Looking back on my experiment last year, on the one hand you could call it a failure.  I set a goal, made progress toward it and then fell back into old habits and lost my initiative.  I ended the year at 218 lbs, just 6 below where I started the year and 13 above my low point for the year.  But on the other hand, I had the first three months of last year where I did have the initiative and felt good about my progress.  As I start this new year, I am a bit wiser.  I know for instance that if I consume just 1900 calories a day and exercise regularly, I will lose weight - at least down to 205 lbs, which feels really good.  I plan to do that.  Also, I have enjoyed this process of writing and then receiving comments and support.  It has opened  a creative part of my life that I believe is important and want to continue.  I know some people are worried about the Mayan calendar and the world coming to an end.  In my case, I view it as a new beginning and a chance to start again.

One afternoon recently I took a break from my work to go buy a healthy drink from the CVS.  These days I am partial to a blueberry one  - very refreshing.  Mindful that these types of "healthy" drinks can come loaded with extra calories I try to drink half one day and the rest the next.  

On this day as I walked to the store my route took me by a truck out of which were being sold cupcakes.  The truck was painted an attractive  pink and the business  had a catchy name which I have already forgotten.  It should have been called Conspicuous Cupcakes by the way I was drawn to it like a siren.  We have a lot of these types of trucks in the City where I work, each selling some different type of specialty food.  I really like the concept that you can try something different and you know it is only there for a limited time, which makes it all a bit edgy, like you are both getting away with something.  

Cupcakes have been "hot" lately, with a couple of  different gourmet stores opening in my neighborhood.  I asked the guy in the truck what he had.  Red velvet, carrot cake, one with a perfect little cookie on top and his personal favorite, something something called smores  to name a few.  It was $4 per cupcake, but being a sucker for a bargain, I asked for a variety of 6 for $15.  When I looked down at the plastic box I now held in my hand, I could not say the cupcakes looked as amazing as I had imagined when I first saw the truck.  Still, I liked to support local businesses and maybe they would be.  Maybe they would live up to their promise and fulfill all my hopes and dreams and provide me eternal happiness.  

As a man on a mission, I continued on to CVS to buy my drink.  By the time I came out of the CVS and had more time to think,  I realized I had made a mistake.  I realized I would rather have my $15 back and now what was I going to do with six glorified cupcakes?

We all know one good turn deserves another and  I decided to give them away to my unsuspecting colleagues, making myself appear generous all the while.  As I entered the building I spied the woman who works behind the security desk in the afternoons.  She and I exchange pleasantries each evening as I leave the building, commenting about the weather, the impending  weekend  or what not.  Do I really know her?  She calls me Sir, as the situation requires, but I do not honestly know her name.  I approached her smiling.  "Would you like a cupcake?"  I ask, going on to explain their origins.  She perused my offering and carefully selected Smores one.  Her gracious thanks ringing in my ears.  I entered the elevator to continue upstairs and complete my mission.  

Once on my floor I next offered one to my youngest colleague.  She, too, thanked me and took one, but I thought I noticed a momentary hesitation cross her face.  What conflict passed there, I did not ask, but moved on down the hall to a new colleague.  She as busy, but invited me in, and seemed interested in hearing the story behind the cupcakes.  She too, chose one (the one with the cookie) and thanked me, but her face seemed to question what transaction had just taken place.  The next person I offered one to, a man, quickly assessed the situation and said no thanks.  Noticing his pause, I began to wonder if this might be harder than I thought.  Then I passed a colleague's office who is pregnant.  She looked slightly tired and chose the red velvet one, perhaps happy for a momentary distraction.  The next woman I asked said they looked good.  As she chose hers, she confided to me that she planned to eat only half of it that day and would save the rest for later.  

On my way back to my office, an impulse caused me to stop by a woman's office who I know least.  From one of our few conversations I knew that one of her hobbies is dancing and indeed, she has a dancer's lithe body.  As she understood what I was offering she said, "No thanks, I can't", but her eyes said more.  Her eyes looked slightly horrified, as though I had just offered her heroin.  I mean no disrespect to heroin addicts.  I saw the movie Ray so I have some idea of how powerful that addiction can be and how hard it is to overcome.  But was I not selling another form of white powder, also powerful - sugar and flour?  Suddenly,  I saw my part in this transaction.  What depths of human depravity was I capable of?  What was I pushing?  My impulse to buy cupcakes off the street how now been transmuted into a sick business.

Reeling, I staggered back down the hall.  My god, what was I capable of?  Like someone who has been in a car accident, I cannot account for the fifth cupcake.  There must have been another victim along the way.  All I can tell you is that I did not eat it.  As I drank half of my blueberry drink, it tasted wonderful and satisfying.  

Those of you who are careful about details are wondering what happened to the sixth cupcake.  I did what any gutless pusher would do.  I set the container out on the counter of our work's communal kitchen, a signal that it was available for anyone who wanted to take it.  There is a wall separating my office from that kitchen so I could not see what happened next.  But within a few minutes I heard the telltale sounds of a plastic carton being opened.  The person who ate the last cupcake dutifully washed the plastic carton and put it in the recycling bin, a good corporate citizen to the end.  

Was it someone who initially refused, giving way to a deep seated conflict?  I will never know.  I do not want to know.  I can tell you that I got an e-mail from the woman who planned to eat only half her cupcake.  She thanked me again and confessed she had eaten the whole thing.  It did not make me feel better.  The following day there were many follow up conversations about the cupcakes, where had I gotten them, why had I given them away?

What have I learned from this experience besides that cupcakes are wildly overpriced and do not deliver on their promise of remembered childhood satisfaction?  That like me, others who I might not even suspect struggle with a complex relationship with food and weight.  For myself, I realize I need to directly own my wishes and accept responsibility for them rather than act them out on or through others.  I do not wish to make the world a fatter place.    Finally, I would say a cupcake is just a cupcake, and frankly, it is not that good.       

I went to yoga today for the first time in weeks.  A combination of preference for tennis and a recurring schedule conflict has conspired against my regular practice.  Although it is only Yoga 1 and I am no yogi, it was clear as I moved into my first downward dog that I had lost whatever mojo, limited flexibility I had previously gained.  My shoulders rebelled in pain and my arms shook.  I wondered once again if I could make it through the whole class.  Fortunately, even by Yoga 1 standards, this was to be a light class, almost as if the instructor knew I needed to ease back in.  

At the beginning of each class she invites us to silently set an intention. Mine today was to maintain an awareness of my breathing and to have integrity with my body.  In other words, to honor where I am now.  A couple of middle aged women to my left were obviously new to yoga.  I saw them struggling to master the positions and do them "right".  The younger woman to my right has sometimes substituted as the instructor for the class.    Her positions are "perfect" and she appears to be deep within her practice.  It is a thing of beauty to watch her flexibility and fluidity of movement.  I realize that I am positioned correctly, near the beginners, but more comfortable in my knowledge of my imperfection.  At the end of class, dripping with sweat from my exertions and breathing deeply, I realize  for these few minutes I have been true to my intention.

As mentioned recently, one of the more positive things CC has done is to continue to exercise semi-regularly, therefore, maintaining some semblance of cardio-vascular health.  That is why when I first heard about an upcoming 8K race a couple of months ago the idea of it intrigued me.  When I jog for exercise it is typically 2-3 miles.  A few times I have tried to run home from work which is 4 miles with the last part steep up hill, that  I find very challenging.  Therefore, a 5 mile race seemed just challenging enough.  Could I do it?

Whatever happened to the Conspicuous Consumer you may have wondered?  He has not written for awhile.  Those of you who are optimistic types may have hoped for the best, imagining the CC getting thinner, maximizing his health, flying away like a little bird leaving the nest.  Unfortunately, you would be wrong.  Silence, in this case, is not golden.  When the Conspicuous Consumer is well..inconspicuous, a better bet is that something is being hidden or an undesirable behavior is going on.  I am sorry to report that much of my hard earned progress gained earlier in the year, or rather lost, has been given up.  If it were the Civil War you could say that battles occurred up and down Virginia and the South moved briefly into Maryland and Pennsylvania.  Did it happen overnight?  No, it was bite by bite.  You could say, "no one was minding the store"  or "the owner went away on holiday".  The truth is not so black and white.  In general, in the time I have been away I have continued to exercise, if somewhat sporadically.  I have continued to eat healthy food, just too much of it.  Sure there have been a few chinks in the armor, like recently when I made a pan of brownies "for my family" and bought half a gallon of Breyer's vanilla ice-cream and fudge sauce "for guests", all to be a good host now.  And somehow it worked out that I was the main one eating this happy combination.  And since there were leftovers, for several nights in a row I had to take care of those as well so there would be no waste.  Maybe the results are black and white.  Today when I stepped on the scales they said 218 lbs.

In this never ending political season, commentators like to use the term red meat.  The image conjurs a pack of dogs excitedly devouring a bloody shank.  Not too far removed from my canine brethren, I too, enjoy the taste of meat whether it be a steak (medium rare please) or a juicy burger.  The question is does it like me?  Perhaps it is a function of growing older, but I find my body does not process red meat as well as it used to and it creates certain indelicate responses which it is best not to go into here.  I have already described the moral dilemma I face (in fact we should all face) when I consume any type of meat produced in a Concentrated Animal Feeding Operation (CAFO), which is 99% of the meat sold in the average American grocery store.  When I say face, what I really mean is I hear a little nagging voice inside my head reminding me that once again I am not living according to my values which I then ignore.  

For religious reasons, lately a friend of mine has been fasting.  I respect her commitment.  There was one day where she went 24 hours without eating or drinking anything.  She said going without food made her weak.  She realized she needed to conserve energy and therefore was less active.  She chose to do more difficult mental tasks early in the day knowing it would become harder to think later on without food.  We talked a little bit about why one would fast.  For her it is part of her culture, her other family members did it.  But what do you learn from choosing to deprive yourself of food?  

When I was younger one of my favorite shows was Carter Country.  It was a comedy set in a small southern town.  One of the funniest characters was the mayor who was a silly little man.  One of his signature lines which he often said to the sheriff Roy, who was somewhat wiser, was "handle it, handle it," while he rolled his fingers in the air, distancing himself from the problem and the responsibility.  That would always make us laugh.  

From Kindergarten on I used to run in packs with other boys.  These were friends usually made through school, sports teams or family.  I usually had a best friend and then several other close friends.  With lots of heavy and sometimes cruel laughing we negotiated the complicated task of figuring out the world.  This happy state of affairs lasted through college until I met my wife.  As our relationship deepened, I began to focus the majority of my emotional energy there which seemed logical and natural.  This focus became more pronounced as we started our family and especially when our children were young and we spent an inordinate amount of time and energy  with them, again, as it should be.  

Fast forward 16 more years. Thankfully, I still have male friends but in the current parlance, the status has changed.  Now I have male friends from work, developed over many years and several jobs.  I suppose like my boyhood friends, they are guys I enjoy spending time with as we navigate the world of work  trying to understand and sometimes become The Man.  But it is different as adults.  These men, like me, often have their primary relationships at home and so the relationship in terms of time spent together often ends at work.  Likewise, I have friends from my neighborhood and community that I enjoy spending time with, but after the primary focus of family and work the time spent on those relationships is limited.  Finally, as I have mentioned before, I like to play tennis.  There is a group of guys who I play regularly with.  With the common bond of enjoying the same sport we have a great time when we are playing.  We talk before, after and  sometimes during games, but ultimately they too are limited.

I have been fortunate to maintain several of my childhood friendships, and those are often the deepest because of the important time we shared together.  However, time and distance has scattered us across the country and in some cases the world, limiting our ability to get together.  If you sense a complaint from me I must own my part of it.  I watch my wife consistently make a more focused and consistent effort to maintain her friendships.  One excuse I use is that working full time at a job that often requires travel, I feel that my free time should be devoted to my family.  While that is true maybe it is also the easiest and most comfortable thing to do.

But what about now?  My children are older and becoming more independent by the day.  We can even begin to imagine the time when they leave home to start their adult lives.  I know one of the things I would like to do with the extra time is establish and renew some important male friendships.  However, after so much time and effort focused in another direction I find myself uncertain about how to begin.  Like the shy boy who once stood crying at the fence that separated he and his sister, I seem to have forgotten how to turn around and say, "Hi, my name is Conspicuous, want to play together?" I realize that I am an extremely lucky man and have been truly blessed with my wonderful family.  But like Oliver with his bowl, "I want more please!" 

I have a friend who avoids receiving personal services.  By personal services I mean services that you can buy that can only be done by an individual coming in direct contact with you.  For example, my friend Milo does a workout each morning watching a yoga video, but he is not interested in taking a yoga class taught by a live instructor.  I grant him that his way is more economical and efficient and I admire his dedication to make it happen and keep it going.  Although we have never discussed it fully, I have extrapolated another reason for his position is that it avoids messy human entanglements.  If you take a yoga class and get to know the instructor, what do you do if you decide you do not like the class or do not want to go back.  Do you owe them some kind of explanation?  Either way there is awkwardness.  Another friend and I discussed a certain barber we had both been to.  My friend had recently gone to the Hair Cuttery and when I accused him of being unfaithful to "our" barber, my friend said "I am not looking for a relationship, I just want my hair cut".  Fair enough.