It has been a while since I’ve posted about my race for less of me. I definitely ran into some trouble, I had stopped seeing negative numbers, not that I was seeing positive ones, I just wasn’t gaining or losing. People had said that it was just my plateau, however, I think I have to disagree. The wall I hit was me, I relaxed how closely I was watching what I eating, there were defintely some days when I didn’t enter a complete day’s worth of food and other days when I didn’t enter anything at all. After a little self-recorrection, I think I’m back on track.
I was surprised this morning. I came in at 258.5 pounds. When I first saw that, all I saw was the ‘eight,’ and I though, “how the hell could I have gained almost 7 pounds over night? After a closer examination, I saw that it was “58” not “68” I was literally standing on the scale in all my glory, staring at my feet saying, “wow.” However, being the skillful pessimist that I am, I didn’t believe. All the possibilities ran through my head, “Maybe you weren’t on the scale all the way. Maybe you were accidentally leaning against something. Maybe the scale is in one of the grooves of the linoleum.” It’s funny how I instantly go through every possible option besides: “I lost the weight.” So I weighted myself again: 258.5 pounds. After that I’m starting to believe. I went through my routine, took my shower, got my contacts in, and just to triple-check, I weighed myself again: 258.5 again. Now I’m a believer. I’m starting to take on the feeling of doing something good and being proud of myself. I think I’ve been resisting that because I have always had the sneaking suspicion that when I start to be proud of myself, that’s when I let myself slip. But I’ve never done anything like this before, so hopefully I’m beyond that.
Sadly, I had a whole post in already in draft form in my head about when I hit 260 pounds. I was going to post a picture of my license and say: “I am now offically my license weight, I have never actually been my license weight. My license weight was a lie, but I finally made an honest license out of it.” …But, I went right through 260, thankfully. However, once again, my license is a liar, for the first time in my life, my license says I weigh more than I actually do. Personally, I think that’s certain shade of awsome.
In other “repetitious self-congratulations”: Yesterday was the last day for seniors at CGHS. I had a lot of my students that I’ve taught come through, say goodbye and take pictures… which was great. Even my football players came by to make a couple of last jokes and give a hug (with the “man-slap” on the back, of course). But what really touched me was that there were a lot of students I had never coached or taught that came to say goodbye to me, to give a hug and take a group picture with. These were just kids that I had just casually talked to in the halls once in a while, or I knew them through one of their friends. Apparently, I had made a big enough impression that they wanted me to know. As sappy as it sounds, that was really important for me, it makes me feel as though I’m doing a good job and that I make a difference even if I don’t see them in my classroom or on the football field.
I think I’m pretty lucky to have my job.
Well, say good-bye to it, this will be the last time it will be seen in public. That’s right, I’m breaking my license today and hopefully getting a new one. I think I’ve shifted away from this particular look. So, let’s get all of the jokes out, because the next time I get ID’ed, the picture will be presentable… well, as presentable as this face can be. Knock your self out, folks, have at it.
Well, it’s official, the state of Oregon has entrusted me with the fragile, sponge-like minds of tomorrow’s generations. As of today, I am an officially licensed teacher. Scary, ain’t it?Eugene Moment:
While waiting to see John Edwards on Campus, this guy walks up in front of me, wearing a dark green sweatpants, with a light green sweatshirt wrapped around his waste, topped off with sandals and socks. After two minutes, he turns to me and asks why I’m at the rally. I said, to hear John Edwards. He says, “hmmm. ok ok. hmm.” turns back around, tapping all ten of his finders on his jaw. At this point, I knew this was going to be another memorable interaction. Thirty seconds later, he turns around and asks, “so… you support this guy.” I said that I do. He said, “oh, ok… support him, support him.” This is the mode of conversation for the next fifteen minutes, ranging in topics from my degree (he was repeated tens of times that I was in my second year of grad school) and to my family. He correctly discerned that I was originally from Oregon–to which he repeated in a Rainman-ish way, “definitely not from Germany”… thought, I assure you, this man was not Autistic. Eventually, he was trying to figure out what I was going to school for, he said, “I’m just trying… trying… to…” I chimed in, “compute?” He lit up, “Ah ha! Are you a Bill Gates?” and added, “don’t worry, I’m not the CIA, but I like puzzles.” I made the mistake of saying that I would hope that I was more of an enigma–which sent him on more of a World War II, Deutschland rant.
Luckily Meagan showed up and I had a good reason to move away from “Michael” which he openly said was a pseudonym, stating that I should think of his last name as “Anonymous”.
I’m really going to miss this town.