my other school stuff done, I haven't had a lot of time to invest in myself, much less working out.

I hadn't been too concerned about my lack of gym time because I had steadily been losing weight over the past weeks. It wasn't a lot of weight, but it was enough to make me feel good about myself. However, that changed when I got on the scale yesterday and had gained 3 pounds. I. Was. Mad.

I wasn't mad at the scale.

I wasn't mad at the number.

Heck, I wasn't even mad at those pesky 3 pounds.

I was mad at myself. I had let myself down. I can't blame anyone but myself (and maybe some Valentine's candy...yeah, I definitely blame the candy).

I'm the one that wouldn't drag my butt to the gym or even pop in a workout DVD. How bad is it when I won't even workout in the comfort of my own living room?! And when I do go to the gym, it seems that another piece of equipment is broken. (For those of you keeping count, now we've got 2 broken ellipticals and a busted treadmill!) It's all just so frustrating!

This time, losing weight has been so hard. That's not to say that it was easy to lose it the first time, but at least I was able to commit to it then. I was so hell-bent on losing weight the first time, and now I seem to have lost my desire. I feel like have been waving the white flag of surrender without even putting up much of a fight... and that makes me angry too!

So now, here I am: just a few pounds lighter and mad as hell. I've got to get my head on straight. I've got to do this, even when I'm not motivated. I've got to do this for me. I've got to do this for my future. I've seen what doing nothing does to my body. A few short weeks ago when I started this blog, I was at the heaviest I've ever been in my life. It's a scary number that I never ever want to see again.

I know that Lent is still a little ways away, but I already know what I'm going to give up this year (and no, it's not brussel sprouts, like I normally do). I'm giving up laziness. After all, laziness is what it all boils down to for me. I'm going to get more active. I'm going to find creative ways to work activity into my day. I'm going to do better because I have to. I don't want to be fat forever. I'm tired of my clothes not fitting. I'm tired of getting out breath while I'm tying my shoes. I'm tired of feeling like a prisoner in my own body. I'm tired of being unhappy with my body.

Another major motivation for me is that Jackie and I have decided that we aren't going to even think about having kids until we both get in shape. We've set that as a goal for ourselves, not to make us lose weight faster so we can start trying, but as a way to invest in ourselves so that we can become better parents one day.

I know that I'll probably never have 6-pack abs or bulging biceps, but I can have a flatter belly and more toned arms. I don't have to have the body of a god; but I do want a body that God will be proud of.

I'm a firm believer that my body is a temple, and it's high time I treat it as such.