Annoucer: 0:00

You're listening to Shut Up and Choose. The no bullshit, no excuses podcast for people who swear they wanna lose way, but keep choosing everything that stops them. And before we continue, if you're gonna mention mom and egg like a fucking pussy the entire time, skip this one. This is 140 pounds with no shots, no diets, no pills, and not one single fucking membership slide. Just real promises live real life. If it's time to give me tired of the bullshit, and ready for somebody to finally call you out and tell you the truth, you are in the right place. This triple punches all of them right in its fat face. Stop coming in, start choosing this. Shut up and choose. Now here's Shopin.

Jonathan Ressler: 1:09

Welcome back to Shut Up and Choose, the place where weight loss nonsense and bullshit goes to die. We don't talk about motivation or willpower or quick fixes or cheat codes. We just talk about the choices you make and the body that you get as a result of those choices. So I want you to listen to me and really actually listen. So turn the volume up if you need to, cut out all the distractions. I don't care where you are. You'll be driving in the gym and the kitchen. None of that really matters. What matters is that for the next few minutes you stop pretending you don't know what's happening in your own life. This isn't an episode about weight. Weight is just the receipt. The real subject here is choice. The kind you make when nobody's watching, when pressure shows up, and when you're tired or bored or stressed out, or feeling sorry for yourself. Those choices don't feel dramatic in the moment, but they stack and they decide everything. It's the end of January, and your New Year's resolution, well, who knows where that is, but it certainly didn't fail. You abandoned it. You made the same decisions you always make and hope that the calendar would do the work for you. Guess what? It didn't. January didn't betray you. You chose exactly what you chose last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. And people love to talk about motivation and discipline and character flaws and personality types. That's all a bunch of shit. You don't have a character problem, you have a behavioral problem. You run the same loop every single year. Big intentions, a clean start, emotional commitment, and then real life shows up and you quietly negotiate yourself back into the same outcomes. You're a killer at day one. You're unbelievably elite at starting. You're addicted to the feeling of the beginning, but you're completely untrained in continuing. Day 14 exposes your weakness. Day 60, you're done. Day 300, forget about it. You're right back to where you were. Not because you're weak, but because you never change the decisions you make when it gets uncomfortable. Look at yourself honestly. Strip away the bullshit, the stories. Do you really believe that a date on a wall changes who you are? Do you think the universe pauses and resets and grants you a fresh identity because the month changed? Come on, we all know it doesn't work that way, and it never has. Outcomes respond to one thing, and that's behavior, period. Not your intentions or your vision boards, your plans, not what you meant to do. What you repeat under pressure is who you are. What you allow when it's inconvenient is what defines you. The scale doesn't lie. Neither does your calendar, neither does your bank account, neither do your relationships. You carried the same habits into this year that shaped last year. That's why the results look familiar. The calendar didn't fail you and the system didn't fail you. You chose exactly what those outcomes require. So here's the real question. And it has nothing to do with weight or resolutions, or even January. Are you going to keep choosing the same behavior and acting surprised when you get the same results? Or are you finally willing to choose differently and accept the cost that comes with those decisions? That's what this episode today is about. Let's stop and look at the wreckage of your promises. Resoluti sound serious, don't they? You say them in that deep cinematic voice. You whisper them to yourself like you're taking a vow. You might even buy a brand new, overpriced journal, write the resolutions down and convince that the weight of the paper adds the weight of your character. You sit there feeling responsible, focused, and different. But it's a scam, a psychological shell game that you play with yourself. Because a resolution is not a decision. It's a wish you refuse to put a price on. A real choice costs something immediately. Resolutions exist so you can delay the cost while making believe the decision has already been made. The problem is that sounding serious has never produced a single result. Sounding serious is nothing but a performance. It's theater for an audience of one for your ego. Results come from doing uncomfortable things repeatedly when no one is watching, when the house is cold, when your joints ache, and when there's nothing to post, nothing to celebrate, nothing to prove except whether you followed through or not. Resolutions are designed to skip that part. They're built to bypass the work and go straight to the emotional reward. And think about the cost of entry. What did the resolution cost you? Nothing. No money, no effort, no friction. You can make a life-altering resolution while laying on the couch half asleep, half full, and completely unchanged. You don't have to alter a single habit to feel like a different person. That's exactly why everyone loves resolutions. There's no risk, there's no accountability, there's no immediate consequences. You get the emotional reward without earning it. And that's the real trap. The moment you tell yourself, or worse, you tell other people that you're going to change this year, I've said it a hundred times, your brain gives you credit that you didn't earn. Not because your brain is stupid, but because you chose to reward intention instead of behavior. So you feel motivated and hopeful and proud, and you mistake that feeling for progress. But that isn't progress. It's a chemical pat on the head for thinking about doing something hard later. That early good feeling is dangerous because it convinces you the hardest part's behind you because you made the commitment. That's a lie. Making the commitment is the easiest part. The hardest part is choosing differently when it costs you something. Saying no when you're tired or showing up when no one would notice if you didn't, or acting in a line mode when every part of you wants comfort instead. Resolutions let you skip that reality while you're still feeling accomplished. That's how people stay in the same body, the same habits, in the same life for decades while telling themselves they're evolving. You mentally upgrade your identity without upgrading your behavior. That gap is self-betrayal. Every time your actions fail to match your declarations, your trust erodes. Your discipline rots and shame creeps in. And then, of course, you ultimately quit. Then you wait for the next clean slate and pretend the plan was the problem. So stop rewarding yourself for intentions and start demanding receipts. You've lived this script so many times, you should know it by heart. You made the promise, you felt the surge in the excitement, you picture the new version of yourself all disciplined and controlled and different. And then real life shows up. Monday morning hits, it's dark, it's raining, it's fucking cold, work is a mess, your kid is puking somewhere, something just goes wrong, and suddenly the new you disappears. Not because life surprised you, because you chose familiarity over change the moment pressure arrived. You didn't wake up on January 1st wondering how the story ends. You already knew. You've run this experiment before many, many times. You have the evidence, and that's a lot of years of it, and your history matters more than your intentions ever will. Your history actually shows the pattern. When things get uncomfortable, you negotiate, you talk yourself down, and you reduce the cost. You choose relief over progress and then act shocked by the outcome. You didn't change your behavior, you changed your language. Last year it was probably keto. This year it's going to be balance or a ton of protein. Next year it's going to be something else. The vocabulary changes so you don't have to. Balance is what people say when they want permission to quit without admitting it. If you're miserable and overweight, you don't need balance. You need correction. You need decisive change and need to stop choosing comfort in the moments that demand action. You brought the same habits into January that destroyed your progress in October. The same food triggers and the same avoidance, the same rationalizations for why today doesn't count. Calling a fresh start doesn't erase your history, it just delays accountability. You're trying to build something new while protecting the behaviors that already failed you. You're confusing hope with commitment, but hope is passive. Hope is what you lean on when you don't want to choose differently. Hope says maybe this year will change. Commitment shows up immediately. Commitments cost you something today, not someday, today. If you were committed, your behavior would already look different. I'm not saying it'd be perfect, but it would be different. Your grocery cart would reflect it, your screen time would expose it, your internal dialogue would shift from explaining to executing. Commitment leaves evidence. Hope leaves explanations. So you built your plan around a version of yourself that doesn't exist under pressure. You trusted willpower, and you know fucking willpower never works, but you trusted willpower that's betrayed you a hundred times. So stop lying. If this year is going to break the cycle, you don't need a better promise. You need different daily choices, especially the boring ones, especially when they're uncomfortable, especially the ones that you've been avoiding your entire life. I know I avoided them my entire life. So let's just get this straight right here. January did not help you. And December, it didn't hurt you. A calendar has no authority. It doesn't act or decide or force you to eat or to skip movement or to ignore your alarm. It tracks time. That's all a fucking calendar does. So when the calendar did nothing, you made choices. Thousands of them, small ones, easy ones, comfortable ones. You ate when you didn't need to. I was guilty of that for 59 years. You avoided movement because it felt inconvenient. I'm also guilty of that. You chose relief over effort. Guilty again. Then you pointed to a month and blamed the month for the outcome that you built. People love blaming December because it gives them cover. There's all kinds of shit. Parties, travel, family, stress. Everyone nods along because everyone's protecting that same behavior. I mean, it does. It feels reasonable and it sounds mature. And it allows the same habits to survive untouched. When you blame a season, you preserve the choices that created the problem. Here's the bottom line: the date did nothing to you. It didn't remove your ability to say no. It didn't prevent you from walking for 10 minutes, and it sure as shit didn't override your awareness of a hunger and fullness. Dates do not act. People act. The moment you blame timing, you give up control. You tell yourself that your health and self-respect depend on circumstances instead of decisions. Bullshit. It's also surrender. Your daily choices did everything. Not the dramatic ones, the quiet ones. The ones you barely notice, that extra bite, the extra drink, the extra hour scrolling instead of going to sleep. The decision to avoid discomfort before you were tired. Those choices stack up and they compound. Outcomes are built slowly and predictably. You didn't gain 50 pounds by accident. No one gains weight by accident. You built it up. One, hey, this doesn't matter decision at a time. Then you reach January and act surprised as if it happened to you instead of being chosen by you. Blaming time kills progress because it protects the behavior that needs to die. It gives it an excuse and a place to hide. You tell yourself, you'll deal with it when things calm down. Here's a wake-up call. They never calm down. Life doesn't pause. Stress doesn't disappear. Chaos is normal in most of our lives. If your discipline only exists when life is easy, it's not discipline. That's convenience. Real discipline shows up when you're in the middle of a shit show, when you're tired, when you're traveling, when your conditions are not perfect. That is the only time your choices matter. Stop giving months credit, stop giving seasons blame, and own your fucking decisions. Ownership is the only path forward. Here's another thing that kills me waiting. Waiting is a slow, cowardly death. You're not waiting because you don't know what to do. We live in an information age where you can pretty much find out how to do anything. You're waiting because delaying feels easier than choosing. You tell yourself you're waiting for motivation as if motivation is something that arrives from the outside. You wait to feel ready or feel inspired, or you want to feel different before you act different. That's backwards. Motivation doesn't create action. Action creates momentum. And momentum sometimes produces motivation. Waiting produces nothing. Motivation is unreliable because you treat it like a requirement instead of a side effect. You choose to act only when conditions feel favorable. The moment things get uncomfortable or boring or painful or even inconvenient, you choose to stop. Then you blame motivation for leaving as if you didn't dismiss it yourself. You're also waiting for energy. You tell yourself, you'll act when you feel better, but you feel depleted because of what you keep choosing: poor sleep, shitty food decisions, avoidance of movement, constant stimulation. You drain yourself, then wait for energy to appear so you can fix the behaviors that cause the exhaustion. That's not confusion. That's self-inflicted paralysis. Energy is not something that's granted, it's generated. You don't feel better and then move. You move and then feel better. You choose effort first and your body adapts. Waiting for energy is choosing to say exactly where you are right now. Then there's the most popular delay tactic of all. Waiting for life to calm down. Give me a fucking break. Work is busy, the kids are busy, something's always happening. You treat calm like a destination that you'll arrive at someday, where stress disappears and conditions finally allow you to act. That place doesn't fucking exist. Chaos is normal. Life doesn't have a pause button. The people who wait for peace before they choose action spend their entire lives standing still. I get it. Waiting sounds responsible and it feels measured. It gives you language that makes avoidance seem mature. But waiting weakens you. Every time you delay a hard choice, you train yourself to escape discomfort. You reinforce the habit of retreat. And that habit, like all habits, compounds over time. Even small challenges feel overwhelming because you practice avoidance so well instead of practicing action. The people you admire are not more motivated than you. They're not more energetic. They simply choose to act without negotiating with how they feel. They act when they're tired and when they're annoyed and when the conditions are not perfect. They don't ask their mood for permission. They decide first, they act second. They let the feelings catch up later, or not at all sometimes. Waiting doesn't protect you. It only costs you. The longer you delay, the bigger starting becomes in your head. Simple actions inflate into impossible tasks. That short walk feels monumental. A small, tiny decision feels overwhelming. That's what waiting does. So stop waiting, choose when you're tired, choose when you're busy, and choose when it's uncomfortable because waiting creates nothing but regret. And choosing creates motion. So there's always the all or nothing thinking, and this is truly the coward's exit. So let's talk about all or nothing thinking, not as a mindset, but as a decision. This is the moment where people choose to escape instead of correction. You build a clean plan, you follow it for a few days. I've done that hundreds, if not thousands of times. It lets you feel like you're in control. Then something goes wrong. You eat something you didn't plan or you miss a workout. That's never been a problem for me. I never really worked out. But you make one imperfect choice. And instead of correcting it, you choose to collapse. Your brain doesn't say, hey, this was a bad decision. Let's fix the next one. It says, this is ruined, might as well quit. That reaction is not confusion, it's permission. One bad choice becomes an excuse to make 10 worse ones. A rough afternoon turns into a wasted day. A wasted day turns into a lost week, and suddenly you're talking about restarting later when conditions are better and the guilt has faded away. That logic makes no sense anywhere else in life, but you accept it here because it gives you an exit. When something goes wrong, you don't lose progress, you abandon it. The collapse instead of correct pattern exists for one reason. Correcting immediately forces you to own the mistake. Collapsing lets you avoid it. Resetting feels clean. Correcting, that's uncomfortable. So you choose the option that protects your ego instead of the one that protects your outcome. You don't need a restart date. You need to make a different next choice. I always say the best thing you can do after making a bad choice, because we all make them, is to make the next choice a better choice. All or nothing thinking survives because it hides behind perfection. If the plan you're currently working on, that fad diet, that thing that came from some internet or Instagram jerk-off guru, that plan requires everything to go right. And then one slip gives you permission to stop trying. That's not discipline. That is fantasy built to fail the moment that your real life applies any pressure. Life is going to fucking interfere. Hunger is going to show up, stress is going to test you, schedules will get fucked up. If your system can't survive a mistake, it's not a system. It's a story you tell yourself so you don't have to adjust. Guess what? Adults correct immediately and quietly without drama. They make the next choice a smart choice. High performers don't have perfect weeks. What they do have is fast recovery. They don't throw away progress because of a bad decision that makes the next decision better and keep moving. So no announcement about it, no recommitment, no emotional spiral. All or nothing thinking is not honesty. It's avoidance disguised as standards. That is how progress happens. So I know a lot of people love the idea. Making resolutions, but I'm going to tell you why I believe that those resolutions are actually harmful. They're not harmless, they're destructive. Resolutions train you to confuse promises with action, and then you punish yourself when nothing changes. They encourage dramatic declarations that have no connection to how you actually live day to day. You don't say you will make one change that you can stay in. You declare an identity overhaul. You decide to eat perfectly or clean. You're going to train relentlessly and fix everything at once. None of that, none of it, is grounded in your real behavior. And that matters. Because plans that ignore your current choices are not ambitious. They're just fucking dishonest. These promises collapse the moment any kind of pressure in your life shows up. Even if it's a bad night's sleep or a long day or stress at home, that one disruption is enough. The structure fails immediately because it's never designed to survive real life. It existed to make you feel serious for that short window, but not to actually produce any kind of results. And the damage that comes next. When your plan fails, you don't blame the plan, you blame yourself. You decide you lack the discipline. You make the decision that something must be wrong with you. You treat the outcome as proof of a personal flaw instead of the evidence that the approach was fucking broken from the start. Repeat that cycle enough times, which I did literally hundreds of times, but repeat that cycle enough times and you'll train yourself to expect failure. Shame replaces action. Shame shuts down the effort. You avoid the scale, you avoid honesty, you avoid starting again because starting risks another confirmation that you can't be trusted. So you delay and wait. You tell yourself that you'll deal with it later when the conditions are better. Like I told you before, they never are. The conditions are never better, not in a real life. That's how people drift into long-term stagnation. Not because they don't care, because they keep choosing promises they can't enforce and then internalizing that collapse as a personal defect. If you want progress, stop making promises to yourself that you know you can't keep. Stop planning for the version of yourself that you wish existed. Start choosing actions the current version of you can execute under pressure. Not when the things are calm, not when you feel confident, but on your worst days. One choice you repeat on your hardest day matters more than a perfect plan you abandon under stress. Big promises protect your ego. Small choices change your outcomes. January is irrelevant. Fuck January. Behavior decides everything. So I spent a lot of time telling you what doesn't work, but now let me tell you what actually works. And this is the boring, uncomfortable truth. If you're waiting for a supplement or a shortcut or a workout split or some clever workaround that lets you skip responsibility, you can stop listening. You're not going to like what I say next. There is no trick or hack. There's only behavior. What works is so plain and repetitive that most people reject it because it doesn't entertain them. Here's what actually works. First, eliminate your resolutions entirely. I'm not saying to reduce them. I'm not saying to refine them. I'm saying eliminate them. Cut them out of your fucking life. Stop making declarations to yourself. Stop treating intention like action. Midnight promises don't do a thing, and emotional speeches, they do even less. Change does not begin with language. It begins with repetition. It's those tiny little choices. It looks like the same decision made again and again long after the excitement is gone. So kill those announcements. That's the second thing. Kill all the moment you tell people what you plan to do, you reward yourself before you earn anything. That approval, it feels good. That praise, when people are telling you, hey, that sounds great. That feels good. And your brain doesn't distinguish between social validation and real progress. So you feel accomplished without doing the work. That feeling weakens follow-through. If your goal requires witnesses, it's already compromised. Real change happens quietly. Silence protects momentum. The third thing is throw any timeline you have out the window. So destroy all your timeline. Deadlines create fantasy. Then you overcorrect. You panic when things don't match the image in your head. Health and losing fat from your body is not a project. It doesn't end. There is no date where discipline stops mattering. Stop asking how long it will take and start asking what you're choosing right now. The only time you ever control is in the current moment. So here's the part that everybody tries to skip. Pick one rule you don't negotiate with. One, not five, not a system, one behavior that you can execute even on your shittiest day. Make it simple enough that excuses sound ridiculous. Walking for 15 minutes or drinking water before meals or not eating a specific trigger food. The rule itself doesn't matter. The enforcement of it actually does. So follow it today. Not tomorrow, not if you feel ready. Today. Don't optimize it. Don't adjust it. Don't check your mood. Your feelings are fucking irrelevant. Either you follow the rule or you choose not to. That clarity matters. If you miss it, fine. Correct it immediately. No reset, no shame, no drama. The next decision is the only one that counts. That is what works. Not transformation or reinvention, reliability, the ability to choose the same behavior under pressure. Over time, those choices change your body. They change your confidence, and ultimately they change your identity. But here's the bad news. There's nothing glamorous about it. There's nothing exciting about it. And there's nothing that's optional about it. But it works. So we're at the end here, so there's no reason to protect your feelings now. Here's the truth you keep duck. You're not broken, you don't have a slow metabolism, you're not unlucky, you don't have some rare condition that makes discipline impossible. You've already proven you can be disciplined. You show up to work when you're tired because the consequences of not showing up are immediate. You show up for your kids, even when you don't feel like it, because the cost of not doing it is unacceptable to you. You follow the rules when the penalty for ignoring them is real. That tells me everything I need to know. You have the capacity. You're simply choosing not to apply it to your body. That choice has a pattern. Every time you skip movement, every time you eat food you know doesn't serve you, every time you stay up scrolling instead of sleeping, you're not confused or helpless. You're choosing comfort over the outcome. You're deciding that short-term relief matters more than your health or your confidence and your future. That realization hurts, right? Well, good. Pain is the only thing that cuts through denial. You didn't end up here by accident. Nothing happened to you. You built this outcome through thousands of small decisions that felt harmless in the moment. You practiced them until they became automatic. That's why they feel so hard to change. The good news is it's simple. If you built it, you can dismantle it. But that requires you to abandon the victim narrative entirely. You're not stuck, you're just trained. And what is trained can be retrained. That has nothing to do with self-love, and it has nothing to do with finding your way. It has everything to do with whether you're willing to be uncomfortable for a few minutes a day so you don't stay miserable for years. I know I was fucking miserable for 59 years. If you're waiting for someone to hold your hand while you experiment with the effort, this is not the place for you. If you're ready to build a system that holds up when life applies pressure, pay attention. First, if you want to get your head straight with my free weekly tips, they cost nothing. They arrive once a week in your inbox, every Wednesday. They take less than a minute to read. There's no fluff, there's no motivation, there's no selling you fantasies. It's just one clear reminder of what ownership looks like when excuses start forming. If you can't handle 60 seconds of honesty once a week, you're really not ready for change. But if you are, you can sign up on my website, JonathanRestler.com. Next, get my book. It's not a diet book. I'm not interested in counting macros or giving you fragile plans to collapse the moment life interferes. The book breaks down how your choices created your current results and how to change those patterns permanently. It explains why you fail, how you rationalize, and how to build behavior that survives real life. It's about creating a relationship with your body that supports your life instead of finding it. It's on Amazon. You can buy it there. You read it. I would say read it and then apply it. And finally, for the very small group that's actually ready to stop negotiating, there's direct work. It's not for people who dabble. This is for people who are done restarting. We build strategies around your reality, your schedule, your stress, your triggers. There's no diet, no starvation, certainly no injection, no punishment workouts. Results come from choices that work in the real world and hold up over time. So if you're interested in that, you can contact me on my website. But I promise you there'll be no more starting over and no more next year. The moment you stop pretending something is wrong with you, you regain control. The minute you admit that you're choosing comfort, you gain the leverage to choose something else. That's ownership. And ownership is the only place a life worth living actually begins. Let's face it, you've had enough fresh starts. What you need is a commitment with no exit. So it's time to stop talking and stop wishing and make the choice. Then you know what to do. Shut up and choose.

Annoucer: 30:15

Thanks for listening to Shut Up and Choose. If today's episode slapped you with some truth, good. That means it worked, and you've dropped the pussy attitude. Make sure to like, rate, and review. And connect with Jonathan on Instagram at JonathanWrestlerFatLoss, on YouTube at Jonathan Wrestler, and online at JonathanWrestler.com. No gimmicks, no excuses, no bullshit. Smart choices. Starting the second units up on this episode. Now, go make a better fucking choice.