Slice of Chaotic Life

Already early in the past week I found that my morning weight was down to 82 kg. That is not sensational – it amounts to a BMI of 23, which is near the middle of the recommended or “normal” range. (Normal in the 1970, when the average person was smoking.) Of course, now that I am there, Real Life has been patched so the lowest mortality is actually in the overweight range, from 25 to 30. But I am sure my doctor would be enthusiastic if he learned of this. I was 89 kg when he started worrying about me and diabetes (seeing how I had two diabetes 2 parents) and I was diagnosed with “pre-diabetes”, an asymptomatic diagnosis. (One may wonder whether the word diagnosis even applies to a condition that does not harm, but only has a potential for developing into a harmful condition later. But unlike some of these “pre” diagnoses, this one at least is not currently peddling some pharmacological product, but is treated with exercise and moderation in eating. This gives it some more credibility, I’d say.

My doctor was happy when I was down to 84 (or was it 85?) kg, I think he was mostly worried that I would gain weight, as humans tend to do at my age. Well, at almost any age lately. I was also quite happy to stop there, because I was down to 82 kg at the end of 2005, after the great illness of that year, and I did not like it. I was hungry all the time. I would wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to sleep until I had eaten something. After stuffing my stomach full, my brain was still hungry. But this time it is the other way around. My brain is sated even as my stomach gnaws and knots itself with hunger. I assume the brain’s contentedness comes from the blood sugar, while some other mechanism based on the fat reserves is steering my stomach. There are at least two separate mechanisms in the brain, but I am still not sure why they have reversed effects since 2005.

At the end of the week, I was down to 81.7, which is the lowest I have seen since I bought the bathroom scales back in the 1980es. And the thing is, I didn’t mean to do this. I meant to stop at 84, but somehow I am still losing weight. I eat as much as I want (and enough that I am bothered by acid reflux when I go to bed unless I take care) but I still have to tighten my belt now and again. I don’t really think this is a sign of some horrible hidden disease, although you never know. I more suspect excessive Ingress playing. My new mobile phone counts my steps, and on a normal weekday that’s about 16000. Given that I have an office job, that’s rather a lot, isn’t it? And most of it is spent Ingressing. So until I see anything else, I suspect that’s where my fat is evaporating.

And of course, having big sores in my mouth does not encourage eating just for fun. But I am hungry enough often enough that I stuff myself with something liquid instead, like yogurt or Pepsi. I have not heard that Pepsi (with cane sugar) is a weight loss drug, exactly. So probably Ingress.