Traveling is not diet friendly.

I had to leave my lovely hermitage, the place of my wife, dog, French press, and general sense of wellbeing, to go to Waco, the Cancun of Central Texas, for some super-secret Masonic business. We did the usual; got together, did some math, decided which demographic we’re going to oppress this year (We’re very progressive so it’s going to be Latvian midget wrestlers – they’re gaining way too much influence in Europe.), voted on some stuff, and basically hung out for a couple days in a town no one really likes. Thanks to Chip and Joanna Gaines, we now have many more places to hang out in than our Masonic forbears. Sadly for me, socializing means eating out.

I did fairly well the first day, limiting myself to a house salad with no dressing for lunch and then blackened catfish and grilled veg for dinner. I slipped a bit and had some of the appetizers which were meant for sharing and I didn’t want the Brother who paid for them to feel snubbed. The social pressure of eating is brutal. You can’t know it unless you’ve been there. Trying to go out with people, which frankly is difficult for me as it is, recluse that I am, and be social without the crutch of alcohol or shoving food in my facehole to fill the gaps between conversation. It also feels bit “sinful” to me.

I should explain that as I’m reasonably certain I don’t share common beliefs with anyone.

There are very few “sins” in my worldview and most of them are centered around waste. Time, life, opportunity. An individual may choose to waste their time, their life (redundant), their opportunities as they see fit, after all, those things are theirs to dispose of as they see fit. I might consider it ignorant at best, decadent (in the worst sense of the word) at most, but I have no right to declare them “sinful” as it’s not my business. I can and do pity them, but from afar, because we only get one shot at existence (that we can prove) and that’s a gift from the Universe. That’s the Nature of the sin in my world, squandering life.

Now, because I consider existence a gift from the Universe or God (I’m a deist) or magnificent accident, I must consider the same for all things. This governs my relationship with others and navigation through this reality.

When someone provides the gift of food, whether they know it or not, they are giving of themselves and it is a sacred act. God, that sounds pretentious but follow me here. Dining is an exchange of life energy and food is the currency of that exchange. To provide food to another is to convert your life energy (time and effort), either in the acquisition or preparation of food, into a portable form of “you” for their consumption, the result of which is the extension of their existence.

Yes. I’m a big weirdo. You don’t need to tell me. I have a team of volunteers to do so. They meet on Wednesdays. Pretty sure there’s a Facebook group.

Now when we get to socializing over a meal, the gift is two-fold. First is the meal and any libation. We’ve covered that. The second is the time and attention given for conversation and actual socialization. Because of my peculiar beliefs, I must honor those gifts and show gratitude accordingly. I realize that technically, that makes it commerce, a gift with expectations is not really a gift, but I recognize that few others are aware of that and so accept these gifts with a gracious heart. I won’t sit with those who are aware of the commerce connection, assume I don’t, and use it to try to force an exchange from me. It’s why I don’t usually allow other people to do things for me unless I know and trust them. It’s complicated being me.

Basically, I’m socially inept (I don’t have a lot of common interests with others and so fall back on inappropriate humor.), have strange boundaries, and feel a tremendous amount of pressure to perform correctly at social meals. Mostly because I’m more concerned about how I will be misunderstood and have to deal with blowback later. I’ve been burned too many times in the past. I genuinely don’t want to offend anyone, particularly those who have given freely of their existence for my benefit. So basically, yeah, several days of awkward because, through all of this, I’m worried about calories and intake.

The second day, I did not do as well. “Mexican grilled chicken” at a Tex Mex place – basically a grilled chicken breast with salsa on it. The evening was harder as it was more of a celebration of the day’s labor being over. I had some fried pickles because someone else bought them, (see previous), and then ordered the “braised beef tacos” which I was informed had no sides. So I ordered some spicy-sweet “roasted” Brussels sprouts to go with.

Funny thing about Brussels sprouts. You’d have through I whipped my penis out and laid it on the table from the reaction to not only voluntarily eating Brussels sprouts, but enjoying them. Odd.

The tacos were a bitter disappointment. The texture of the meat came across as boiled within an inch of fading into unreality and was so lacking in flavor many of my British friends would have reached for anything at all in order to taste something while eating them. Oh, and factory-made flour tortillas. Taco Bell style. Somehow, they always remind me of albino Laffy Taffy; not as sticky, but just as gummy.

The Brussels sprouts were also not roasted as advertised. They came into being via the deep fryer, but as they aren’t really all that absorbent, so I ate them anyhow. I didn’t eat anything the next day until I arrived at my house and killed the last piece of my wife’s leftover meatloaf and the leftover “butter chicken” from Wednesday night.

Preliminary weigh in, which is totally irrelevant, today shows 269.8 which is encouraging, but as I explained to the wife, the only data that counts is on Monday mornings around 07:30. Any other weigh-in data isn’t actually data. It’s noise disguised as data. That being said, if preliminary numbers are indicative, then I did better in Waco, the Cancun of Central Texas, than I thought. Might have been all the walking.

The disappointment of the braised beef tacos have be braising some beef shanks as I write this. Had to go to the local Mexican market for interesting meat as my local grocer really only has “organic” (organISH) or “pretty” cuts. The national chain is a little bit better, meat-wise, but they are more expensive. So, off to the once proud dying chain of Mexican grocers. Brilliant produce, honestly. Better meat selection. Amazing herbs (leaves) and spices (seeds), though miss-labeled.

I’m also hoping to explore potato alternatives for the wife. I can still eat them as long as the calories come in but she can’t. Not being a dick, I can do without but I think exploring turnips, kohlrabi, jicama, and rutabaga’s is in order.

Ok, this just in, my weight for the week is 272.8 lbs. Meaning I lost 3.8 lbs for the week, for a total of 8.6 lbs so far. No idea the calories consumed which is infuriating, but I’ll deal. See? Any other number is just noise.