Why Joining A Gym Will Make Me Fat

It's a semi-little known secret that once upon a time not so many years ago I weighed just slightly over 200 pounds. At a height of five foot nine inches tall, this weight would fall under an 'obese' rating on most BMI (Body Mass Index) scales. I should disclaim that this weight was the absolute highest weight I ever weighed myself at, and it is very likely that it was not an entirely accurate measurement. Ideally, I imagine that my actual weight was somewhere in the realm of 210 to 215 pounds. Obviously this is nothing to scoff at, but I am attempting to acknowledge the discrepancy. Of course, this is not the reason that I'm writing today. The truth of the matter is that over the course of about a year and a half I was able to lose roughly eighty pounds, lowering my weight to a range of anywhere from 135 to 145 pounds. This range continues to be my average currently, and the maintenance thereof a conscious effort in my day-to-day routine.

For the first time in almost five years I find that delicate struggle to maintain a healthy weight and healthy practices in jeopardy and tonight while I mercilessly packed away sugary snack after sugary snack, I deduced precisely the culprit -- joining a gym. Let it be clear that for the better part of four years, exercise has been a key facet of my lifestyle. Whenever possible, I have made an effort to run at least two miles a day. Additionally, I throw in a moderate number of push-ups and sit-ups whenever and wherever possible. The important thing to note in this is that while running is important to keeping my weight low, diet and portion sizes have been tantamount not only to the initial loss of weight but the sustained maintenance over time. The reason portion size and the particulars of my diet are so essential lies within the admission that while I now have what many would consider a slender build, at heart food is an overriding passion. Whereas a normal human being will eat that which they find tasty and subsequently stop when they feel full, I find myself eating for the pleasure derived from the flavors and diversity available at any given time. In simpler terms; I'm a fat kid at heart.

As many former "fat kids" can attest, the paranoia that one day they could return to their robust glory is almost enough to stem all the bad habits and tendencies towards excess they may otherwise indulge. I would happily count myself among this demographic, and while I will not claim that my life is any happier than it was when I was overweight, I will admit a powerful urge to not revert to such a state. This past January, I took it upon myself to enroll at the local YMCA in an attempt to continue running and exercising regularly in the usually dormant winter months. Having never been a proper member of a legitimate fitness center since my newfound embracing of a healthier lifestyle, I assumed that having easy access to a fitness establishment would push my exercise routine to untold heights. The truth, as it were, is a much more complicated affair.

I refer now back to the idea that one of the motivating factors in remaining in shape after years of being otherwise is a fear of going back. Regularly going to a gym is a unique experience. The rush and satisfaction of pushing your body's limits and getting stronger and more fit is second to almost none in the list of life's personal accomplishments. The more time and effort put into a gym, though, the more you begin to feel impervious. Thus was the case as far as I am concerned. As the first months of increased physical exercise came to a close, a new feeling of security washed over me. I must be clear that 'security' as I use it here is not meant in a safe and comforting manner equal to the security felt surrounded by loved ones. Instead, this 'security' was one in which the idea that I could ever return to being out of shape seemed an impossibility to me. Truthfully, with the amount of exercise I do on a normal trip to the gym the idea is almost justified. Almost any amount of regular food intake should plausibly be burned away under the rigors of a strenuous workout. The problem of course is twofold. Firstly, it would be unwise to assume that a moderate amount of exercise is excuse enough to stop avoiding sugary snacks or foods containing loads of empty calories that the body cannot properly utilize. Secondly, it would seem I had forgotten the fact that without the focus of concern of the things I ate, I subconcsiously began eating whatever I felt like. Essentially, the gym became my excuse to eat whatever, whenever I wanted.

And so I find myself at a crossroads. I am nowhere near what any rational mind would consider "out of shape", yet I have a weary mind towards the prospect I'm slowly losing the temperance with myself necessary to keep my less desirable habits in check. I do acknowledge the fact that since joining the gym my own fitness level has steadily risen, but it is at the cost of judicious eating habits. And so I find myself wondering if there are others out there with the same predicament. Every day I see people at the gym who are slightly on the heavier side, who seem to push themselves even harder than I do and yet week after week I observe no differences in them. Of course, this is complete conjecture on my part and for all I know the differences are vast yet imperceptible to me due to frequent exposure. Regardless, for the first time in four years I find myself asking if heightened physical activity is the best course of action. Is it possible that memberships to fitness establishments in general carry an air of freedom to ignore otherwise unhealthy habits? Does the knowledge that one belongs to an overwhelmingly identifiable bastion of health cast a blind gaze towards the fact all other outlets of one's life are the opposite? I am personally puzzled by the thought and while I do not yet have the answer, I hope that somehow the mere fact I can rationalize the thought is a sign that I am that much closer to an answer.

Consider for a moment instances in your own life in which you purposefully do something that should represent something overwhelmingly positive in order to justify a much more damaging and negative behavior? Personally I think it's a sign of the human condition and our ability to sabotage ourselves without even knowing it. It goes a long way towards informing personal insight, regardless of how it manifests in your life.