Sweatin With The Oldies. You've met Same Old and Same Old?

I've lost twenty pounds over the past few months. Some people would consider that a good thing. I'm not so convinced for me it's best. I'm already skinny to begin with, and though I'm still 2 lbs above the weight I was when I deployed in November of last year, I'm starting to fear taking my shirt off in front of people. I tried to think of the factors that are currently causing me, along with the majority of the platoon to start to exhibit the appearance of Auschwitz survivors.

The first that obviously came to mind, was that we were no longer getting our three meals a day like we had been at FOB Loyalty. We now have the two meal with half a scoop of this or that, but not the only substance for the day, as we munch on all the goodies sent from home. The tuna and power bars, candy and s'mores. All packed up with time and care, not to mention money, to be sent here to help us out, and without them, perhaps I would have lost 30 pounds by now. I guess if I could make a facility that would include all of these factors, I could sign up those in America, probably just about everyone, looking to shed a few pounds, and put them on a three month cycle through it. The COP 763 Diet, it's war. That might sell.

I doubt it's the lack of food that really is doing it. Because though it's not quite everything we were getting back at Loyalty, like the dessert bar I so dearly miss, the food is sufficient enough for me not to be losing weight. Now after dinner we just eat from the desert bar. I would attribute it to the bout of depression and constant anxiety I've been feeling over the last month because I know that a symptom is weight loss. But usually it has to do more with the unwillingness to eat. I have been eating every meal I can, and trying to get fat on whatever junk food comes our way.

As I was thinking about it here on the computer, looking at baseball scores and checking emails, I found our situation kind of perplexing. It really didn't make any sense, until it hit me. Literally hit me. Not hard, or soft, but wet. The sweat making it journey down my forehead, connecting with my eye brow, holding their for a second, cooling while catching it's breath. It clings, hesitates, and then leaps from the safety of the hair, falling to it's metamorphosis from a drop in the air, to a splatter on my leg. I'm sweating profusely, and it's 110 degrees in this room. Some internet cafes have coffee, or pastries. I think we one upped them, ours internet cafe is in a sauna.

The computer room isn't the hottest place in the building of the COP. The hallways is actually a lot hotter, with all the exhaust fans of a thousand air conditioners blowing their hot air into the communal space. The funny thing is, that the majority of the fans don't work, or at least don't work right. I've been constantly sweating. Literally wake up in the middle of the night drenched in a puddle. I've been sweating for three months. The towers we stand in for guard, hot. The outside Iraq, hot and smelly. Even our own room is hot despite having three air conditioners blowing into it with all their effort. This must be the reason why I'm losing weight. I'm sweating.

Along with this, I guess some consolation. We might be soon living somewhere anew. Actually somewhere we've been close to before. The move will be nice in many respects, if it does actually happen. Better food, more plentiful at least. And certainly better A/C. We stayed a night at our possible new home less than a week ago. The room we were given, ice cold. Too cold to even sleep. That will probably be the best part if we end up making the move. And the possibility of gaining back some weight. I'm looking forward to the possibility that it might happen. I'll keep you informed. You know how the Army is, it's already changed 30 times.


John Stamos loves Ellen Degeneres