That picture? That's me earlier today. Those fat rolls? Mine.
Anyway, this post isn't really about wallowing is my problems. Ok, it is just a little bit. It's about a tiny revelation that I had earlier today as I was eating, yes-forgive-me-I-confess-it, two Taco Bell burritos. I keep rationalizing the way I eat now as "the way I *have* to eat to make the rest of my current life possible." But what struck me today is that the way I'm eating now is robbing my future self of joy, of health, of happiness with grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
This next bit is something I've known for a while: my own struggle with food is a moral one. That isn't true for everybody. Some people are overweight -- despite the fact that they eat a balanced moderate diet -- because their metabolisms are slower than average, or because of genetics, or because of something else. In my case, however, a large part of my size is due to the fact that I have terrible self-discipline. It's led to all sorts of problems in my life: I procrastinate, and then have to pull all-nighters to finish important projects; those hastily-finished projects are poorly done; when the thing you do poorly is grade senior thesis papers, it hurts students and teachers alike; when you pull all-nighters, everything the next day suffers too; when people are waiting on you to turn in grades, they have to stay late at work when they should be home with family; etc.
My weight is the result of my trouble with doing the better but less-pleasant thing and denying some passing pleasure. It's not like I got fat eating large French meals with good company and fellowship. I mostly got fat because I would eat alone, munching on bags of salty snacks in my room or grabbing fast food in the car on my way to work. It's easier to order McDonald's breakfast than to go shopping, plan a menu, and get up 20 minutes earlier to cook and eat. Sleep, or watching another episode of Community, is more pleasant than navigating WinCo. Trying to be creative with food is harder than driving over and asking for one more Beefy Crunch Burrito.
I need to learn to see beyond the present. Spending twenty minutes now cooking a real dinner is harder than driving to some cheap junk-food shop, but spending my 50's feeling lousy and taking a gajillion pills is way harder than deciding to make my own lunch.
So I resolve, all over again, to quit sacrificing my future good to my present desire. This self-discipline thing is dang tough, but by God's grace I'll do better this next round.
