Bad Boyfriends and Why I Can Suddenly Write Again





Five years ago I was a size 6-8. Two years ago, a 10-12. Today, 14-16. And for a while there, the 16 was tight. I'm finally starting to lose again, because I'm finally "in the zone," that head space you have to achieve before you can make the lifestyle choices necessary for losing weight.

I'll be 50 in two months. I've been in and out of the zone for 35 years, and I still haven't figured out what puts me in the zone or what takes me out of it.  I've been gaining and losing the same 30-40 pounds since I was fifteen. They say it's very unhealthy to yo-yo like that, but I can't resign myself to remaining 40 pounds overweight, so I keep losing it. Then gaining it again.

Do you watch Doctor Who? If so, do you recall the Adipose episode ("Partners in Crime")? If not -- the Adipose are aliens made of human body fat.  For a long time I've thought of my disappearing/recurring 30-40 pounds as a bad boyfriend; after I saw the Adipose episode the first time, I finally had a image to go with the metaphor:

Don't let the cuteness fool you: the Adipose Boyfriend is an insidiously evil mofo. It takes you months, sometimes years, to kick him out of your life. You have to do it incrementally: You see him less and less often; you try to spend time with other guys, guys who are better for you; you avoid places where you expect him to show up. The less time you spend with him, the better you feel about yourself. Friends tell you how much happier and healthier you look now that you've dumped him.

But somehow, some way, the little bastard always figures out how to get back in.

At first, you only see him occasionally. You can flirt a little, maybe a peck on the cheek, then wave bye bye and go back to the Good Boyfriend. Then he shows up on a Saturday night when Good Boyfriend is out of town. Then you start to get bored with Good Boyfriend, and Adipose Boyfriend comes around more often. He "forgets" his wallet, or his car keys, or his phone or his dog.

Next thing you know, he's taking his mail at your place and he's falling asleep on the couch every night and you don't know quite how he got back in.

So. Operation Break Up has commenced for the umpteenth time and I'm feeling really good. I've even managed to kick Diet Coke, which I've done more often than Charlie Sheen has fucked hookers or Keith Richards has overdosed.

I bet Nora Roberts doesn't have an Adipose Boyfriend. Nora doesn't need to get in the zone to write and I bet she doesn't need to get in the zone to lose weight--she's got enough self-discipline to avoid falling out of the zone in the first place.

I've always aspired to Nora's Theory of Writing: There is no muse, there is only the work. Hands on keyboard, butt in chair, just get to it.

But just like when losing weight--for me, at least--I have to get in the zone to write. At the moment, I'm in the zone. I need to figure out how to stay there--for writing, for weight loss, for everything.