running start

I don't know why I let myself get so fat, first off.

I've been on the verge of being grossly obese for a long while. My weight in college was usually around 230-240lbs. I'm sort of built like a cinderblock, so I always figured it was no big deal. And so, as more weight was added and my waistline expanded, I wasn't particularly worried about it. Working as a bouncer during the winters while I was fishing for a living, it was to my advantage. With a good running start, no one stays on their feet with that kind of momentum during a dive-tackle. Plus, in my capacity as a lobsterman, the extra weight wasn't a great impediment.
Working on a ship or tug and barge doesn't require one to be athletic. The job involves short bursts of great effort, not cardiovascular endurance. And, truth be told, I've never been overly embarassed about being overweight. It's just me, after all. I have a trophy wife, which is still crazy to me, but true. I must be doing something right.
Going to Brazil in July was a game changer for me. There aren't any fat guys in Brazil. There's some fat old men, and mentally challenged folks, I guess, but you won't find Jose Lunchpail wandering around with the equivalent of a 7-year old slung around his middle. In my whole life, while I have occasionally been embarrassed about how I look without a shirt on, I've never been ashamed of myself, and in Brazil, I was. Having my wife's family discuss my fatness in front of me, not realizing that I understand Portuguese pretty well, but don't speak it much made me embarrassed an angry. When an aunt said that I must be very rich for her beautiful neice to have married a balea (whale), I simply said "Sabe, Eu falo Portugues un pequino, mas Eu entiendo tudo, vaca" ('You know, I speak Portuguese a little, but I understand everything, you cow.)'.
On my flight back home, I realized that it is time to make changes. Being embarrassed for myself is bad, but being embarrassed for my wife was a living hell. To have family question whether or not my wife is a golddigger was a low moment in my life, and it's left me angry.

Unfortunately, anger and anxiety push me to raid the fridge when left on my own.

I did something that Jay G suggested when I first started reading his blog. I kept a diary of what I was eating, and meticulously calculated the portions and calories, and was deeply disturbed and surprised at the results. After 2 weeks of doing that, I spoke with my doctor and a dietician, and via email (being at sea, I was stuck, but damn my doctor is awesome), I started on a healthy, low cal, low cholesterol and low sodium diet, and started exercising daily; mostly walking around my deck in circles, and doing calisthenics at first.
Turns out, within a few days, I discovered that exercise is a great substitute for tamping down anger and anxiety, rather than simply filling my stomach and falling into a food coma.

I'm eating well. I'm eating foods I like- granted, there's no fried chicken or thrice-weekly steaks in my life, but I'm eating healthy, and I feel good. And I'm down 35lbs. The exercise has been a real boon to me- there's stuff going on that is making me heavily stressed out, and I find that the time for myself, the daily hour of walking and 30-45 minutes of weights and calisthenics every other day are really helping me cope with stress and anxiety from things that weigh on me.

And I look better, as represented by my waistline:



















That's my belt. I'm drilling holes in it about once a week. My clothes are looking decidedly gangsta, hanging off. My goal now is to get down to 190lbs, which for me would be flat-stomach skinny. I've made a hell of a start.

What's in a name?

First off, you have to understand that life on a coastal tanker can be boring.
Life on our coastal tanker was less boring than most. The permanent crew (Captains, mates, Chiefs, 1st assistant engineers, pumpmen, bosuns and 3 of the AB's) (half of whom would be home at any one time, and the other aboard, of course) spent half or more of the year together, and our bunch was a tight knit group even so. We had plenty of characters; Eldon the pumpman was a Honduran who would eat anything; honestly, the man was half seagull, and never, ever said a cross word in all seriousness in the years I knew him. Juan the cook was an Argentinian with a similar attitude, who could boil a boot and make it look good. Ernie the other cook was trying to poison us most of the time, I suspect, as chronic diarrhea was the norm while he was aboard.
One of the chief mates is to this day one of my best friends. How the hell that happened I don't know, seeing as we first started hanging out in our off time while I was still an Ordinary Seaman. He lives in a remote place up in Maine, where I happen to have lived a worked for a time, so we knew some of the same folks. Kindred spirits, I guess. Regardless, after a few years of working together, we had adopted our own rhythm in working; stripping out the final cargo in a tank was always a race between us. Port and starboard, we'd work our way down the deck, and the mate would always goof on me if he was ahead, and become curiously silent if I was. There being other folks on watch at the time, I rarely said anything too risque, as truthfully it would be weird for morale to have an unlicensed guy buddy buddy with the mate, so we did a pretty good job of being professional, when we were working, anyhow.
When we weren't working, or when we were just talking, word games were the norm; finding synonyms for anything became high art, and figuring them out only less slightly so. Examples:

Up Spermforter= down comforter
New Hampshire valves= main valves
Exotic dancers= stripping valves
scrote= bag


...just to name a few. Example: "Ask the bosun for the ditty scrote. I tore my up spermforter. On your way back, make sure the exotic dancers are all secured."
Now, any new guys would be mystified and possibly made uncomfortable. This was just how we passed the time. There's only so much that 20 men can do for entertainment when there's no drinking allowed.





Please remember in your thoughts and prayers the 400+ seafarers being held hostage and tortured by pirates in Africa, and join me in condemning all shipping companies who fail to report pirate attacks in an attempt to save on insurance costs.

that new blog smell...

A big "Welcome aboard" to The Gormogons, a blog containing some wonderfully thoughtful commentary on news and politics. In the week since I've been reading, these guys have become one of the first blogs I check on in my daily rounds.

Also, I am receiving a lame-duck mate on board today, a guy we specifically sent elsewhere a few weeks ago for reasons of being a shitty shipmate. Boomerang effect. Bummer.

flying solo

Today ended up being a down day, where there wasn't a cargo to keep us busy. We were fortunate enough to dock in Brooklyn, at my employer's dock, which gave me the opportunity to go ashore for groceries and my daily walk.
Today is September 11, and that's a whole other story, one that I'm not going to share, this year. This weekend has been marked by a frenzied police presence, for certain. Maybe it wasn't the best day for a walk in New York, but I was tired of my usual multiple circuits around the deck.
I should digress here. I have anxiety about visiting New York. In the 9 months since I transferred here, I've wandered around on foot exactly zero times. Even in driving here, I've driven to and from my home in MA, and to the grocery store, and that was it. This city intimidates me, or should I say, intimidated me, as that time is finally passing. I've now driven around Brooklyn, and even walked around the area where I park my truck now. I was pleased to find that it's actually a nice place to walk- lots of shops and cafes. With the eyes of the world focused on Manhattan today, it was also pretty quiet, which is a wholly positive thing.

I don't get it....

...you offer someone a sincere complement on their mustache, and suddenly she's not your friend anymore.

can't forget

...3 years ago today, aboard the somewhat unseaworthy steam tanker "New River," we started preparing for hurricane Ike, loading storm ballast and securing everything on board in preparation for a direct hit by the hurricane. Ike devastated the Galveston, TX area, and after dragging us nearly 300 miles backwards over the course of three days, spat us out on September 11, 2008.
I still have bad dreams about losing steering while at the helm on the last night, and the ship getting into a parametric roll that threw most of the crew around the house like coffee beans shaking in the can. Under extreme circumstances, the captain made several key decisions that saved the ship- storm ballasting among the most important. I often wondered if the ship would have lost stability had we not loaded down some of the cargo tanks with seawater.

thinkin' bout it.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about what makes me happy as a person.
When my wife and I decided that we'd visit Brazil this past summer, everything was geared for our trip. My already scanty free time (2 weeks at home after 4 weeks at work) was cut in half (I went to 5 weeks on/1 week off). In 2011 I've had 6 weeks off, including my 2 in Brazil. Essentially, I've had 28 days to spend with my family. Of that time, I've had maybe seven days to do what I like to do. Brazil was an exception there. Being a tourist is fun. Being a tourist tied to my wife's apron strings viz a viz the language barrier... not as much fun, but still fine.
2011 has been the year of no fun, despite the amazing vacation in Brazil. My weight ballooned from stress and lack of exercise. My patience is AWOL.
August was a bit of a watershed month for me. With a week's preparation, on August 1st, I finally started a program of healthy eating and exercise, which I continue daily. My weight is falling fast, as it should when one is obese and no longer eating everything in arms' reach. In addition, I vowed to not work extra more than twice in the next 12 months, so I'll be back to having more free time.
On my next payday I'm going to send a check to a marine architect and have him send me the plans for building a small rowing dory. I love building boats, and even with my limited time, it should be possible to cobble something together. I'm hoping to engage one of my brothers in the project, as I have a certain lack of facility in cutting smooth curves, and it would be nice not to spend 200 hours on sanding the waves out of my cuts, as is my usual M.O.

So things are already looking up. Also, after a 3(!!!) year hiatus, I'm going to go back to my favorite place in the world, Downeast Maine, to visit some friends early next month. Bliss ensues.