I've written before about weight loss, and how I think one of the main keys is to normalise one's relationship with food; to make it less "loaded". I say this, not because I think I've achieved it -- I still have far to go -- but because I can see that that relationship is the thing that makes the most difference. All the difference, maybe.
The other day, two people said to each other, in front of me and about me, "how does he stay so thin?" and "it's all the running he does". I didn't argue; It would have been rude. Actually, I had just lost a few pounds in the couple of weeks before that, and I lost it because I was running less, because I'd had a nasty cough and cold. But you can't tell people that. Exercise is a wonderful thing, it makes you feel good, it makes you healthier, and it can help with weight loss. But the more I run, the harder it is to lose weight. I've had several times of lots of running, and several times of significant weight loss, and the two have never coincided.
Yesterday I was at a work Christmas lunch with the engineering team. I was doing well. I had one drink and then stopped, because I had to drive. There were bread rolls on the table. I didn't automatically eat mine just because it was there and it was mine. I decided I didn't want it. That's big.
But opposite me was Steve, a man who, as it happens, I greatly admire, and who is also an archetypal "thin man". And I suddenly realised that, when the waiters were bringing the starters, and again when they were bringing the main courses, and asking "who was having the turkey" and so on, Steve wasn't noticing when they were handing out the thing he'd ordered. He was sitting with an empty space in front of him; he'd ordered turkey (let's say); the waiter was standing right behind him with the last plate of turkey looking around and shouting "who else was having turkey?" -- and he wasn't noticing. I've never in my life done that. I couldn't not be aware of it. Amazing.
I've managed, usually, to let go of constant thoughts about how soon they'll serve it, whether mine will come first or last, whether the plateful will be enough, and so on. But I am still keeping an eye on the waiters and the food. If I've ordered soup, and the waiters are saying "who was for soup", I am going to notice. For Steve to sit there like that, genuinely unaware, and for people to have to nudge him and say "is that yours", is such a deep reminder of the difference between the thin mind and my mind. I have far to go before I'll ever need nudging and having it pointed out to me that my plateful has arrived.
