I took unrelenting pain and associated it with my eating habits. All of this happened while standing on that scale. Our minds are always several steps ahead of wherever we are. I do not profess to understand how it works. I just know that it does so in mysterious ways beyond the grasp of our comprehension. This, is why writing down what you want is so important.
When you write it down, the thought becomes flesh.
Before a thought makes itself consciously known, somehow, in ways I cannot yet explain, the mind has already gathered the ingredients for it, created it, boxed it, and shipped it off to you. Just like a gift. Every thought that comes across the conveyor belt of your mind making its way through production is special. Each one, whether you know it or not, carries a life force.
Sometimes the thought can take its time before our filters allow it to reach the conscious mind. The miracle of all thoughts (even those deemed inconsequential), is how quickly the process takes place. Just a few seconds are required from the formulation of the idea itself, to ingredient gathering, to shipping. The most incredible megafactory there is already resides inside your mind. We do not sit down and think nearly enough about how grateful we each ought to be to have control over a power so magnificent that we cannot even fully grasp what its truly capable of. The best we can do is merely attempt to align ourselves with what we feel is prudent and construct some meaning regarding something inside us all that works along a scale too powerful to convey in words. This, is the majesty of the mind.
By the time I stepped off that scale, I was ready. The changes would be permanent because I was not willing to accept anything less. I did not care for these changes to last a few days or weeks. I put in an order that this would be changed for life.
The verdict was sharper than a blade and faster than a bullet. Swift. Precise. Instant. And it is an order that would over time, prove, to be unbreakable. My standards for myself were raised and there was no way I was ever going back to being the way I was. This is a procedure that I would repeat over and over in my life when sweeping life changes needed to be implemented smoothly & efficiently.
For a long time, doctors told me I was carrying too much weight for my naturally thin boned five-foot-six height/structure. My body mass index percentage was far over the acceptable level. No matter. As soon as I’d leave their office, I would be ready to resume my sedentary lifestyle, most assuredly planning out my next meal or snack. But the shake-up was already percolating in my subsequent thoughts. I was after a certain feeling. I was in pursuit of a feeling of lightness, figuratively and literally. Little did I know there were fissures in the hold food had me cloaked in.
I deeply desired being able to tuck my shirts in when I put them on, instead of wearing them untucked all the time. I used to envy other physically fit guys my age who looked so much better in their clothes. I surreptitiously watched them out of the corner of my eyes when they were fixing themselves up in the bathroom mirror. There was a confidence and a shine fitted to them by a veneer of muscle that could only be attained through strenuous physical effort on their part. Instead of doing nothing about it and remaining jealous, I chose to use the power of paper, both in my mind and on my desk at home. If I wasn’t thinking about it or seeing it in my mind, I was writing down my goals in a journal. I explain all this further in “The White Paper.”
Sometimes, you need to obsess over something.
The power of writing is that it has a way of making things “final.” You could feel like you are a million miles from achieving a goal or fulfilling a purpose, but the moment you write it down, you at least begin to start believing that you can do it. You are literally investing in yourself. You are investing seed money inside your brain for your enterprise. After you write it down, processes are immediately put into action. You inherently bring yourself that which you desire. Again, for reasons I cannot yet explain (at least shorthand), you pull what you want, to you. This is all about closing that vast gap between disbelief and belief. If someone asked me the major difference between the haves and the have-nots, it comes down to this: The only thing more important than fully believing in yourself is to start believing in yourself.
The start is the hardest part. I want to do all I can to save you time and the expenditure of wasted energy. Success follows belief. Growing up, I did not have a lot of belief in myself. I had to go through pain and hardship to arrive at what I’ve learned. My pain and suffering was meant for me to come up with creative ways to lessen the pain and suffering of all those around me. I want nothing more than to help point you in the right direction so that unlike myself, you do not find yourself driving off cliffs.
In school, we are expected to take blank paper out for note taking. This is how my mind was trained. Outside of class, there was no reason for me to ever take out a sheet of paper. Or so I thought. On the surface, it seems like a waste of time. That is, until you do it. Initially, it was difficult for me to do because it ventured on the absurd. In spite of–or because of it–I took out a sheet of paper and wrote down how much weight I wanted to lose. This, birthed a process that took on a life of its own. And here is the best thing: I didn’t stop there.
I began scribbling down steadily decreasing numbers from 189. Once I got my weight down into the 160’s, I expanded it. As I was writing these descending numbers I visualized my grandma’s scale going down from 189. I locked that vision inside my head while I was writing–turning it into flesh. This is when your thoughts become tangible things.
This is a power we all have and it is a secret because no one talks about it.
Not even consciously thinking about what I was spending my time doing, it was not long before I filled up the entire page. And then I filled up another. I wrote down things like: smaller waistline, less flabby arms, lose the double chin, feel better about myself, etc. The more I wrote, the better I began to feel. It was after all this writing that I realized that I really was after a feeling. The final result would come not from losing all the weight, but from the feeling that would be achieved as a result of my changes.
Like most overweight teens, at times, I was teased about it. I did not endure the sharpest blade in the drawer daily, but a few times a month, I would find my already low self-confidence in my appearance attacked by others as if I needed it for some motivational purpose (maybe I did). The teasing never grew to be constant, but there were certain people who chose to remind me about my chubby proportions. This branding would leave its mark on me everlasting. But here’s the twist. While those people would age and grow chunky and weight challenged themselves, I would go on to achieve levels of fitness that they will never accomplish. This petty satisfaction is as quenching for my mind as a cold bottle of water after a six mile run in the desert. I digress though. (For those of you out there that can relate to this, the payback alone is worth the struggle.) Let me back up to being seventeen again.
It hurts to bear the brunt of jokes and criticisms from anybody. But to have it come from members of your family makes it take on a new frontier of devastation (particularly for those who were as emotionally fragile as I was). I still remember the oft repeated remarks about my chubby arms, cheeks, and belly. When kids are young, unknowingly, they can do and say things to one another that cause great pain, however unintended it may be. The better part of me wants to come through and say the right thing. But I keep it real with my audience so here goes:
I should forgive them. Maybe I’ll save the forgiveness for my deathbed. Is it that serious? Absolutely.
Let me tell you why. I need this so I never let up. I will never again be the way I was. To forgive is to forget. To remove that wedge is to forget the transgression. Some chips on the should never be extricated. I channel energy to this day that compels me to never stop pushing forward. What happened to me as a boy hardened me. At the time it was hurtful to be called “husky” by my contemporaries. I always saw it as offensive. Sub-human even. And well beneath me. To be talked down to and looked down upon like this gave me power that can only come from God. This is why it hurt so badly–only God could get me through it. God wanted me to learn to trust in him. Still I was deeply affected. These scars would heal, but the marks made me unforgiving, not only on myself, but toward others. Forgiveness–I struggle with this struggle to this day.
I had to get real. Deep down, I knew I was better than how I looked. The time was now. I always knew there would come a time when I would stop my unhealthy eating, but I had no inkling of when. But when I saw that number (189 pounds), I just remember thinking that I had to go cold turkey, which meant having to make the most significant changes possible to my diet. I knew the foods that needed eliminating, because my mother and a multitude of doctor’s told me such. From the moment of stepping on the scale while at grandma’s, with newfound resolve, I decided I would immediately cut out ALL sodas from my diet. I do not mean a gradual slow change where I could comfortably wean myself off them little by little. Soda consumption would be cut to zero–immediately. That day.
This was the first and arguably most difficult change of them all. The brutality of my choice made for supreme effectiveness. Given what I had been through in my life up to that point, I knew I had what it took to flip that switch and do this, even though I’d never done it heretofore. I realized I had to rely primarily on drinking lots of water and a few ounces of fruit juice drinks a day as they too were very high in sugar. This significant dietary change made an immediate impact in a matter of days. Up to this point, my water consumption was poor at best. Water had no flavor. No fizz. No bubbles. Nothing. It was just so plain. Despite knowing nothing about dieting and nutrition, I also knew it had 0 calories and 0 grams of sugar. That’s all I needed to know.
Initially, this change alone made me want to cry, because I drank sodas everyday for years. From that point forward, if I craved a sugar fix in terms of refreshment, it would be from Orange Juice, Apple Juice, or Cranberry Juice. To this day, I remember how difficult that was for me. The addiction to sugar was chemical. I was not scared by the withdrawal I was dealing with. What was scarier was tangibly realizing and experiencing for myself the fact I was addicted to sugar. It always had its way with me. I would not be deterred. I absolutely had to kick the addiction and take back control I’d long since given up. I was throwing away my very own body dumping all these chemicals and additives and calories and fat into it–far more than could be burned up in the form of energy as I was not physically active. I started at the most basic level–drinks. I would branch out from there into what foods I could eliminate. I was that determined to see the weight fall off and keep it off so that I would never feel this way again. This is how awful I felt about what I saw that day on the scale. My surgical mind would have it no other way.
The first two weeks were very hard. I craved the sugar and the burning carbonation sensation that I was so used to enjoying. I was chemically and psychologically addicted. My taste buds lusted after the bubbly feeling. Even my body reacted strangely as I was coming “off” the influx of sugar it had long been accustomed to. I remember having a lot of headaches. It really was a somatic response I was experiencing. After what was a very hard two weeks, I never quite desired them with the same verve again. I have not been addicted to sodas since. In the present day, I can have a 20oz. bottle of soda and go months before having a another drop. Water is my beverage of choice now (going through several bottles a day).
At that time, I never could have foreseen where I am now. I was in the trenches as an army of one, greatly outnumbered and outgunned by my sugar & carbonated adversary. I had to out-wit, out think, and out work the enemy that knew my taste buds best. (My goodness! Going to the grocery store with my mom and coming home without any Soda!) This is a war of attrition that most people never win. I had to subject myself to psychological pain. My waistline was my inspiration. All I had to do was look down and look at my protruding belly and reach for my “love handles”. That gave me all the ammo I needed in this war. My waistline was my weakness that led to being my biggest strength. Whenever I thought of breaking down and going back to my old ways, particularly during those first two weeks, I would run my hand over my marshmallow soft belly, and that was the only reminder I needed of why I was doing this. I do not doubt that I rubbed my belly and pinched those deep stores of fat hundreds of times over a protracted period, continually reminding myself of why this had to be done. That, was my trigger.
I saw no other option, because my mind took complete control and eliminated all other alternatives. This was my Plan A because there was no Plan B. The number on that scale would never reach that high again. Daily, I would go in the bathroom, shut the door, lift my shirt, and see myself. This is how I pulled my trigger several times a day. I felt this pain. It was hard for me to look at myself like this because I hated what I saw. I forced myself to “go there.” I made myself face up to reality. I would not run from this. Not anymore.
Until I started doing this, I never really “analyzed” how I look. Mostly, because I didn’t want to give myself the news about myself I already knew. My body–it was how one would look when depression was an everlasting companion ever ready to devour one with its’ demonic silverware.
Every time I saw my belly I was reminded of my Dad walking away. This, is what I hated more than the fat.
I was due for an extended period of healing, from the inside out. It was time to sever that connection by putting the fork down. Hitherto, I was afraid to see what I became over time. Once I started to see results, I became hooked by the visible changes. It was working!
I decided that the pleasure I would gain from making lasting physical changes to my body would outweigh the pain from giving up my favorite foods and beverages. For the first time, I began to plant seedlings of confidence in myself that I had what it took to make this work. Within the first month of eliminating sodas from my diet, I saw a physical change in my water retention–I no longer had that bloated soft look. While being nowhere near great shape, it was nice to be less chubby. I was still well overweight for my size, but the progress was very encouraging. Enough whereby I decided to keep moving forward with the changes. I had to see where this would all end up.
If I could eliminate sodas, and their cravings, what else could I change in my diet? And, how much more amazing would I look and feel if I made these changes sooner rather than later. After gaining more confidence in myself, I made it my mission to change my appearance for my Senior year of High School. The shy sheltered young man I was would remain, but instead of being chunky, he would be slimmer in time for the start of school. That was the idea. It was a sunburst in my mind! I visualized in my mind how I wanted to look and even how I wanted to feel. I made a promise to myself: to someday have a body like the men I would begin to idolize.
As a subscriber to GQ Magazine, I was well attuned to fashion, and what was in style for men. I wanted to keep up with all the latest trends because the trend is your friend. Up to that point, I subscribed to look at the fancy clothes I couldn’t afford and read the articles profiling influential men in our sphere–soaking up all I could to form my male identity. As a young man, when you grow up in a single parent household, raised by your mother, you tend to grab whatever you can from wherever you can to form your male identity.
GQ, among many other books and newsstand periodicals served as a guide for me to design my own blueprint.
During the Summer of 2001 as I read my way page by page, things were different. For the first time I paid serious attention to the male models advertising the clothes (more than a cursory glance). Turning those pages while on the couch drinking my cold water only inspired me further. With page after page of models sporting attire with prices I could not even wrap my head around, I noticed how tailored the clothes were to their body. I began to notice the “fit.” I took heed of it. Something clicked. My clothes never fit me. I wore them. They didn’t wear me. Nothing was ever contoured to my body because I was shaped like a blob. My clothes were always on the large side, to compensate for my ever-growing waist size. After seeing these men in impeccably tailored suits–all of them with flat midsections and toned arms and legs–I knew, this was the only way for me to look. No longer would shirts fit over me like a small parachute. Just by sitting on the couch analyzing those pages–I evolved. Just like that.
I no longer saw the purpose of wearing designer clothes that were ill fitting. My mother kept me in the nicest school clothes. She took pride in seeing to it that my brother and I were always clean. It was common for me to wear a polo shirt that cost no less than $60–many of them more than that. My closet was stuffed full of nice clothes that I now realized were too big for the new me. I made it my goal to see to it that I would need a new wardrobe. I never wanted to see myself in large or extra-large polo shirts again, knowing full well that I would look much better and more tailored in a smaller trimmer size closer to my natural bone structure. Being that I am not a large man, I no longer wanted to be forced to wear shirts that reached down to my knees. To look like the men in that magazine would require further drastic changes. But I was hooked on the results I was getting. After a month of getting my beverage consumption under control, I began to see what was possible. After weaning myself off sodas and committing myself to water, it was time to really kick things into gear.
The second change I decided to make was with my horrific eating habits (in particular my snacking). I declared there would be no more snacking on junk food. I cannot convey how drastic that was. While not as difficult as letting go of sodas, it came damn close. But given my recent success at conquering my addiction to sugary drinks, I knew that if I could go this far, I could go a little further.
I always tell myself that when things are hard–Just go a little bit further.
No one in my family could believe what I was doing all on my own under my volition. But I’d had it. I was NOT going to take being chubby anymore. I raised my personal standards. With the seeming precision of a working light switch, I was never the same after I stepped on the scale that day. It was instant change. And I was willing to sever all ties to foods I wasn’t just having an affair with, but was married to.
Snack time is fat time. All my coveted favorites had to go: Honey Buns, Cinnamon Rolls, Chocolate Chunk Cookies, Salt & Vinegar Potato Chips, Candy Bars, and Cookies & Cream Ice Cream. These were to be eliminated. From now on, snacking would consist of Apples, Oranges, and Bananas. When I wanted something sweet, these had to do. Another popular after school favorite of mine was pizza, but not delivery. For years, I would commonly get off the school bus, let myself in the house (for mom was at work), drop my books off on the couch, and preheat the oven immediately. Before long, a piping hot cheese pizza would ready itself for the ever-loving affection of my taste buds. Should you be thinking whether or not I considered after school pizza to be a snack, as opposed to a meal, you’d be right. So you can imagine what a “meal” would consist of. It is no wonder my weight kept going up, because here I was taking in all these calories and engaged in zero physical activity to burn them. My body was stockpiled with calories and carbs that weren’t being utilized. I would retire to my favorite couch and devour an entire pizza before starting homework. All of this had to stop, because when you know better, you must do better.
With the changes to my snacking, I was starting to see even more results over the course of that same summer. Some family members outside the home pointed out that I was dieting for the first time and were very proud of me for trying. What they didn’t realize is, I made the commitment to never again look or feel the way I used to. A diet is temporary. These changes I was bringing about through my eating habits would be permanent. I would wake up and see my body changing by the day. I was amazed. It was incredible to see myself shrinking and even more gratifying when others noticed the changes. I was hooked!
Changes were made at the drive-thru too. While I was not willing to give up fast food, I was able to wean myself away from habits I spent years cultivating. The immediate change I made at the drive-thru was to cut out all the double and triple burgers with fries and a soda. That was over. I flipped a switch and declared that I was not going to gorge in this manner any longer. I switched to ordering chicken sandwiches (grilled when possible), and upon eating them, I removed all the bread and threw it away. I would only consume the chicken patty or breast, with lettuce and a tomato. There would be no more fries covered in layers of salty grease. I would pass those on to my mother or brother who weren’t overweight. Since the fries and the soda and the bread on the sandwiches were out, to feel full, I would order 3 chicken sandwiches. I did not know what I was doing exactly, but it turns out that I was slashing my carbohydrate intake significantly, aggressively cutting my daily calorie intake from what it was. Despite not engaging in any form of physical exercise, for the first time since I was a first grader ( I was skinny as a very young kid), I was seeing my metabolism in action.
On some nights, when I was extra motivated, I started to go to bed hungrier than normal. I drew a connection between late night snacking on junk food, and weight gain. Before bed, I bordered on prolific snack consumption. I didn’t even have to be hungry. I just wanted the sugar. With my new way of doing things, I not only stopped my late night snacking, but I cut back on the portion sizes of my dinners. There would be no more “seconds.” Dinner was to be eaten by 9pm every night. After dinner, there would be no more food consumption. I only allowed myself water. If I felt any cravings I would drink a glass or two of water and that would always quell the craving. Sure, that’s not as tasty as a bowl of cookies & cream, but I also didn’t have to worry about being fatter by morning.
This was my thinking process. These are the messages I would tell myself over and over. Whenever any weakness creeped in, I stabilized myself and reminded myself why I was doing what I was doing. I did not need anyone to supervise me or hold me to account. I was my own merciless task master. In the next part, I will elaborate further. I went on to make some additional adjustments in my mind that boosted my efforts even more.
To be continued…
–Daniel Cousin
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