I finally get it now.
Last night I went home to discover that my mother had bought an abnormally large, meat layered pizza.
I was immediately flooded with a cocktail of sadness, bitterness, confusion, and -- yes -- arousal from not being able to eat it.
I tried to run away to the fridge only to discover cheesecake, pints of blueberries, ripe mangoes, and mochi.
I literally ran away.
Because I can’t eat any of that right now, at least not the way I want.
To any friend that has ever asked me food advice and my response was something along the lines of: “Just stop eating these foods and eat Slow-Carb/Paleo/whatever Tim Ferriss says. That's it” or “Just eat the pizza, you'll be fine. ”
I’m sorry. I was a dick.
Let me explain.
I’m three weeks into the Batman training and diet prescribed by trainer and I’m already bitching like I’ve been asked to give up my left testicle.
I’ve never had much difficulty eating whatever I want while staying lean. And I fully recognize that comes from the fact that I’ve been bestowed the gift of my Asian ancestors and youthful vigor.
As an example, I am able to comfortably consume a large pie of meat lover’s pizza, liter of Arrogant Bastard ale, and pint of Ben & Jerry’s Oatmeal Cookie Chunk (RIP my friend), while still having visible abs.
Ladies: I know, you hate me.
But now that I’m being asked to drastically, albeit temporarily, limit how MUCH food I can eat and what kinds, I get it.
It can really suck being asked to fundamentally change the way you eat food.
I was walking over to my friend’s apartment last weekend for brunch, on a day where I’m only allowed 30g of carbs (think 1 large apple), and of course happened to walk by Junior’s Cheesecakes.
To those of you that I haven’t shared this with before, I have an unnatural lust for cheesecakes. I have literally been caught bent over, whole upper torso in the fridge, spooning through half a cheesecake.
So of course when I saw this harem of tantalizing cakes, I stopped and began to harbor fantasies of shoving each and every one of those thick, creamy disks of carnal pleasure down my delightfully oversized face hole.
(I most certainly getting a food boner writing this.)
It was during this weak moment of unbearable lust that I began to think, maybe...maybe, I don’t want to be the Batman...
Maybe I would rather go to Hill Country BBQ right now and eat as much fatty brisket, ribs, and cornbread as my courageous tummy can handle than be in peak physical, crime fighting shape.
Yes, this is hard. And it’s to be expected. I’ve only ever experienced my past levels of fitness and results doing what I’ve done.
But to be Batman, the goddamn Batman, I’ll need to trust the process and push through what’s comfortable and normal.
And you know what? I’m already getting a hell of a lot stronger and cut/shredded/jacked as fuck. I’m at about 7% body fat and my lower abs have veins that look like the roots of 1,000 year old trees.
When I took my shirt off the other night, my girlfriend audibly gasped at how my back has suddenly exploded with more muscles and requested that I do the dishes shirtless. She made other requests too but I can’t share those ;)
Ok, so maybe this momentary discomfort is worth it.
When it’s done with, however, I will allow myself the unrestrained divine pleasures of cheesecakes, fatty brisket, cornbread, Umami burgers, Bareburgers, sweet potato fries, White-Russian milkshakes, taro ice cream, and an absolute minimum of 35 soup dumplings from Joe’s Shanghai.
So to my friends that are working on fundamentally changing their relationship to food, I feel ya.
You got this.
It’s worth it.