Making decisions by proxy


Struggling to make decisions that are in our own best interest is something most of us have experienced at some point in our lives, or perhaps even experience on a regular basis. We know something would be good for us, but we can't seem to make lasting progress on achieving it or implementing it into our lives.

The decision to lose weight, get in shape, get our health back on track - back to the glory days of our youth - is something many of us aim for, but ultimately fail at achieving.

For my entire life as a young adult, I was, what is known in the world of body-building as, a 'hard-gainer'. My problem was not losing weight, but, in fact, gaining weight. The first time I made the decision to gain weight, I failed. The fifth time was no different.

This track record of failure came to a protein-shake-fueled halt the moment I made one small, but incredibly significant, change to my approach.

I've always had difficulty committing to a plan. I could create them. Creating them was no problem at all. In the words of Jerry Seinfeld, "See, you know how to take the reservation, you just don't know how to hold the reservation and that's really the most important part of the reservation, the holding. Anybody can just take them." I knew exactly how to make the plan, to set the goal, to mark the days on the calendar. My problem was, the most important part, the holding.

I'd snap them into existence, execute them for a while, then lapse into old habits, forget the plan ever existed. But deep down, although not really *that* deep down, I knew; I knew I had failed. Again.

I transformed this failure into success with a single change:

I made my decision to gain weight... by proxy.

What does this mean? It means that I gave ownership of my decision away. Who did I give it to? Nobody, actually. But in my mind, the decision had been made for me, on my behalf, by my 'proxy', as I like to call him (and yes, he is a 'he'). It was as though I were a child whose strict father had laid down the law. I was a lowly intern whose boss had set an important task. I'd joined the army, and was a new recruit with his commanding officer standing over him barking orders.

This extremely simple change in my mind made all the difference in the world. It took away my control, my choice. It made the matter so simple. I would eat this amount. I would work out for this long every 2nd day; no exceptions. There was no deadline, nor end date. The conclusion really was foregone. The decision would proceed indefinitely; definitely.

Some days I'd come home late from work. The clock would ready 10pm. The day? A 'working out day'. A sigh would exit my soul. I'd get changed, and get to it. Did I want to take a day off? Correct. Did I curse, sulk, and stomp around. Uh huh. Did I ever skip a single day? Sure, if I had a good reason like being sick. But I was more consistent in this routine than in anything that I'd ever attempted to achieve in my life.

My proxy had everything under control. I know he didn't actually exist. He was me. But he was also separate from me. He was, I understood, just me playing a trick on myself. But I listened to him, and followed him unquestionably, because I knew he knew best. It was my car, but he was in the drivers seat; I was just along for the ride. We both knew I wasn't fit to drive anyway.

Once I had gained 15 kilograms in 18 months, I declared it a success. I was just shy of my longterm goal of 80kg, and although admittedly, not all of the weight was the lean muscle mass that I had initially dreamed of building,  I was more than happy.

Then I made a new decision; I would lose 10 kilograms of the fat I had accumulated. One could say, I had been too successful (...I say this) in my endeavour. I'd gained too much, too fast. Help!

Again, my proxy took control. It was a done deal. The decision had been made for me.

I ran, I cycled, I continued my weight training; albeit reduced in intensity. I cut a single meal and a single snack from my daily routine (about 800 calories). The weight fell off me, and in 3 short months, I was down to my goal weight. I felt great.

The moral of this story is: decisions are tricky things. We have the power to make them, thus we have the power to unmake them. We can, and should, hold ourselves accountable for those decisions, but it's not the only way. We can also make decisions with the help of a proxy; that semi-sentient (no I'm not a crazy person) energy inside all of us that secretly knows what's best for us, and commands us to make it so.

We'd best listen to them.

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