Well, shit. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting it, but as was foretold, “the stall” has arrived. A week early, but it is what it is. It’s a little disappointing. Seems my meatsuit is onto me.

We’ll talk about the Stall in a second but first, the numbers from last week. Assuming, based on last week’s numbers, I was heading into the Stall, I upped my calories to a 1386 on average per day. I did get a little bit of extra walking in, so my average net (after factoring in the walking) per day was 1073 calories which means, I should have lost 3.5 pounds. Instead, I have to settle for a whopping .6 pounds. Putting it into perspective, if I only wanted to lose .6 pounds in a week, I could have sat on my ass watching TV and consumed roughly 2600 calories per day. Ouch. So what the hell?

In very simple terms, my body has come to the conclusion that resources are scarce and I am starving to death. That’s why you never let the body call the shots. It doesn’t have enough information to draw the conclusions it does.

I’ve got a problem to solve. I have to show my body there is plenty of food and it doesn’t need to try to guard against “the famine” by retaining as much of my energy reserves as it can. Instead, I will go for muscle mass and then hit the reserves in a last ditch effort to preserve its existence. I must keep that from happening in the most counterintuitive, simple way possible. I

I have to temporarily break my diet. Probably today and tomorrow. That should be enough to show my body everything is OK for another five or six weeks.

You’d think I’d be excited to be able to eat again, but I’m not. I’ve become used to “eating lean” and I have a goal to achieve, so I really don’t appreciate the interruption. Likewise, my son and I went to the dachshund races at the local horse track on Saturday and I could have had some of those amazing looking nachos.

Dachshunds are not natural born racing dogs, by the way.

After this morning’s weigh in and I was forced by data to declare the Stall in full progress, I took the opportunity to go get some actual tacos. 3 barbacoa with refries and two potato with refries. All five on fresh made corn tortillas. Because I am no longer used to eating fat, it was really difficult to get through the first 3. I’m still a bit queasy. I managed, though, because I know why it’s necessary and that’s the truly awful bit.

I already feel like one of those ducks used for foie gras. Eating should be about pleasure or sustenance. I should be voluntary. Eating those tacos like I did just felt like “sin”. Excess for the sake of being excessive. Not to mention the cow that gave its face for me to have those tacos.

I do consider the lives of the critters I eat. Morally, I actually have issues with preying on the lives of other creatures to sustain myself and frequently entertain going vegetarian. Life is life after all. I mean, I understand that meat isn’t sentient, but that doesn’t mean its life should be taken casually.

When you look across time and consider how many people had to exist before you, meet, and breed for you to come into being, it’s rather staggering. Any one thing along the way could have derailed your existence as you. Hell, if one of your fellow (I assume they are dudes) sperms had made it to the egg first, you’d be a different person and all you are, would never have existed. I can’t help but think the same thing about the critters we eat. Or the ants we step on. Or the vermin we poison. But…

Nature comes first. My meatsuit is designed to consume both plants and animals. Vegans will tell you otherwise. Millennial and Zoomers, too, that biological reality is a myth. To be fair, they say lots of shit, but it doesn’t alter the fabric of reality. Human beings are omnivores. Yes, they can choose otherwise, but at the end of the day, everything must be true to its Nature.

I still eat meat. I just don’t like to waste it because Life is Life.

From a woo-woo perspective it tracks. We aren’t necessarily eating food. We’re eating Life. Animal life, plant life; it’s still life. Life runs on life. Some kinds just perform better in our meatsuits than others, regardless of our personal choices, adaptations not withstanding. I probably think too much.

Ya’ll know what? Tomorrow is Mardis Gras. Think I’ll go get some Zummo’s. And a King Cake. And still do better than .6 pounds next Monday.