Weight Loss Tip Booklet - 151 Simple Ideas

I am a perfect-o-holic.

Sure, I know it’s folly; yet I can picture that magical happy place where all goes according to plan and everything works out as I imagined. I have a plan.

Today, I become the pinnacle of modern workplace efficiency. Without exception, every single solitary item on my to-do list will be accomplished — even those lingering on the pad since ‘07. Phone calls will be returned in a timely, upbeat, eager manner, complete with all the necessary and required information at hand. Today, every goal will be exceeded; every deadline shall be beat. Should I spot a customer, client, co-worker, or vendor, I shall stretch out a warm enthusiastic hand in friendship, greeting her with passion, warmth, and energy; developing the ultimate positive reputation. Today, all reports will be finished on time and with precision. Today, the five-year backlog of filing shall be ended. Facebook farm games, really cute cat videos on YouTube, and forwarded emails with titles like “LOL! OMG! You’ve got to see this!” shall not deter me from my mission. I am a rock. (I shall be so effectual that I will have even had enough spare time to properly arrange my computer’s desktop icons in perfect order. After all, I owe it to myself to have some fun.)

Moreover, I will not ignore my most important relationship. Mark this date; for it is when I became the perfect spouse. Should my loving wife require assistance, no matter what else I am doing, I shall immediately — sans attitude, of course — cease all other pursuits, and lavish upon her all the attention she so richly deserves. As illustration of how central is our shared life, I will make time to clean the bathroom, prepare dinner, wash the dishes, pay the bills, and even massage her aching feet, expecting nothing in return. Today, I am the perfect husband.

To achieve these lofty goals, I must reserve time for me, for should I falter, all who depend on me will be let down. Therefore, I shall rise with sufficient time to allow for hours of meditation and soul centering. After which, I shall adorn myself in a made-in-the-U.S.A. fashionable, waterproof, breathable, sweat suit with state-of-the-art walking gear. To which, I will attach a heart monitor, fire up some inspirational music, grab the walking weights, and tread briskly for miles; assuring my heart rate remains in its ultimate target range the entire time.

Upon returning home, I shall shower in purified, alkaline, ionized microwater, and then prepare the most important meal of the day. My healthy breakfast consists entirely of 100% organic, all natural, unprocessed, non-fat, free-range, locally grown, high-fiber foods. Further ensuring complete balance, I masticate each morsel 32 times, one for each tooth.

This will be my new dawn, my genesis, my beginning. All will be perfect!

Before the rooster crows, I am gently roused by my ascending, progressive, Tibetan chime, Zen alarm. Noticing the early hour, the stars against the dark night sky, and picturing all I will accomplish this perfect day in perfect order — I jerk my certified organic ivory-colored, imported, Egyptian cotton blanket over my head, slam the snooze button, muttering, “Yick, there’s always tomorrow,” just like I did yesterday.

A thought crosses my somnolent synapses, “Maybe, this all-or-nothing attitude is overwhelming and holding me back? Would I be more productive if I set more realistic goals?”

Pondering the revelation, I realize that if I did, I’d actually have to change. Why would I do that when everything’s perfect?

About the author:  Scott “Q” Marcus is a professional speaker and the CDO of www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com, a website for people and organizations who are frustrated with making promises and are ready to make a change. Sign up for his free newsletter at www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com or friend him at facebook.com/thistimeimeanit. He is also available for coaching and speaking engagements at 707.442.6243 or scottq@scottqmarcus.com

Building supportive relationships

In the end, we are remembered via the relationships we leave behind.

I stand five-eight, no one’s depiction of “towering giant.” Someone of my stature is supposed to tip the scales at no more than 165 pounds. When I was 39 years old, I weighed 250. More frightening was that at such an early age, I experienced chest pains with regularity. As a father for two young sons, I was a ghost. My career was in free fall; my 12-year marriage was in tatters. (When your marriage counselor suggests divorce lawyers, the odds for regaining your long-lost marital bliss are slim.)

Change is born of fear, force, or pain. No one wakes up one fine day and says, “Wow! I really love my life; how am I going to change it?” Rather, unhappy, dissatisfied, and overwhelmed, we resolve to do virtually anything to alter our circumstances; anywhere is better than here.

For me, that conclusion came late one night, sitting alone yet again, pondering sorrowfully the source of my life’s despair. Out of that sadness came the painful realization that the common bond among all my troubles was ME. It was ME who relinquished the reins of my life, it was ME who helped build a dysfunctional marriage, and it was ME who chose to stuff myself, medicating the hurt by eating instead of fixing it. Therefore, if anyone was going to transform my life, it too must be ME.

On stressful days, instead of eating, I started walked. I saw a therapist and I attended weight loss meetings. With such support, I learned to focus on what was triggering the urge to eat and avoid it, rather than lamenting the unhealthful decision when it was a fait de compli. Reacting differently created calm and peace, which in turn lowered the desire to “medicate,” therefore causing weight loss and its resultant health and happiness.

My wife, noticing my enhanced outlook (and shrinking waistline) probed, “You’re planning on leaving me, aren’t you?”

I replied — honestly, “No. My plan is to become healthy. My sincere hope is you’ll come with me — but I am going either way.”

In the end, she opted not to.

When we alter our lives, step one is a conscious decision to do so. That’s obvious. In our newfound zeal, what is less apparent is that the choices we make not only affect us, but all with whom we interact; children, co-workers, spouses, partners, and friends; to name a few. Equally true is that their timetables and needs might be dissimilar from our own; and they might not necessarily be ready, willing, or desirous of pursuing that same objective. Some will choose to support us. Others will slow our progress, while still others will leave us.

The sometimes-painful adjustments we make to achieve our true potential are not excuses to avoid doing what must be done. Yet they remind us that being healthy also means being aware of the impact our decisions have on those we care about. It is a sad reality that relationships come — and sometimes they do go. The better ones remain for long periods while others of less consequence exist so briefly, we don’t even remember we had them.

As I told my children, “Compassion always; but don’t be confused, the price of giving up your dreams is higher than the cost of letting go of painful relationships. That said, do what you can to repair them before you let them go. Other people are involved.”

About the author:

Scott “Q” Marcus is a professional speaker and the CDO of www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com, a website for people and organizations who are frustrated with making promises and are ready to make a change. Sign up for his free newsletter at www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com or friend him at facebook.com/thistimeimeanit. He is also available for coaching and speaking engagements at 707.442.6243 or scottq@scottqmarcus.com.

If deprivation was a successful weight loss strategy, obesity would be obliterated.

At first blush, sacrificing one’s favorites appears like it would blast away those extra pounds, and it does — but only temporarily. Long-term, it’s unnatural and ineffective.

Oh, sure, we can sacrifice our pet foods for brief periods. However, let’s face it, as the joke goes, seven days of bland makes one weak. Without variety, we get bored. Take away our special beloved “fun foods” and we give up, sometimes in horrifying ways.

As example, I decide to implement a new “healthy me lifestyle change,” a complete makeover of my insalubrious habits. My wife, ever the obliging supportive spouse; agrees to assist, so we commence a routine evening stroll. The weather is agreeable, walking burns calories, and the time allows us to re-connect after hectic workdays.

Along the route lies a small pizzeria. I am wise in the ways of weight loss and I know from unfortunate past experience, that the blend of salt, several varieties of cheese, as well as toasted doughy goodness, makes it problematic for me to lose weight. Therefore, I have sworn an oath of “pizza abstinence” until the scale reflects 15 fewer pounds. I am proud to announce that so far, all is going well. I’ve been “pizza-free” for well over three hours.

Fate however can be a cruel mistress and the gentle breeze this evening brings upon it a warm cheesy waft of mozzarella and garlic. As Ulysses being lured by the Sirens, my wife grabs tighter my hand, the rope attempting to bind me to the mast. Unhappily, she is not composed of wood and twine and I tear loose, hotfooting frenziedly into the eatery, no longer able to manage my impulse.

That’s when things got fuzzy.

Although I do not recall the incident after that moment, I am informed by my lawyer that the SWAT team pulled me from atop the front, shaking a terrified 19-year-old clerk by the lapels, flop-sweat streaming from my brow, spaghetti sauce dripping from my lips, while shrieking “Extra cheese, more pepperoni, and three pounds of garlic sticks — and no one gets hurt!”

Okay, I exaggerated (my demand was only two pounds of garlic sticks) but many a well-intentioned dieter has been kicked to the curb by an unexpected overwhelming urge for verboten foodstuffs.

The reality is that over-eating is an addiction; it might be  “small-A addiction,” but in many cases, it can be as debilitating as drugs or alcohol (and the societal cost is far greater). The difference is that with other addictions, one can go cold turkey. It might not be easy and one might need the support of others. Yet, a line in the sand can be drawn and never again crossed.

Food is obviously different. We need to learn to control our intake and to get away from the black/white, good/bad, on/off diet mentality. Thin people eat pizza. They eat chocolate too. Pay attention and you’ll even observe folks with a healthy waistline engaging in a bag of tortilla chips or a large scoop of ice cream. The reason they’re thin — and some of us are not — is that they don’t freak out about what they eat. Should they overindulge, they adjust by eating less or exercising more. For them, it’s habit. For the rest of us, it takes some thought, but anything of value usually does.