Reflections

It interests me greatly, the roads we take and how we get where we’re going. At this time last year, I’m reasonably sure that I had no idea what a “weight-loss blog” was and certainly had no plans of starting my own.

After my fateful Easter weekend where I decided it was time to get my act together once and for all, I stumbled around the internet looking for resources and inspiration to help me along my path.

I discovered a blog called Steve v4.6, and it was the story of a guy that was roughly my height, roughly my age and roughly my starting weight, only he’d been getting after it for a year or so and was achieving great success. I backtracked through his entire story, followed his adventure step-by-step, day-by-day. I was mesmerized, and the exercise made me both want to lose weight and write about the experience.

There’s nothing very exciting about my day-to-day eating and workout regimen. I think that’s the reason why this blog gets as ridiculous as it does as often as it does. I’m just trying to entertain myself most days, trying to keep myself motivated and interested in staying in the center of the path.

It was more difficult early on, when I had to work hard on simply the leap of faith that good results would follow in time. That if I kept my nose to the grindstone, positive changes would ensue.

Yesterday I had to go to the post office to pick up a package that they tried to deliver over the holidays. The woman asked for ID and noted that I’d lost a good bit of weight. It didn’t occur to me until later that I’d gotten my license re-done in late August, four months into my journey. I remember being quite pleased with the new photo, as it was a big improvement over my previous DL.

That same leap-of-faith thinking happened with Jack Sh*t, Gettin’ Fit, too. It still never ceases to amaze me that folks find their way over to this place, think enough of what I do to recommend me their friends or are interested enough to leave a comment.

I’m learning a lot about this blogging business the longer I keep at it. As a matter of fact, I’ve learned to drill down and see exactly what people reading this blog were looking for when they found me. Here’s some of my favorite recent Google searches that landed folks on JSGF...

• does corndogs make you gain weight?
• it's too long it's too strong it's too hard it won't fit
• mean raps about the name jack
• cookies that begin with sh
• lite corn dog
• gettin jacked and being bald
• bobby mcferrin workout
• dirty recipe names
  
• rudolph the red nosed dumbass
• hot girls chumshut

Thanks to Jeannette for bestowing this bombastic bombity bling on me, and thanks once more to everyone who stops by this spot, either on a daily basis on semi-irregularly. Like Jerry McGuire told Reese Witherspoon at the end of that movie that I can never remember the name of: “You complete me.” (no waitaminute… it was “Show me the money!”).

In all seriousness, I’ll always look back fondly at 2009 as the year that I left a dark place and ventured out into the light. I hope the coming year brings you good luck, good health and good results in every goal you set for yourself.

Note: I thought about renaming this space, but decided that “gettin' fit” is still what I'm striving for, still what I'm pushing for. So instead, I just updated the header, reworking “If you think losing weight is easy, you don't know Jack Sh*t” to “If you think losing weight is impossible, you don't know Jack Sh*t”. Funny how just a small change in wording can make a world of difference...

x

More Really Bad Weight-Loss Advice

I plan on getting pretty serious come January 1st, so please allow me the opportunity to get just a bit of silliness out of my system before we all shift it back into high gear…

• Keep a canister of helium near your scale and take in a big lungful before you weigh in.
• If you must eat fudge, be sure and wash it down with a Diet Coke.
• They couldn’t call them “Apple Jacks” if they didn’t have real apples in them, dumbass.
• It doesn’t matter if you do one pushup or one hundred, so I always just do one.
• A homemade licorice headband is stylish and can help you keep your energy up during a workout.
• If you insist, most waiters and waitresses will give you a “wild-ass guess” at how many calories are in various entrees.
• Keep in mind that old saying: “Tired? I feel ya… here’s a shot of Tequila.”
• When adding up the calories from the frozen yogurt with sprinkles and frozen cookie dough you just ordered, don’t forget to subtract the calories of all the toppings you could have ordered but didn't from the total.
• Baked Cheetos are pretty good, especially if you give ‘em a whirl in a Fry Daddy.
• One time this guy was jogging and he dropped dead; I’m not saying you shouldn’t jog... I’m just sayin’…
• Tight pants are in this season.
• To make a healthy banana split, substitute banana for the ice cream and ice cream for the banana (note: I’m still in the test phase, so I’m not absolutely sure this one’s good to go yet).
• If you take the recyclables down to the street on time, you win “immunity” and are allowed to skip one weigh-in.
• Drink lots and lots of water, or if you don’t have ready access to water, milkshakes.
• If you’re going to go through the fast food drive-thru no matter what, at least get some exercise by going through on a unicycle.
• Keep some snacks on a shelf close to your scale so you can scarf them down immediately after weighing in.

Confush*t Say...

Confush*t say...

…person who eat too much over the holiday need to quit cold turkey.
…person who employ low-carb diet is going against the grain.
…person who drinks too much coffee has a latte problems.
…person who succeeds in diet employs mind over platter.
…person who lives life as couch potato will likely raise tater tots.
…person who eats too many donuts dozen have a good diet plan.
…person who are butter lovers generally are not better lovers.
…person who eat too many French fries find weight ketchup to them.
…person who has successful weight-loss journey find it takes breadth away.
…person who doesn’t eat Jewish food might find it too Hasidic.
…person who drinks too many fancy coffee drinks may get brewed awakening on scale.
…person who always takes salt shaker and puts more on is salt-shaking moron.
…person who eats too much at Japanese restaurant might have sake weigh-in.
…person who drops a size in pants gives sighs of relief.
…person who doesn’t like bread overcooked might be black-toast intolerant
…person who mistakes a piece of sh*t for sausage finds day taking a turd for the wurst.

Confush*t believes there are two kinds of people in this world. The first person is the one who diets and exercises religiously. The second person is the one who eats and does what they want and prays they don't gain weight.

Confush*t's motto:
Don't sweat the petty stuff, pet the sweaty stuff
or stuff the cheesy puffs.

I’m Sorry, Garth Brooks

Blame it all on my blog
I work out like a dog,
And kill on my weigh-in each week.
Each Sunday, you know,
Each Sunday I show,
It’s the time I give
A glimpse of my physique.
But now I’m about done
With my weight-losing fun.
Just popped a bottle of lite champagne.
I may be at goal weight
But, honey, don’t get irate,
Cuz’ there’s others that’re losin’ as well.

Oh, I've got friends with low weigh-ins
Bringing their numbers down,
And trying to chase those pounds away.
And we’ll all be okay.
I'm not big like when I was buffeting.
Think I'll go do some basketball playing.
Oh, I've got friends with low weigh-ins.

Well, there’s Fat Daddy Rants
and ol’ F. McButter Pants
And Daily Diary’s big loser Sean.
They’re doing real well,
They’re rockin’ that scale.
This is a great adventure that they are on.
Hey, I didn't wish
To leave out Starfish.
Just give me an hour and then
Well, I’ll give you a list
Of bloggers that shouldn’t be missed
When they’re weighin’ in....

'Cause I've got friends with low weigh-ins.
Bringing their numbers down,
And trying to chase those pounds away.
And we’ll all be okay.
I'm not big like when I was buffeting.
Think I'll go do some basketball playing.
Oh, I've got friends with low weigh-ins.

282.5’s in the mix,
as well as 266.
Fixing Myself Thinner's Dawn.
Escape from Obesity’s Lyn,
Not to mention Tamzin.
Between 'em all that's a lot of pounds gone.
I don’t mean to cause a big scene,
But we losin’ a great deal of mass.
So how about you?
Can you lose it, too?
Why you bet your sweet ass!

'Cause you’ve got friends with low weigh-ins.
Bringing their numbers down,
And trying to chase those pounds away.
And we’ll all be okay.
We not big like when we were buffeting.
We on a great journey, that’s what I’m sayin’.
Oh, we’ve got friends with low weigh-ins.

x

A Little More of Me to Love

Weekly weigh-in: 202.7
Loss: +0.5
Total loss: 88.8 lbs.
Emotion: Nogged up

Nog Nog

Who’s there?

Wayne

Wayne who?

Wayne sucked this week. I gained half a pound!

A friend gave us a bottle of real whole cream eggnog blended with rum, brandy and whiskey. Had a couple of shots of it on Christmas Eve, then treated myself to a liberal dose in my Christmas morning coffee… and then again in a second cup (I’ve given up everyday java, so this was really a special treat).

That wasn’t my only run-in with the holidays last week, but it was probably the most decadent.

So my assault on Onederland will have to wait at least one more week.

I did have one telling moment this week that really drove this accomplishment home for me. I was trying to help me 10-year-old daughter Pisa find something in the bathroom when–on a lark–I scooped her up and stepped on the scale while still carrying her.

Our combined weight?

292.

That’s a half-pound more than I weighed eight-and-a-half months ago.

I’ve lost a 5th grader.

Couple more holiday events (including a big New Year’s Eve party), and then it’s time to buckle down and finish what I started.

Here’s to a safe, happy and healthy new year to us all!

This is Your Wake Up Call

Welcome to "Same Old Sh*t" Saturday, where I regurgitate old stuff instead of... ummmm... gurgitating new stuff. This was my first attempt at a grab-you-by-the-collar-and-shake post, and I worry every time I write one that I'm coming off too preachy. But the truth is, I go back and re-read the ones like this fairly often, especially when I need a boost of willpower, a second helping of want-to. Sometimes we all need a kick in the seat of the pants...

Wake up.

There’s a bright shiny new day waiting for you and you’re letting it slip away while you lie there beneath your layers and layers of covers, wishing the world would go away. I’ve got news for you, Sunshine: the world’s not going anywhere. It’ll keep spinning, keep churning, keep going on and on and on, and it doesn’t particularly care if it goes on and on and on with or without you. You’ve been lying in the dark so long that the world has just about forgotten all about you. Maybe it’s time to make it remember.

It’s time to get up and start moving.

Move toward your goals. Move toward your dreams. Move toward the life you know you want and deserve. You’ve squandered day after day, year after year, but here’s the thing: it just doesn’t matter. Yesterday is dead and buried, and today is right here, so bright and beautiful and full of possibility and…

I know, I know.

Life.

You gotta runrunrun. You’ve got deadlines and responsibilities. You’ve got pressures and problems. You simply don’t have enough time to get it all done. It’s all just too much to bear.

I don’t mean to laugh at you, I really don’t, but…

Do you really think you’re the only one with deadlines and responsibilities, pressures and problems?

Everybody everyday is dealing with whatever they have to deal with, and guess what? Some of it makes your big fat worries look like less than nothing. Sure, life is busy, busy, busy, and there’s never enough time to do everything. However, there’s always enough time to do the most important thing, and right now the most important thing is for you to GET UP.

Get up and start moving.

Get up and start living.

You’ve been feeling sorry for yourself so long that you think it’s your natural state. I’m here to tell you that it isn’t. Not by a long shot.

So your life could be better.

Make it better.

It is within you to grab hold of your life and bring it back under control. No, it won’t be easy. Did I say it would be? It will be a day-to-day struggle, a month-by-month challenge, the work of a lifetime. But we both know it will be worth it, don’t we? We both know that this isn’t where you want to be, where you were meant to be.

You can lie there feeling sorry for yourself or you can get up and make something out of this beautiful day. You didn’t get where you are overnight, and it won’t get better in a matter of days… but it will get better. I promise you it will get better.

You’ve been down long enough.

Wake up.

And They Heard Jack Exclaim As He Drove Out of Sight...

Then & There, Here & Now

This has been some kind of year.

I guess I don’t have to tell you that I was in a bad place twelve months ago. My diets came in fits and starts. Five days of super-high motivation followed by a serious setback or two and then… well… the tide washed me back to shore, fatter and sadder than before I made the attempt.

It’s heart-wrenching, isn’t it? That realization that this wasn’t the time you were finally gonna do it. That this is just one more failed attempt to pile on all the dozens (or let’s be honest with one another… maybe even hundreds) of dashed dreams and broken promises.

Believe me, I know what it feels like. The idea starts taking root in your head that maybe this is just too tough for you. That it’s your destiny to spend whatever remains of your days in a body that you really can’t manage to feel good about.



Man, a picture says it all, doesn’t it? I look like the most miserable sad sack that ever walked the planet. And how the holy hell did my “camera radar” not kick in and allow me to swiftly shuffle out of the photo?

I can’t tell you what it was the finally flipped the switch. As bad as it is, that picture wasn’t enough to do it. Splitting the seat of my pants in public wasn’t enough to do it. Feeling out of sorts and out of control wasn’t enough.

It’s been suggested to me that my breakthrough came because I had a weekend on my own and finally was able to have a heart-to-heart talk with the only person who could do anything about my situation: me. Maybe that was it… maybe the day-to-day din of our hectic lives doesn’t provide us with the self-reflection time we need to make the big decisions about our health and well-being.

I give this blog a world of credit as well. I post regularly because doing so keeps this weight-loss journey bubbling on the front burner, even when I’m simply jibber-jabbing about nothing of much relevance or importance. That interaction with this wonderful weight-loss world keeps my focus laser-sharp.

These days, having lost nearly 90 pounds to the good, I don’t feel so helpless or hopeless anymore. I don’t feel like my future is outside my own control, and I don’t feel like a stranger in my own skin. Actually, I feel like I’m coming home.

And I don’t freak out when somebody pulls out a Nikon.

I may not say it enough, but thanks to everyone who makes it a point to stop by this space, whether it’s every day or every so often. I really do appreciate your compliments, your good advice, your words of encouragement and the way some of you have a tendency to get a little assy and sassy. Comments on my posts sometimes turn into a rockin’ blog party, and it never ceases to make my day.



And here I am today, in all my sweaty glory, just having wrapped up a 20-mile bike run with lots of hills. When I look at that first picture these days, I like to imagine that that fat dude is puzzling over a strange text message he just received: “GET UR @SS IN THE GYM, JUMBO. YOUR PAL, JACK SH*T.”

'Tis The Season For a Guest Post

If I don't start my holiday shopping soon, I'm going to be making a midnight run to Walgreen's again this year ("A Chia Snuggie? You shouldn't have!"). So, I asked my good friend Sue to blog-sit for me while I do some last-minute gift-grabbing.

So, a while back when Jack invited me to write a guest post I answered with a very fast Sure! What would you like? He said he wasn’t picky; he just wanted the best piece of writing I’d ever produced. Um, no pressure, right?

Needless to say it’s taken a while for me to give Jack this post.

Over at my place I have been telling the story of how my husband (I call him Trophy Husband) and I got engaged. It involved a few bodily functions and doesn’t come off making me look all that great (because they are MY bodily functions). But it makes my husband look like a bit of a hero, which always improves relations, if you know what I mean. Wink.

And Jack kind of liked it, too. So I thought I’d tell another Trophy Husband story. But this time I’m choosing one where he looks more like a regular joe and I don’t end up seeming like a total boob. I asked my hub if he’d mind, and he said he didn’t, even though he’d like me to mention that he prefers the ones where I do, in fact, look like a boob. He also likes just looking at boobs. So, the fact that I often do things that make me look silly and am also in possession of a pretty nice rack works in our favor most of the time.

But I digress.

Even though we have a great engagement story, we’re really just like any other couple that has been married nine years. We’ve had ups and downs. We don’t fight a lot, mostly because when we do, he stops talking (infuriating!) and I start throwing around the Why Can’t You Evers and the I’m So Sick Ofs, and new to my repertoire since our move to North Carolina, the You Promised Mes.

It’s not pretty. So we really try to keep it to a minimum, which isn’t usually that hard considering he’s the master of conflict avoidance and I’m a pretty decent biter of the tongue. Mine, that is. And we mostly just make each other laugh and are good friends. Besties, if you will.

Those things that make us fight are pretty much the same now as they ever were. I’ve talked a bit about what they boil down to for him. But I haven’t said much about what they are for me. Anyone interested?

Trophy Husband is kind of a peg in a hole kind of guy. When faced with a decision, he chooses his solution, and whether or not it’s a good fit, once that decision is made that’s the one you get. He crosses it off of his mental list, and moves on to the next thing. He decided one time years ago that he would love me forever. Check. He decided one time that the best way to help our anxiety-prone son learn to calm down is by telling him to relax. Check. He decided one time that the way he will get me in the mood for Business Time is by groping my bazooms and raising his eyebrows. Check. I like to think it’s because he spends every second of his career problem solving, planning, predicting, and managing, so those skills are just all used up by the time he gets home. I try not to get upset about it. And I try to pick up that slack.

I’m the one that, when faced with a situation, figures out the BEST way to handle it. I read the books or hit The Google or talk to my friends, and I figure out solutions. And I revisit and tweak and analyze and if at first I don’t succeed, or even if I do, I keep at it. Improving. Streamlining. Checking the fit.

Anyone see where this is heading?

Like me, Trophy Husband has the fat gene, along with an appetite for crappy processed food, beer, and a desire to lead relatively sedentary lifestyle. So my journey from Fatass to Fabulous includes him, though he’d like it noted that he’d never use the word fabulous. Like, ever. And because I’m slugging it out all the time in this battle of the bulge, he’s slugging it out, too, by default.

I choose the plan, create the recipes, weigh the food, and count the calories. I set the alarm early so we can exercise together, because his work days are long and our evenings are loud and kid-crazy. I keep the crap out of the house and make sure we have plenty of healthy snacks around because he is a snacker and I don’t think I’ll ever change that. I spend a lot of time combing books and blogs for new recipes, because he doesn’t like to eat the same things over and over.

And I do these things partly because I want to change my own body and lifestyle, and partly because it’s my job as the stay-at-home-mom and keeper of the household, and I have always been an over-achiever in terms of my work.

But I also do this because if I didn’t, he wouldn’t either. Because he decided once what GOOD FOOD is, and it’s the stuff of his childhood. Stuff from boxes and cans and drive-thru windows.

That’s a fundamental difference between the two of us, not just in terms of weight loss, but most things. I’m the do-er and he’s the do-ee. So what happens when the do-er loses her inspiration or gets burned out or even wants to just take a night off? Well, in our household, it involves eating things like Tater Tot Casserole and Hamburger Helper. Which, as both a foodie and a weight watcher, makes me cringe from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet.

And if I am to be totally honest, it makes me angry. It makes me angry because we both have a weight problem. But somehow I became the Designated Dieter. The Chief of Motivation, Information, and Execution. The one that’s got to figure out how to lose my extra pounds AND his.

It makes me angry that, when he has a moment of weakness and just wants to pick up a six pack and some Chinese, he has me here saying no, making a healthy meal, and keeping us on track. But when I have a weak moment, I end up drinking a few Stellas and eating Pork Foo Yung.

It makes me angry that when he doesn’t feel like getting up to work out, he has me to nudge him out of bed and get him going. But when I don’t feel like getting up to work out I get an extra hour of sleep.

I get angry that he considers a membership at the Y a frivolous expense. I get angry that when I ask him to do the grocery shopping for the week, he sees it as an opportunity to get Good Food – not only the aforementioned Taters and Helpers, but also the chips and the cookie cereal and the things that his mom used to feed him. Grrr.

I get angry that he says we’re doing this together, but I’m doing the doing, and he’s doing the halfhearted follow. I feel pressured to get it right all the time, guilty when I don’t, and resentful that he doesn’t give me the support that I give him.

And I wonder from time to time why it’s so important to me. I mean, he’s already decided to love me forever, so who cares if I’m squishy and lethargic? I mean, right?

Trophy Husband feels invincible in terms of his health. He’s no longer big enough that he considers his weight to be a threat to himself, and he views these last 40 pounds mostly as a matter of vanity. He fits in his clothes, can shop in regular stores, doesn’t get too stressed about taking his shirt off at the beach, and can still dominate a game of basketball in the driveway with the neighborhood kids. And even though his (morbidly obese) best friend died two years ago of heart disease, he just doesn’t see that as something that could ever happen to him.

And it won’t, I suppose, as long as he’s got me. Because I have decided to keep our food clean and the alarm set for waytooearly o’clock and I keep on slugging. But I’m afraid to consider what would happen if I said I quit, I’m not doing this anymore.

So I don’t go there. It’s better if I don’t.

I guess this isn’t as funny as my Three Bodily Functions and an Engagement Ring stories, but it’s just as true. And I’m interested to hear what you, Jack’s loyal readers, have to say about your own divisions of labor with your partners in this journey. Because I’ll bet I’m not the only one who is challenged in this area, or the only one that’s feeling a bit worn out from carrying around the extra weight.

Ways Losing Weight is Like Writing a Letter to Santa

• Anyone can do it
• Being greedy isn’t a recipe for success
• Some people need a little help getting it started
• You feel better once it’s done
• The possibilities are limitless
• Your’s is different than everyone else’s
• Helps if you write down all the things you want
• If you can’t stop being naughty, you probably shouldn’t even bother
• Once you’ve done it, you have to continue being good
• Sometimes you feel like it’s going nowhere
• Just saying what you want doesn’t mean you’re going to get it
• You really need to be good, not just say you’ve been good
• It’s harder to do when you get older
• You really should leave out cookies
• It doesn’t work if you don’t believe

Why Can't We Be Thin?

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

I’ve been round for a long, long time.
Eating too much too often was my crime.

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

Unless you’ve been there, you wouldn’t understand,
The thrill of chasing after Onederland.

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

I bring my lunch to my office every day.
You wanna grab a burger, but I say “No way.”

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

Eat small portions of good stuff -n- stop,
And you won’t wind up a muffin-top.

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

I'd kinda like to be the Anti-Jared.
Double workouts while I’m eating a carrot.

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

Sometimes my blog is pretty ridiculous,
But my diet and workouts are meticulous.

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

It’s okay to go out to a restaurant,
As long as you don’t order what you want.

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

Giddyup

Weekly weigh-in: 202.2
Loss: -1.8
Total loss: 89.3 lbs.
Emotion: Galloping forward

Once upon a time, way back when, my not-yet-wife Anita and I went to this stable at a nearby park to take some horses out on a trail ride. These decrepit old beasts were in pretty sorry shape, and truth to tell, so was I.

They gave me Rusty, a large brown horse (Anita thinks there are all different “kinds” of horses, silly woman). I felt kind of bad sitting on his back actually, because I felt like I probably weighed just as much as he did.

Anyway, I managed to clumsily saddle up, and we started down the trail. Rusty plodded his way sure-footedly down the familiar path. It was a gorgeous summer day, but you could tell that neither of our hearts was much in the day’s adventure.

Anita was going on and on about how poor the horses were being kept and how crappy the equipment was while I was concentrating on two things and two things only: (1) trying to keep from making Rusty mad and (2) trying not to fall off.

We’d been out for quite some time, and I was starting to feel like I might just survive the outing, when suddenly, ol Rusty’s ears perked up and he started trotting.

“Wha?” I said, shocked that my zombie mount had suddenly sprung back to life. “Slow down, big fella.”

But Rusty didn’t slow down; he actually broke into a spirited gallop and I held on for dear life, though my portly ass was bouncing unmercifully on the hard saddle.

We turned the corner and I saw what Rusty knew from a lifetime of experience was just ahead: the barn… and quittin’ time.

I weighed in at a bit over 202 this morning, and folks… I know in my heart the barn is just up ahead.

My energy’s spiking with turbo-charged enthusiasm and my eating’s been spot-on despite a veritable minefield of holiday temptations. I have no doubt that I’ll be jumping the fence to 199 in the not-too-distant future.

It’s a pretty big deal for me, because I’ve wracked my brains and I simply can’t remember ever standing on a scale and not seeing the number start with “2” (and in the last twenty years, it’s been a whole lot closer to starting with a “3” than with a “1”).

I was worried that December might provide some annoying detours on my weight-loss journey, but so far… well, I’ve managed to stay in the saddle.

Here’s hoping you and your family have the most joyous holiday season imaginable.

I’ll be taking some time off from the office, but I’ll still be around here. After all, I’ve got a little work left to do.

And how do I plan on celebrating the new year?

I’m going to Onederland!

Jack Sh*t Jukebox

Little something different for "Same Old Sh*t" Saturday. I thought I'd collect all the song parodies I'd done into one spot in case you're a glutton for punishment (as well as a regular glutton). As soon as I learn to sing and play a musical instrument, I'm sure a CD will be in the works. In the meantime, there's probably some kind of "Name That Tune" drinking game that can be played with this...

Dieter-Man, Dieter-Man
Eats whatever’s on his dieter plan.
Prepares a meal, real low-cal.
He is really losing it, pal.
Cook Out!
Here comes the Dieter-Man.
Read the rest.

There’s nothing you can write that hasn’t been written.
There’s nothing you can eat that hasn’t been eaten.
Nothing new to say but you can learn how to post and play.
It's easy.
Read the rest.

Goodbye Normal Jeans,
Though I hardly knew you at all,
You had the grace to hold your fit
Even when you got too small.
Read the rest.

Sometimes it's hard to be at weigh-in.
Giving all you can to lose some weight.
You'll have bad times,
And you’ll have worse times,
Eatin’ things you know you shouldn’t have ate.
Read the rest.

I smell that bread a bakin’.
It’s cooling on the rack.
And I ain’t had carbohydrates since... oh, six months back.
I'm stuck on this low-carb diet, and time keeps draggin' by.
And I’d sell my soul on eBay… for a slice of apple pie.
Read the rest.

Here’s a little blog I penned,
You might want to read it well, my friend.
Don’t worry, eat healthy.
Read the rest.

Hit the weights, Jack, and don't you talk back–
do more, do more, do more, do more.
Hit the weights, Jack, and don't you talk back– do more.
Read the rest.

Less I weigh.
Now health troubles seem so far away.
I like exercise more than I do the buffet.
The better I do, the less I weigh.
Read the rest.

I was daydreamin' when I wrote this.
Forgive me if I blunder, man.
But when I woke up this mornin'
Coulda sworn I was in Onederland.
Read the rest.

My waist was too fat,
No one could save me but me.
Strange that I let myself go on an overeating spree.
I never dreamed that I'd weigh as much as I do,
And I never dreamed that I'd gain a pound or two.
Read the rest.

I feel swelled! Not so great!
Gonna start putting less on my plate!
Starting here, starting now,
Honey, everything's coming up losses!
Read the rest.

To all the fatties in the place with double-chins on their face,
Allow me to bust up this quiet with a little riot ‘bout my diet.
Who rocks grooves and makes moves ‘bout weight-loss issues?
The back of the club, sippin Fuze, I’m back here hollerin’.
The back of the blog, makin posts, my crew's all followin’.
Mad question askin’, advice passin’, big-ass sassin’.
But I just can't quit
Because no matter what I’m sayin’, Jackie gots another weigh-in
Read the rest.

It's a nice day to start again.
It's a nice day for a “wow” weigh-in.
It's a nice day to lose again.
Read the rest.

Hi kids! Do you like parodies?
Wanna see me take weight loss and Eminem and marry these?
Wanna copy me and do exactly like I did?
Get rid of yo fatted-up ass? Stick with me, kid.
Read the rest.

We'll be bloggin’.
While we're losing.
We'll be bloggin’.
I gain a pound.
I get it down again.
I’m never gonna let it get back up.
Read the rest.

If you wanna be more fit
Live life all the way and don't wanna waste it.
Watchin’ what you eat
Can be so very sweet, you gotta taste it (mm- hm)
Read the rest.

I was piddling in the kitchen early one morn,
When from my blender, a new concoction was born.
I mixed spinach and fruit, from my supplies,
And suddenly to my surprise…
I made a smoothie.
I made a Green Monster smoothie.
Read the rest.

With so much drama in the b-l-o-g,

It's kinda hard bein’ Jack S-h-*-t.
But I, somehow, some way

Keep comin’ up with funky diet tips like every single day.
May I kick a little something for the ol’ fat Ts,
And, make a few jokes as I breeze through.
Two in the mornin’ and my blog’s unwritten
'Cause my three kids ain’t home,
Me and Anita in the living room gettin’ it on.
Don’t gotta be at work ‘til eight in the mornin’.
Read the rest.

Hey what did you do,
Ordering burger and fries?
Getting some fast food,
Enjoying some fried pies.
Laughing and a eating, hey, hey
Stuffing and a chompin’.
In a misty lunchtime fog with
Your gut hangin’ down on you,
My big-assed friend,
You my big-assed friend.
Read the rest.

Nibblin’ on fried pies.
Watchin’ old CSI’s.
Eating some nachos covered with oil.
Bad diet, yeah sure.
Just checked my blood pressure.
Looks like my arteries are beginnin’ to boil.
Read the rest.

Everybody was gung-ho dieting.
Those cats are doing some lightening.
In fact it’s just a little bit frightening,
How much their tummies are tightening.
Read the rest.

When I got on the scale,
I was petrified.
Kept thinking I would go through my life
Being extra wide.
After spending so many nights
Eating so incredibly wrong,
I grew strong.
I knew I wasn’t too far gone.
Read the rest.

I’m at the grocery store; my brain says, “Put it back.”
No bags of corn chips, yes, I want to put them back.
I walk down the aisles dressed in my slimmer clothes.
I smile contently cuz I know how this thing goes.
Read the rest.

Who’s the tall snarky d*ck
That's a weight loss machine with all the tricks?
(Sh*t!)
You’re damn fat.
Read the rest.

Jackie the Sh*t-man
Would eat whatever he could grab,
Had a big rear end and a double chin
And two sides made out of flab.
Read the rest.

x

Just a Few More Fitness Center Conversation Starters

• “Do you know where they sell a good men’s sports bra?”
• “I’m trying to get in shape for fishin’ season.”
• “Did you know that BMI doesn’t stand for ‘Bowel Movement Indicator?’”
• “You may be able to bench press your weight, but I can eat my weight in Milk Duds.”
• “It’s a workout Snuggie, dumbass.”
• “Can you do me a favor? Watch me to a lat pull and tell me if you think it’s pretty.”
• “I just downloaded an app that tracks how many sit-ups I should have done.”
• “Do you know anyone who would trade personal training sessions for yodeling lessons?”
• “My old gym wasn’t this shiny.”
• “I think of this place as my Sweet Sweat Palace!”
• “Would you like to hear me recite a haiku?”
• “Did you know babies are born without kneecaps? It’s true!”
• “High-five! I did a push-up!”
• “Before I get started, do you happen to know CPR?”
• “I’m feeling extra exercisey today!”
• “You know what they say: ‘No pain, no assimilation of nutrients in order to facilitate muscle weight gain.’”
• “I dare you to try to bench press 1,000 pounds.”
• “My Jersey Shore nickname is ‘DJ Douchebag’.”
• “I took my aunt to the prom. Oh, I’m sorry… I thought you said ‘What’s your most embarrassing secret?’ not ‘Are you almost done on the elliptical?’”

I'm Sorry, Frosty

Jackie the Sh*t-man
Would eat whatever he could grab,
Had a big rear end and a double chin
And two sides made out of flab.

Jackie the Sh*t-man
Spent his days at the buffet.
He was made of fat,
But he said “F*ck that,”
And he came to life one day.

There must of been some magic in
That silly blog he wrote.
For when he started postin’,
Less food went down his throat.

Jackie the Sh*t-man
Was alive and feelin’ great.
And his readers know
That he’ll hit a new low
Every time he posts his weight.

Jackie the Sh*t-man
Has finally reached his goal.
And he said let’s run and have some fun
And stay under control.

Down to the weight room,
With an iPod in his hand.
Runnin’ here and there in his underwear
(Left his gym shorts in the van).

He started to hustle and built some muscle
Right to his gluteus maximus.
And to celebrate this moment,
He decided to help the rest of us.

Jackie the Sh*t-Man
Is really on his way.
Time to say goodbye, but please don't cry.
He’ll be back again Friday.

Thumpety thump thump
Thumpety thump thump
Look at Jackie go.
Thumpety thump thump
Thumpety thump thump
Over that damn plateau.

May Your Days Be Merry & Bright

As the end of the year fast approaches, it’s an appropriate time to reflect on what you’ve accomplished this year, and plot how you plan to attack the coming year.

So… how far did you make it in 2009? Get off to a good start? Zig-zag all around? Two steps forward, one step back? However far you traveled, celebrate the fact that you’re on the road to better health, even if the place or the pace isn’t exactly what you envisioned. Be proud of the fact that you’ve recognized that there’s work to be done and set about getting started. You’re moving in a positive direction, and that can’t help but be a good thing.

I realize that the holidays can be a hectic, stressful time for this weight-loss business. Parties all over the place, tantalizing holiday treats everywhere you look. The days are filled with celebrations among friends and family, where paying attention to your game plan doesn’t feel particularly festive.

Cut yourself some slack, that’s what I’d tell you. We’re not robots, immune to the fun and frivolity of the world around us. Tis’ the season for gatherings and get-togethers, mirth and merriment. Your schedule is bound to get off-track this time of year; there’s just so much to do, so little time. You may have to skip a workout to run down a Christmas gift. You may be forced to have a cup of eggnog and a slice of cake. Don’t beat yourself up…

But I will say this: cutting yourself some slack doesn’t have to mean shoveling crap in with both hands. It doesn’t necessarily give you license to pack on twenty pounds between now and New Year’s Day. Take a breather if you want, but reflect on why you’re here and remember that there’s still some heavy lifting left to do when the tinsel settles.

There’s no reason the year ahead can’t be the one where you break free from the chains that’re holding you down. That’s what I feel like right now, like a man released from shackles that were keeping him from the life he wanted, the life he deserved.

When you’re far from the summit, the mountain looks massive, forboding, unbreachable. It’s easy to see the scale of the trek ahead of you and write off your chances, say to the world and yourself that it’s just too damn difficult an undertaking. It’s just too hard…

What spurred me on, what gave me the strength to get moving myself was reading the stories of people who were conquering that mountain. Folks who were halfway up, three-quarters of the way, standing on the pinnacle and shouting to the heavens.

“This mountain can be scaled!”

That’s what the people who went before me were calling back.

“You can do it, too!”

I read their words, became inspired by their stories. Because really… they’re just plain old people like me and you (well, like you anyway…). They’re not “Biggest Loser” contestants or celebrities with access to live-in personal trainers.

Just folks committed to doing a little better, being a little bit better.

On Easter Sunday of this year, I put my head down and took that first tentative step toward my personal mountaintop. It was every bit as hard and heart-wrenching as I thought it would be, but I was continuously inspired by the people in front of me. And pretty soon, I noticed something kind of odd…

There were people behind me, too. As inconceivable as it seemed to me, there were people who had longer, harder roads than I did and who were inspired by the progress I had made. Keep on the path and I have no doubt the same thing will happen to you (if it hasn't already).

Enjoy this holiday season, and use the time to get a second wind. Once this new year hits… this new year with all its endless possibilities and potential… I’m going to be after you to get going for real.

Here’s to a wonderful holiday season.

Holiday Party Survival Tricks

You’re at a holiday party, thrown into the middle of all kinds of tasty treats, alcohol, egg nog, fruitcake, Brazil nuts… all kinds of temptations and tantalizations. Thankfully, I'm here to offer you a bunch of tips to help you navigate your way through the event...

• Always bring a pocketful of low-fat ranch dressing to dip carrot sticks in.
• Dance furiously to burn off extra calories, even if there isn’t any music.
• When you see a plate of cookies, think about me licking each one of them (because I do that at every party I go to).
• If you’re looking for a beer that’s lighter than regular beer, try “light” beer.
• Chewing on poinsettia leaves will suppress your appetite (probably due to the fact that they’re poisonous).
• Instead of eggnog, enjoy a glass of eggwhitenog.
• If there’s a bowl of chocolates, stuff them all in your mouth as quickly as possible so that they won’t wind up tempting you all evening long.
• To get a little exercise, use the restroom at the house down at the end of the block.
• When no one’s looking, spin around a couple hundred times.
• Raw vegetables are a good healthy choice, especially if you fry them up and dip them in catsup.
• While you’re talking to your boss at the office party, shake uncontrollably. It burns 40 calories an hour.
• If someone offers you a piece of cake, explain that you’re Catholic and can’t have any.
• Wear clothes that are three times too small so that you won’t feel like eating because one sugar cookie might make a button shoot off you as if shot out of a gun.
• Ask the host if he or she has a treadmill that you can drag out into the living room.
• Every time someone offers you a drink, fake a heart attack.

I'm Sorry, Isaac... Shut Your Mouth! I'm Just Talkin' About Isaac Hayes!

Sh*t!

Who’s the tall snarky d*ck
That's a weight loss machine with all the tricks?
(Sh*t!)
You’re damn fat.

Who is the man
That passes on advice with his bloggin', man?
(Sh*t!)
Can ya read it?

Who's the cat that won't pig out
When there's tasty treats about?
(Sh*t!)
Right on.

You see this cat Sh*t is a bad blogger--
(Shut your mouth!)
But I'm just talkin' about Sh*t...
(No, I mean quit eating so much)

He's a complicated man,
But no one understands him but… well… no one understands him…
(Jack Sh*t)

A Few Things Left To Do

Weekly weigh-in: 204.0
Loss: -.8
Total loss: 87.5 lbs.
Emotion: Holly jolly about my write-up on AOL

Because my dad Horace is diabetic, he doesn’t eat sweets or cake. Instead, he just “samples” them. Nevermind that those “samples” are generally larger than the “suggested serving size” (which are generally designed for mice, I’ve decided).

I was thinking about that because of the time of year, I guess. Over the years, big packages of holiday goodies have been known to show up at our office breakroom. I wouldn’t eat any of those cookies or candies, but I would “sample” them every time I walked by (and I seemed to be walking by more often than usual, come to think of it).

Harsh economic times have affected the holiday food-giving business over the last few years, I’ve noticed. Last year we didn’t get as many trays of treats as the year before, and I expect fewer still this season.

Oh, there’ll be some, to be sure… temptations aplenty, but I’m confident that I’ll be able to tap into that well of strength and determination I’ve been building up enough to say “no thanks” to a crappy grocery store sugar cookie, even if it comes adorned with sprinkles.

I’m at my goal weight now, but you’ll notice a sweet-ass little “-.8” under my weekly weigh-in numbers. Here’s my plan (and I do have a plan, mind you), and I’ve decided to quit this blog as soon as I’ve finished all three.

1. Make my assault on Onederland. That idea was simply out of the question when I began this journey, but now it seems inevitable. I’m not going to put a time limit or get crazy about it, but 4 lbs? Yeah, I think I can do that. With my eyes closed (especially around the treat table).
2. When I scribbled out my milestones over on the side of my blog, I obviously did it without putting a whole bunch of thought into it. I said that I’d sacrifice my dog when I lost 90 lbs. after all. I never seriously intended to kill my dog Dip (but please don’t tell her that; she’s been on her best behavior of late), but I don’t think I seriously intended to lose 90 lbs either. And 100? I stopped there because it’s a big round number, but part of me thinks that it would be something to lose 100 lbs. That’s rarefied air, I think. I’m going to see how it goes, but it definitely on my radar, even if I only get there for a few minutes.
3. I plan on keeping this weight off for the rest of my life. That means being smart about what I do and smart about what I eat. It means not losing focus on the big picture or all the little pictures that make up the big picture. It means learning a whole new set of rules and guidelines that’ll allow me to balance good times and good choices. It’s a skill-set that I’m sure will take a lifetime to master, but luckily that’s exactly how long I’ve got to commit to it.

So… as soon as I wrap up these three goals, I’m blowing this pop-stand.

x

Clear Out a Guest Room...

Welcome to “Same Old Sh*t” Saturday, where I go away and do fun things and make you read something that I wrote and posted months ago. Yay! Since I started my weight-loss blogapalooza back in April, I’ve written hundreds of posts, but this one (thanks to the magic of StumbleUpon) has been the most highly viewed by a four- or five-to-one margin. Truthfully, I never know how some of the stuff I write is going to be received; I was a little worried that this one would come off as too preachy, but it was definitely delivered from the heart.

You’re having problems losing this weight, maybe.

Teeter-tottering back and forth on the scale. Small gain this week, small loss next.

Three good days, one bad weekend.

Nothing that allows you to get any traction.

I feel for you; I really do. I read blogs by people who can’t seem to get going with their weight loss efforts, can’t seem to make that spark happen, and it makes me want to go to their house and bang on the flint with ‘em. It makes me want to drop everything and make it my mission to push them… push you… up that hard-to-climb hill.

You know what I’d do?

• I’d drag you, kicking and screaming if I had to, to the gym every day. “How about an ‘off” day?” you’d cry. “How about a ‘Fat Off’ Day?” I’d respond. I’d find whatever it is that motivates you… kind words, gentle prodding or harsh taunting… and I’d coax a good half hour to 45 minutes out of you. You’d hate me at the end of it, but you’d hate me with a smile on your sweaty mug.
• I’d fix you stay-at-home dinners that would both intrigue you and fill you up, enough so that you might not have the urge to sneak back to the pantry before bedtime (not that it would matter, since I would have filled a Hefty bag with every processed snack product I could find). I’d insist that we eat slowly and drink lots of water during dinner. I’d remind you that you don’t have to scrape the plate clean. With my cooking, you probably won’t need that much urging.
• I’d unplug your TV and computer at 10 p.m. or so and shoo you to bed. F*ck the beauty sleep; you need energy sleep.
• I’d get you up bright and early and feed you a hearty breakfast. “I can’t lose weight eating like this,” you’d protest, and I’d just smile a knowing smile. “Don’t forget the lunch I packed you.” Before you left, I’d take the money out of your wallet because… well, let’s just say I don’t quite trust you yet.
• We’d go on long walks, you and I. Long, brisk walks. We’d talk about our hopes and dreams, our goals and aspirations, my endless collection of really stupid jokes. Whatever. Important stuff or not. The walking’s the important thing.
• If you hate your job, I mean really and truly despise it, then I’d plot and plan with you to figure out some way to either make it better for yourself or help you find a new one. You hate your body… that’s enough things to hate for one person at one time.
• I’d make you so many smoothies you’d start to cringe when you heard the blender fire up, and there’s one question I’d refuse to answer: “What’s in this anyway?”
• Don’t think I’d be doing this for completely selfless reasons either. One of the reasons I spend so much time on these blogs is that I feed off the spirit of others who are facing (and overcoming) the same hurdles and challenges that I am. We’re all on our own, at the end of the day, but we’re all in this together, too. I draw energy from that idea.
• And speaking of energy, I’d do everything I could to instill some focus and extra drive in you and we’d attack this problem… and make no mistake about it, my friend, this is a problem that needs to be owned up to and solved. We’d make a plan about eating and we'd make a plan about exercise, and then we'd start doing the hard part: we’d stick to it. This wouldn’t be just about burning calories; it’d be about incinerating them.
• And then there’s the fun part: I’d walk you up to that weigh-in with certainty and confidence, and I’d high-five you when you rock that scale and console you when it cheated us out of that loss that we so richly deserved.

We could do this, you and I. I’m certain that we could. I have not a doubt in this world.

But I can’t do it with you, right now. There’s too much on my plate at the moment (well, not literally… but you know what I mean). I can’t do it with you right now, but everything I’d do with you, you can do for yourself if you put your mind to it.

I hope you will do it. If you will, I promise you two things: (1) you’ll see results and (2) somewhere, be it just down the street, across the country or around the world, there’s at least one person right there with you, trying their best, working hard at doing what’s right and getting ready to face whatever it is tomorrow will bring.

Let’s do this.

Opposite Day

I’m sick and tired of all this weight-loss mumbo-jumbo. I come on here every day and write something silly or pen something sappy, and you come waste your time skimming over whatever hodgepodge gobbledygook I happen to fart out.

So in the spirit of completely phoning a post in, here’s some tips to make sure your next weigh-in doesn’t drop you too, too much…

• You don’t have to workout on days that end in “y”.
• Dog paddling can burn up to 10 calories an hour; dog paddling in water will burn even more.
• Driving by a YMCA earns you three activity points
• That tuna salad could use a little more mayonnaise
• Wearing sweatpants in public isn’t always perceived as a sign of giving up
• Low energy can cramp your style… and nothing provides a quicker energy boost than Twix bars dipped into a can of vanilla frosting.
• Most Mexican restaurants will keep bringing you baskets of chips if you ask.
• Most scales are generally five pounds “off,” so be sure and take that into account before registering your WI numbers
• If you go to one of those fancy gyms with the treadmills with the TV sets built right in and you just stand there and watch the Soap Opera Channel for an hour… hey, that still counts.
• Eat smaller meals throughout the day… roughly every 20 minutes.
• If you have a good weight-loss week, you deserve to blow it out over the weekend.
• If you’re looking for a substitute for butter on your toast in the morning, why not try fudge?
• Staying up all night farting around on the internet is just as good as sleeping eight hours.
• People will tell you that eating too many carbs is bad for you, which is why I encourage you to quit listening to people so much.
• If you wear a wide belt, nobody will notice that you have your pants unbuttoned.
• A glass of half-and-half has a tremendous amount of calcium.
• If nobody sees you eat it, it doesn’t count against you.
• Make it your goal to be more like Jillian; that is, be a total bitch to everyone around you.
• You know what’s a good appetite suppressant? Belgian waffles and syrup! I don’t know why it works, but it does.

I take my Opposite Day responsibilities extremely seriously, so I plan on leaving comments all over the weight-loss blogosphere today and passing on some really horrible advice.

Have a craptastic day and an even worse weekend.

x

100 Things I’d Rather Do Than Gain My Weight Back

1. Lick a mile of asphalt
2. Tape grapefruit halves to my knees and wear them around for a month
3. Begin each day listening to an hour-long audio of my father Horace explaining why Sarah Palin is right on the money
4. Swallow a 9V battery
5. Play strip poker with all my aunts and uncles
6. Flush my wallet down the toilet
7. Have my portrait taken at Walmart
8. Get sprayed in the face with Easy-Off oven cleaner
9. Forever believe that stepping on a crack would actually break my mother’s back
10. Be either person in this conversation: "Hey, whatcha doing tonight, bro?" "Boozin'."
11. Develop an irrational fear of Chapstick
12. Drive a baby blue minivan
13. Go see the world’s most boring opera
14. Fish
15. Go see the world’s most exciting opera
16. Have all my sentences mysteriously start ending with the phrase “Boy, howdy”
17. Get kicked in the crotch by a donkey
18. Be pen pals with a death row inmaate
    
19. Know only 75 words
20. Start speaking like James Earl Jones
    
21. Always have to answer the phone: "Yello"
22. Develop a taste for Christian rock
23. Wear a "Home of the Whopper" belt buckle to a job interview
    
24. Eat pancakes with no syrup or silverware
    
25. French kiss a buffalo
26. Constantly forget the words to the "Happy Birthday" song
    
27. Have a 4-hour conversation with Keanu Reeves about guacamole
28. Ski pantsless
29. Get a tattoo of Popeye giving Bluto a lap-dance
30. Convert to any religion for a year
31. Drink cold hot chocolate with no marshmallows
32. Make out with Rosanne Barr
33. Have all my teeth yanked and replaced with gummi teeth
34. Listen to Barry Manilow singing Snoop Dogg’s greatest hits
35. Give myself hourly wedgies for a month
36. Be the designated driver at an Oktoberfest party
37. Cough up my own liver
38. Get a tetanus shot in the forehead
39. Listen to my mom tell a story about losing her virginity
40. Wear a thong made of steel wool
41. Clean a men’s public restroom with my toothbrush
42. Watch a reality TV show about the making of a reality TV show
43. Be a telemarketer for a year
44. Gargle with my own urine
45. Take LSD and watch open-heart surgery on the Discovery Channel
46. Eat a puppy sandwich at a PETA convention
47. Spend a Saturday afternoon at Bed, Bath & Beyond
48. Be one of the Smothers Brothers
49. Carry a giant bag of bark wherever I go
50. Think that I'm speaking Spanish when I'm really speaking gibberish
51. Watch old people dance
52. Go back to dial-up internet connection
53. Wear Victoria's Secret PINK brand sweatpants
54. Vacuum my eyeballs with a Shop-Vac
55. Get a full-body massage from Al Gore
56. Wear a Speedo to church
57. Have my colonoscopy broadcast on network TV
58. Be stuck in an elevator with a troupe of flatulent mimes
59. Randomly call numbers from the phone book and demand "Who dis?!"
60. Wax off 85% of my back hair
61. Do a 10,000 piece puzzle of a dozen polar bears break-dancing in a blizzard
62. Put a sticky note on every object in my house, identifying its purpose
63. Watch sausage and/or babies get made
64. Wear Elton John glasses for three months
65. Ask Tom Cruise about Scientology
66. Glue my mailbox shut
67. Run barefoot across a construction site
68. Watch nuns knit
69. Repeatedly bang my knee on coffee table
70. Create a flag that will represent my own nation
71. Go to a toy store and try to purchase a Monopoly game using Monopoly money
72. Go to Vegas and boycott drinking and gambling
73. Pour boiling water up my nose
74. Invent a new language consisting only of variations in the tone of armpit farts
75. Develop an allergy to mittens
76. Whenever I meet someone, announce that I'm the one who coined the phrase "coin the phrase"
77. Sleep wearing a fur unitard and ice skates
    
78. Mop-water enema
79. Go through a car wash with my windows rolled down
    
80. Fit Rush Limbaugh for assless chaps
81. Drink water out of toilet in Mexico City
82. Call 4-11 and shout "Oh my God! He's trying to kill me!"
83. Pierce my Johnson
84. Inadvertently be the cause of Coca-Cola going out of business
85. Be a Pro Bowling Tour groupie
86. After getting my drink on, wake up in a jail cell in a foreign country wearing a tuxedo that doesn't belong to me
    
87. Lose my teddy bear
88. Lick the crust out of my dog Dip’s eyeball
89. Drive with my seat scooted all the way up
90. Go to Dollyworld
91. Live in one of those houses where everything’s slanted
92. Have the navigational system in my car start talking in an Aussie accent
93. Super Glue a gerbil to my forehead
94. Inherit the national debt
95. Take a job as a change-maker in a video arcade
96. Be glow-in-the-dark for six months
97. Be burned in effigy
98. Milk a cat
99. Eat less and exercise more
100. Write a list of 100 things I'd rather do than gain the weight back
     

I Want You to Give Me 55% Today

People who are good at math try to tell me that it’s impossible to give 110% like I always make a concerted effort to do. My argument is a simple one. Can you give 100%? Well, then just do that… then do 10% more.

But some folks still insist that giving that much is physically impossible, and I suppose for them it is.

So I’ll tell you what: how about giving 55% today?

That doesn’t sound so intimidating, does it? That doesn’t even sound all that difficult, when you stop and think about it. I mean, that’s just a little more than a completely half-hearted effort. Anybody can do that. Right?

You can do just a little better than what you’ve been doing, even if you haven’t been doing very much. I mean, anyone can do that, and a little’s better than nothing. Right?

Maybe 55% can be your baseline, the foundation–in terms of effort you’re willing to dedicate to achieving your goals–that you can lay down and build on for the future. It may not be much, but it’s certainly a start.

Teddy Roosevelt once said “Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure...than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.” However, if you take that 55% approach, you can just paraphrase it to “It’s okay to dare miniscule things, to win tiny triumphs, to not try too, too hard… because… well, just because.”

Hmmmmm, that doesn’t really stir my heart or make me want to jump out of the airplane into the wild blue yonder. It doesn’t lift my spirits, and it sure doesn’t stoke the fires of my weight-loss engine.

Maybe it’s time for us both to admit that putting in a half-ass effort is only okay if you’re interested in half-ass results, if you’re content thinking that the way things are is the way things have to be.

I started this post thinking that I was going to try to egg you on to give a 55% effort, to at least give half of what I think you ought to be dedicating to this weight-loss journey you’re on, but I just don’t think I can do that today.

I think you’re worth more than that.

I think you’re better than that.

I goof a lot in this space, but this is oh-so serious business. This is really the beginning of a new day, and what you’ll make out of this new day is entirely up to you. Whether you want to squander it, whether you want to put in a lackluster effort or whether you want to strive to really get after it and make the most of it, I don’t have much control over how you approach this journey (after all, I can’t even make my kids do what I want them to do). At the end of the day, it’s all on you.

It’s your day to do with as you will. But I can tell you this: tomorrow’s coming right away, and when it comes, this day will be nothing but a fleeting memory. What you do today is important because you exchanged a precious piece of your life for it, and it’d be nice if you had something positive to show for it.

55%?

I don't think so.

Give it your all.

I’m Sorry, Rolling Stones

I’m at the grocery store; my brain says, “Put it back.”
No bags of corn chips, yes, I want to put them back.
I walk down the aisles dressed in my slimmer clothes.
I smile contently cuz I know how this thing goes.

I see a line of carts, and they’re all filled with crap.
I can’t say what I want ‘cause it would cause a flap.
I see people all around turn their heads and look my way.
I need to shop like this until my dying day.

I look inside myself and say to myself, “Jack,
If corn syrup’s in there, man, you need to put it back.”
Maybe then I’ll fade away cuz it’s time to face the facts.
It’s not easy facin’ up when your whole world is fat.

No more will my old bod go to a greater weight.
I could not foresee this thing happening today.
If I look hard enough at that spinning scale,
I start to see the fit guy that lives inside this shell.

I grab some Cheese Whiz, but then I put it back.
I put it up alongside the other crap on that rack.
I see my old life come to a satisfactory close .
I’m living better, hey, you know how this sh*t goes.
Hmm, hmm, hmm,...

I wanna keep it, keep it, keep it all on track.
Fit is right, fit is good
I wanna see this fat blotted out from my gut
I swear I’ll never, never, never, never give it back
Yeah!

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You’ll Go Down in History

Charlie-In-The-Box: I'm the official sentry of the Isle of Misfit toys.
Hermey: A jack-in-the-box for a sentry?
Charlie-In-The-Box: Yes. My name is...
Rudolph: Don't tell me: Jack.
Charlie-In-The-Box: No, Charlie. That's why I'm a misfit toy. My name is all wrong. No child wants to play with a Charlie-In-The-Box so I had to come here.



Unless you’re of a certain age, the story doesn’t resonate.

No, not the story of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”, dumbass. That story resonates with all God’s children.

No, I mean the classic story of “Jack Sh*t Having to Watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”.

I guess I was six or seven years old, and had settled in to get my Rudolph on. I was sitting there cross-legged, about two feet from the front of the set in my prime TV-watching position. The show started in an hour-and-a-half, and I wasn’t going to miss one second of it.

I was so engrossed in my TV watching that I didn’t notice my parents packing the car, didn’t pay any attention to them getting their coats on, ignored them when they called out “Jack, ready to go?”

“Whaaa?” I moaned confusedly, and my mother Shirley patiently explained that we were making the two-hour drive to see the grandparents.

“Huh?” I moaned, and she reached down and flicked the television set off. “I told you we were going this weekend,” she said. “Now go get in the car right now.”

This is the part of the story that my own kids don’t understand.

“Why didn’t you just set it to record on the DVR?” asked Pisa, my 10-year-old daughter.

“Didn’t you own a copy of it if you liked it so much?” asked Holly, my 17-year-old daughter.

“They didn’t even have VHS tapes,” my 21-year-old daughter Noe explains to the others. “Get this: they didn’t even have a remote control.”

“I’m scared,” says Pisa, shivering.

It never ceases to freak them all out to hear about our TV watching habits in the olden days. Yes, if you wanted to watch a show, you had to sit there when it came on and watch it right then and there. If you missed it, you… well, you missed it.

So cut back to that brave young lad in the backseat of his father Horace’s Oldsmobile. Did he take this disappointment with courage and good grace? With understanding and a discernment that belied his young age?

Oh hell no.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I cried a little, and by “a little,” I mean for 45 minutes at maximum volume and intensity. We had crossed the state line and I was still wailing like a banshee. Horace was threatening to veer into oncoming traffic if I didn’t stop, but Shirley was getting worried.

“Maybe he’s hurt,” she frowned. “Are you hurt, Jackie?”

“I WANNA WATCH RUDOLPH!” I sobbed, and even my younger sister was starting to get upset.

My parents were only human, so about five minutes later, Horace testily pulled the Olds into a big sweeping U-turn and we headed home. My cries began ratcheting down the closer we got to the living room TV set.

We pulled into the driveway with three minutes to spare, and Shirley sat my butt right back in the spot I had so happily previously occupied.

“YOU ARE GOING TO SIT RIGHT THERE,” she sneered menacingly. “AND YOU’RE GOING TO WATCH EVERY COTTON-PICKIN’ SECOND OF RUDOLPH!”

I simply smiled back.

Since that night, each year I get a call from my mother whenever “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” is on network TV. She call to to remind me that it’s on, and warns me I had better have my ass in a chair in from of that set and watch every cotton-pickin’ second of it.

I like to think that I get some of my determination from Mom’s side of the family.

All Evidence to the Contrary, I am Normal

Weekly weigh-in: 204.8
Loss: -1.5
Total loss: 86.7 lbs.
Emotion: Uncommonly Normal

Talk about your punch in the gut: it’s a day or so after Christmas last year and I’m standing there on our brand spankin’ new Wii Fit board, getting my first weigh-in for my cute lil’ Mii character (he looks just like me, by the way). Anyway, the scale spins and suddenly the TV chirps out in an elf voice: “Oh, that’s obese.”

Worse than that, my lil’ Mii character has just plumped out noticeably, sending my 10-year-old daughter Pisa bursting into hysterical laughter.

Check that: now my not-so-lil’ Mii character looks just like me. *sigh*

Well, that was then and this is now, and now definitely ain’t then.

See, I just stepped on the Wii Fit board this morning and made some magic happen.

It seems I am NORMAL.

Not Morbidly Obese, not Obese, not Overweight… just a regular ol’ plain-as-can-be Normal guy (okay, we both know that I’m not “normal” normal, but, well, you know what I mean...).

This journey is about taking a step in the right direction… and then following it up with another step and another and another. It doesn’t happen overnight… but the sooner you start, the sooner you’ll arrive. And I’m here to tell you that arriving… crossing that razor-thin line between Obese and Overweight, between Overweight and Normal... well, it feels mighty fine.

My lil’ Mii character jumped for joy.

So did I.

Egged on by the success of my lil’ Mii partner, I dragged the last two too-tight pairs of pants out of my top closet shelf and tried ‘em on.

Done and done.

I no longer own a pair of pants that don’t fit. Check that: I own lots and lots of too-big trousers, but none that are too small to wear anymore.

Thus ends my game of “Last Pants Standing.” Who was the winner? I was, of course.

I’m sitting here writing this, wearing pants that I had basically given up on this time last year, reminiscing about that sinking feeling I got when my Wii Fit called me “obese". I’m not that person anymore, and it occurs to me that a name change might be in order.

Jack Sh*t, Gettin’ Fit?

Uh uh.

Jack Sh*t Done Got Fit.

Hmmmm, still needs work.

Then again, so do I.

Day of Reckoning

Welcome to "Same Old Sh*t" Saturday, where I reheat and rehash old posts in order to pry myself away from the computer at least one day a week. This well-recieved post surprised me by inspiring a lot of readers to comment on their own special day when they flipped a switch and really... and I mean, really and truly... began their weight-loss journey. I can't remember a batch of comments I enjoyed reading more.

“When a defining moment comes along,
you define the moment... or the moment defines you.”

–Roy 'Tin Cup' McAvoy

My friend Sandy over at 45+ and Aspiring recently had her “Day of Reckoning,” the moment where she drew a line in the sand and said “This is it. This stops right here and goes no farther.” I get goose bumps just thinking about it.

If you’ve stopped by today looking for a couple of yuks, I encourage you to either back-track through the archives or check back tomorrow. Today is about that day of reckoning. Sandy’s, my own, maybe even your’s.

My DoR came on Easter Sunday of this past year. While you were busy scarfing down jelly beans and biting the heads off chocolate bunnies, I was home alone (my family was on a trip out of town). What I did with my holiday solitude was something that was long overdue: I finally took a good hard look at myself in the mirror. Truth to tell, I didn’t like the obese son-on-a-b*tch staring back at me one bit. I knew it was time… maybe my last chance… to take a stand.

I know that sounds overly dramatic, but this is a life-and-death situation we’re talking about, you know. Obesity and all its assorted running buddies are things that will just shut you down for good. So maybe I’m being overly dramatic or maybe I’m simply opening my eyes to what’s really going on.

Here’s the situation (and now I’m talking about you, too): we’re getting older every day, and this weight loss journey will never, ever be any easier than it is today. I don’t know where you are on life’s great golf course, but I’m on the back nine, where time and metabolism tag-team to make you want to give in and learn to love the love handles. A lot of people do give in, apparently. They either give in or make such a half-hearted fight of it that they might as well surrender.

But guess what? We’re not most people. I’m certainly not, and I suspect that you aren’t either. We’re putting our stories–our lives–out there for the whole world to see, to be a part of, to judge. For God sakes, we’re putting how much we weigh out there. Granted, we may have too much of a paunch, but nobody can say we don’t have guts.

Which brings me back to that whole “Day of Reckoning” business. When I decided it was honestly and truly gut-check time, positive things started happening in my life. Sure it was hard to get going and sure there were times when I questioned if I had what it takes to do this. But I kept at it, and (almost 50 lbs lighter) I’m keeping on keeping at it.

I can feel the changes taking place in my body, and I know I’m doing good work. I take all the compliments and comments I can get, but the real satisfaction is in knowing that I’m fighting the good fight, winning most days and at least holding my own on the rest.

I seriously doubt there’s a single person reading this that doesn’t know exactly what he or she has to do to lose weight. But unless you’ve had that day of reckoning, that moment when you know in your head and in your heart that it’s time to make it happen, I’m just not certain it will happen. This is an undertaking that not only takes it off of you, it takes it out of you.

I read a lot of weight loss blogs, and there’s nothing I enjoy more than discovering those true success stories and backtracking through their entire chronicle. In just about every case, you can see their spirit through their words, feel the steel in their voice. Even if you didn’t already know they’d lost 100 lbs. or more, you get a sense that they were going to, that nothing was going to stop them.

I am on a journey. I post a lot of non-stop nonsense, but make no mistake that I am on an adventure in which failure simply is not a consideration. I’m losing, and I’ll keep losing. I have no doubt in the world that my fat-to-fit trek will end in success.

I’ve had my day of reckoning, after all.

How about you?

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