M.P.H.

... and no, I don't mean miles per hour. Common abbreviation, I know. What I want to portray, though, has nothing to do with speed - unless it's how fast I'm getting to the gym.
Mental and Physical Health. MPH.
I wish there were a speedometer for this kind of MPH.

What prompted today's post was something so trivial, something so ritualistic to anyone in the U.S. who has ever held a driver's license. I went to get my new license, and as everyone knows, you get a new picture taken.

I am overweight.

Now, dont' run away in a panic. This isn't a "woe is me, I'm so unpretty, I'll never be loved, I look horrible" cue-the-tears-and-dramatic-music. This is simply a reality check, mostly for my own benefit. I'm by no means obese. I'm a fully-functional, mobile young adult. But... I've gained a lot of weight, most of it in the last year. I am very unhappy with the way that I look right now - No, not in comparison to America's ideal woman, but compared to the way I've looked before. Summer of '08 I joined a jujitsu class, and I really got into shape for the first time in my life. I was toned, I felt great, and most importantly, my asthma was pretty well-controlled. That is, I could endure far more in my day-to-day life - I really only needed my inhaler during sparring sessions. It was AMAZING.

I kept up pretty well for a while even after having to drop the course due to school. And then my classes got harder. I dealt. I was OK.

And then people started dying.

I have come to realize that although I can combat stress-eating, I cannot resist grief-eating. It's too much of a knee-jerk response. I don't show grief well. Alan's the emotional one - I'm the strong, rational one. At least to save face. Maybe I seem cold. Either way, my sorrow gets stomped on, and I seal it up and move on. Who wants to deal with that? I don't. I have shit to do, stuff to finish. So... I ate. I ate pretty much anything available, because if I felt full I could feel "content." Or I had an upset stomach to worry about and could sleep away the world.

Unhealthy. I know that. You don't have to tell me. For a while, it was OK. I was still exercising, so it didn't take hold at first. Then everything went downhill. The funeral count was going up and then I got academic probation. Hoo boy.
I am 5'3" and I weigh almost 170 lbs.
I say almost because I don't have the guts to go weigh myself. It was a little under that when I was weighed at the end of last semester, when I had to go in for my ear infections.

I'm always at the upper end of my BMI - just the way I'm built. I won't starve myself to try to look like a model. But this is ridiculous. I was a solid 144 lbs when I took jujitsu - "overweight" by BMI standards but I was solid muscle and damn, I looked pretty good. I just want to get back there. I'm going to start tracking my MPH, and that's part of the reason I'm here, on my blog. The first step is admitting you have a problem.

The second step's a doozy.