I'm fat. There, I've said it. I might even be obese. I'm not sure how many pounds overweight you have to be for that classification, but I'm up there.
The readings today smacked me in the head: Jeremiah and the stiff-necked, back-turning, hard-hearted people. The gang that are so stubbornly unwilling to accept Jesus as the messiah that they credit the Devil for saving a man from possession. The truth was right there in front of all of them, but it was so much more convenient to believe something else.
So who is to blame for my girth? Everyone but me!!!!
Nah, just kidding.
Let's try it again. Who is to blame? Me. Myself. I.
This may be a no-brainier, but living alone requires discipline in a lot of ways, especially with regards to eating habits. I'm not a victim of corporate fast food. No one held me down and jammed White Castles down my throat against my will. I wasn't lured into McDonald's because of the promise of a cute toy in a Happy Meal. It's not about the parishioners who bake for events and then insist I take the uneaten cakes back to the rectory (I even considered lying and telling them I'm a diabetic, but then they'd just make the same cakes with Splenda). It's not because of my workload or meetings. It's because of "What I have done (ate junk) and what I have failed to do (exercise)". Where have I heard that before?
I got myself where I am. Arriving at that conclusion may not seem like much of an accomplishment from your point of view, but for me this was like getting knocked off of the horse on the road to Damascus (or maybe scales falling from my eyes, I'm not sure). No more stubbornness. No more excuses why.
I write this so that I can't hide from it. You who have known me for years have known this and, God love you, you've been more than polite in not saying what is totally obvious.
I will do this myself, but I seek your help. No, not money. Accountability. Feel free to ask, "Exercised today?", or, "When was the last time you had fast food?".
There you go. Brutal honesty on the internet. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to congratulate myself with a donut. No, not really. Wouldn't that be sad?
