"The greater good", he told himself over and over again, is what needs to be of paramount consideration. "The greater good".
It could almost be considered his own private mantra, if multi-syllabic mantras were a thing.
The motivation behind his repetition of the short phrase was simple. He quite seriously believed his own brain was working against him, working to destroy the comfortable life he had worked hard to build, working to bring an end to what he considered his greatest accomplishment.
Which was, of course, the long, incredibly slow process of losing nearly 100 lbs in excess weight.
He had been motivated to make a change in not only his diet, but his lifestyle, by a single photograph. The picture had been taken by a friend almost two years ago and posted on a social network, and when a second friend had showed it to him he was horrified.
He could not believe how big he was in the picture, and took great offense to being referred to as "the natural choice to play Santa this year."
But he also realized the truth in the comment, and in the photograph.
And so he decided then and there that something had to be done, and that something was to engage in a war with his own brain.
For his own brain had been making decisions for an extremely long time that were not in the best interest of his corporeal being.
The first battle of the war had been the effort to get himself to stop eating such large quantities of food, and to make sure he engaged in daily activities that would justify the amount of food he did consume - the ol' "calories in, calories out" strategy.
His own brain fought that strategy tooth and nail, as his own brain always seemed to want more and more of everything, and to do less and less of anything.
For the first few months he didn't change a thing about his diet other than the amount of what he was consuming - he went from 24 chicken wings at a sitting to twelve, from six beers to three, from a pot of macaroni and cheese to a bowl.
Which took 35 pounds off him in that first few months, but then he hit a wall, plateaued if you will.
Which resulted in the second battle of the war, which involved asking for assistance with his diet (his own brain hated asking for assistance with anything, as his own brain thought it knew everything).
As chance would have it, the person he approached for help was a veteran of the same war, and explained to him that the wall he hit was common.
The solution was simple - it was not only how much you ate, it was also what you ate.
The person explained that the best approach to changing what he was eating from unhealthy to healthy was to make the change a gradual one, and as the person he asked was an avid snacker, he suggested making the change via snacks - little by little start substituting healthy snacks for the less-healthy ones.
Think about it as flying under the radar, he said. Fool his brain into thinking it wasn't being denied snacks when it wanted them by continuing to eat snacks, but instead of chips the snacks would be replaced by almonds or carrot sticks.
That worked for awhile, and another ten pounds were shed.
But then another plateau, and this time he knew what he was going to have to do. He was going to have to get off his lazy ass and start exercising in some fashion, even if was only going on a daily walk.
He started with just that, a short daily walk around the block.
The dog certainly appreciated this new development, and it wasn't long before his new regime resulted in another drop in his waistline (the third drop in five months).
The walks got longer, but that also had the effect of increasing his hunger, which gave the brain ammunition in the war that might reverse the result of the first battle, and a return to eating more of the foods he enjoyed could be devastating.
A conversation with the friend who had shared with him the strategy of replacing the unhealthy snacks with healthy snacks led to a further change in his diet. This change was simple, but revolutionary to him.
It entailed keeping a thorough account of exactly what he ate every day for one full week, and then reviewing each item and ascertaining exactly what needed to go and what could stay.
Which is what lead to the revelation that he was eating a whole lot more bread, pastry and pasta than he needed to be.
Bread was easiest thing to remove from his diet. He didn't even look for an acceptable substitute, he just quit eating it. No more English muffins with his eggs in the morning, no more buns with his hamburgers, no more grilled-cheese sandwiches.
Pastries & pasta were much more difficult to forego. The brain desired certain pastries and pastas with a gluttonous passion.
He engaged in much research as to the different types of pastries and pastas he consumed and what they were made of, then gradually eased into gluten-free varieties, which placated his brain's desire for them.
This resulted in another twenty pound drop in his weight over a two month period, which brought his total weight loss down to 70 pounds over the past 9 months.
He was elated with that, but he also knew it wasn't enough to win the war. The war would only be won when he had lost 100 pounds, not 70, or 80, or 90.
Medals are not given out for the runner with the fastest time in the first 3/4's of a race, only for the fastest time over the entire course.
That meant he was going to have to give up the one thing he knew was going to result in the biggest battle with his brain.
Beer.
Beer was the brain's favorite, more so than macaroni and cheese (real macaroni, not cauliflower macaroni) or glazed fritters. Wresting beer away from the brain would take everything he had.
He had been able to reduce his beer intake from a full case to a half rack each week, but he knew that was not good enough - drinking a half rack of beer a week was akin to eating three loaves of bread a week (he was a stout guy who drank stout beer...).
The battle was a tough, daily struggle, but one day at a time he managed to win it, and the morning finally came when he stepped on a scale...and bingo, the numbers almost shouted out "Victory!". He had won the war with his brain.
And that is why he was currently internally chanting "The greater good! Think of the greater good!"
For he was on a date, the first date he had been on in over a year, and his date was smart, fun, funny, beautiful and dressed to at least maim.
He found himself entranced. Not because the conversation flowed naturally, not because her eyes were a perfect shade of azure blue, not because her hair shined as if it were spun gold silk, not because her upper lip was a plump Cupid's bow, and certainly not because her generous cleavage was exaggerated by the low cut of her dress.
None of that held his attention like what the waiter had just placed in front of her.
A large plate of baked ziti smothered in a creamy parmesan bechamel sauce...with a pint of his favorite Irish stout
His will was being tested to it's limits. He was sure he was visibly trembling.
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