September 29th, 2007

Don't Hassle the Hoff

I know what you're thinking, "Did he really download Dirty Harry with Swedish subtitles?"

Well, did he, punk?!

Unfortunately, he did. And it wasn't as distracting as he thought it'd be once the movie got going.

So look, there's an element of risk in pretty much anything you do. That having been said, it's pretty alarming to hear I've lost 20 pounds in 10 days (which, since I've pretty much maintained that point, we'll go ahead and make that 20 pounds in 12 days).

First and foremost, you have to understand that the bulk of that initial weight loss is in the body ridding itself of excess liquid. But, if you take into account the irregularity of my actual diet, there's a general cause for concern. Not getting enough protein coupled with not performing a regimented weight-lifting program means that I'm most likely losing muscle mass along with any fat-loss. Of course, there's always the standard Hair Loss when you consider someone who loses weight rapidly ... OK so I guess nobody'd really notice THAT.

The websites I've looked at say I should be bothered by fatigue and even depression, but I honestly feel better than I have in a long time. AND, I'm improving on both my ab-workout and my 3-mile running time on a daily basis. So, it's not like I'm losing all muscle mass, and it's not like my exercise program is suffering as a result.

My biggest concern, apparently (aside from potential sagging man titties; which I'm going to monitor carefully by installing a daily push-up regimen in between the abs and the running), is developing gall stones. Yeah, I'm honestly sure that would suck as I can't imagine the pain I'd feel by having some rock-hard deposit running through my wiener, but we're gonna go ahead and say that's a small price to pay.

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm extremely superstitious about certain things. That, in turn, makes me extremely obsessive. So, when I set up a schedule for myself to follow, I HAVE to follow it. Every single day. If I don't, then I'm constantly worried that one day off will lead to a weekend, which will lead to a week, which will lead to me losing any and all momentum I developed to begin with. That's why I have to run every day. That's why I have to eat the same things every day. See, I found a pattern of eating that works for me; it gets me through the day. Bread and spread for breakfast/lunch, Top Ramen for dinner, carrots in between if necessary. Nothing after 6pm, especially nothing after exercising. Now, if I go and fuck with that, if I go and try to incorporate a bit of variety into that scheme, all hell could conceivably break loose and I'll be left with yet another broken goal.

Here's the bottom line: I've never been one to treat my body all that well when it comes to food. Fat or relatively skinny, it's not like a whole lot changed except the fucking portions. When I lost that weight in college, I ate two meals a day; but those meals were pizza, chicken strips and fries, the occasional Rice Krispie Treat. It's not like I became Mr. Vegetable. It's not like I sat around drinking Slim Fast or buying pre-packaged frozen dinners. For the longest time, all I would eat for dinner was Rice A Roni; now it's just Top Ramen, not that much of a stretch for me, really.

I'm a fucking tank, you know? My body is like a wild boar, a Very Low Calorie Diet coupled with a lack of protein isn't going to be the cause of my demise. Check into my family history, there's enough disease in there to take out the entire Iraq army. I've been overweight almost all my life, I've been a periodic smoker, I've done some serious damage to my liver with all the alcohol I've consumed in a relatively short span, and my diet from day 1 has been pretty attrocious. I've got more to worry about than going to bed hungry and losing some muscle mass.

Like making a presentable appearance for the ladies. Because seriously, it's never been my idea to lose weight for my health so much as my johnson. Let's call a spade a fucking spade here. Fat shy guys get pussy ... mmmm, never. Bottom line, muchachos. It's like that line in the Shawshank Redemption, "Get busy livin' or get busy jerkin' off."
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