How to Get Your Ass Out of a Hole in the Ground

Weekly weigh-in: 198.7
Loss: -0.3
Total loss: 93.8 lbs.
Emotion: Steadfast

My Grandpa Noah once told me about a donkey he had back when he and my grandmother lived on a farm in rural Tennessee. He had this really ornery donkey named Donkey Odie who managed to fall down into a well one day. Donkey Odie cried and cried, but Grandpa Noah couldn’t figure out what to do about it.

Finally, he decided that Donkey Odie was old and used-up, and the
well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to try to retrieve the donkey, even if he could figure out some way to do it..

“Fannie Mae,” he yelled inside for my grandmother. “Invite all the neighbors to come over for a cookout. Then I’ll get them to help me bury Donkey Odie.

After dinner, the fellows all grabbed a spades and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, Donkey Odie realized what was going o and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement, he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, Grandpa Noah finally looked down into the well and was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his
back, Donkey Odie was doing something amazing.

He would shake it off and take a step up.

As Grandpa Noah’s neighbors continued to shoveldirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up.

Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as Donkey Odie stepped up over t he edge of the well and happily trotted off!

“Life is going to shovel dirt on you,” I remember Grandpa Noah telling me. “The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up.”

Is that a true story, Grandpa Noah?” I asked him.

“No, Jackie,” he admitted, smiling. “It’s just a parable.”

“What’s a parable?”

“It’s kind of like a henway,” he told me.

“What’s a henway?” I asked, puzzled.

“About four or five pounds,” he smiled.

I like to think I got my sense of humor from Grandpa Noah’s side of the family.

Why I Heart My Weight Loss Blog

Welcome to "Same Old Sh*t" Saturday, because just like with my workouts, six days in a row of getting after it a week feels just about right. This is my off-day, where I drag something out of my archive that has some special meaning, has a nice message or just made me laugh when I re-read it. This post marks my first adventure in trying something kind of different in this space. I planned on doing more posts like this, but I never did. I still feel like this about my blog though...

Writin' Diet-y

I'm Sorry, Chamillionaire and Krayzie Bone

They see me bloggin’.
Commentin’.
People they clickin’ to catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
I’m eatin’ so good.
I'm losin’.
Losin’ so much, it’s got me writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.

When I started I was way too fat,
Was just obese and that was that.
Had been on lots of diets, but they all went splat.
Got a good start but then they all fell flat.
Would get crazy when I’d whiff an aroma.
Spent time when I was all alone-a,
Eating til I was ‘bout in a coma.
Grew to the size of Oklahoma.
Girl y’know, I was inna size triple XL.
Had less muscle than a baby snail.
Groaned every time I stepped up on the scale.
Well, why am I such a bloated whale?
Spent most days buyin’ more snacks for us.
Shopping for the next-size-up slacks for us.
It’a subject I sure didn’t wanna discuss,
My ever-expanding gluteus maximus.
Sorry, but I was a hungry bloke,
Eatin’ til I was about to choke.
Three times as much as regular folk.
Wash it all down with a Diet Coke.
My whole body was takin’ a bruisin’
From the way I was constantly abusin’.
You’re laughing right now but it wasn’t amusin’.
Cuz I spent my life confused but still not losin’.

They see me bloggin’.
Commentin’.
People they clickin’ to catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
I’m eatin’ so good.
I'm losin’.
Losin’ so much, it’s got me writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.


Then it all got mysterious,
How I took this sh*t and got serious.
Had to figure it out on my own, solve the riddle of the great unknown,
Work my fingers down to the bone.
Time to get back in the gym again, thin the skin, my friend, begin again if I can again.
Doin’ a hundred sit-ups as I huff and puff,
Cough a lung right up, it’s amazing what happens when you give a f*ck.
I got a barbell–10 lb size, 40 oz water bottle between my thighs.
Gonna be hard, I know you know, yo.
But I’m gonna finally find my mojo.
I gotta get back to the basics.
Almost dead doin’ what the trainer said, I got do squat squat shots til I hurt a lot.
Oh gee, I hope my PT don't see me, trying to flee.
She looks at me like I’m strange at times, when I bust the rhymes.
Gets aggravated, heart rate elevated when I pay with nickels and dimes.
But I’m keeping at it, and I’m feelin’ strong, and I feel like I’m back where I belong.
Getting’ back lean and getting’ back fit, back to bein’ proud to being Jack Sh*t.

They see me bloggin’.
Commentin’.
People they clickin’ to catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
I’m eatin’ so good.
I'm losin’.
Losin’ so much, it’s got me writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.

Ten months in, feelin’ thin, found the healthy man within.
Knocked one layer off my double chin.
Bloggin’ my journey to let folks know, their lives don’t have to be filled with woe.
Tell ‘em they gotta learn to walk before they take off flyin’.
If it don’t happen this week, well, keep on tryin’
Less food fryin’ and more complyin’.
I’ve hit my goal, you can hit yours’, too.
Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ you but you.
Drop the excuses and make your move,
Cause you got something more to prove.
Time to take this journey to a higher plane, get on track with this weight-loss train
I think I can, I think you can, too… time for those pounds to go down the drain.
I'mma get after you then I'mma laugh with you, cuz we’re gonna get fit, coo coo ka choo.
Take our fat pants and tell ‘em we’re through.
Take our tent shirts and say “F YOU TOO!”
We’re taking back our health, takin’ back our lives.
Gonna stay fit til the end arrives.
From a fat duckling to a stately swan.
Sleep easy knowin’ that it’s a brand new dawn.
And when we wake up, we wake up knowing that this sh*t is on!

They see me bloggin’.
Commentin’.
People they clickin’ to catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
I’m eatin’ so good.
I'm losin’.
Losin’ so much, it’s got me writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.

Chicken Not-So-Little

Chicken Not-So-Little was in her bathroom one day when she stood on the scale and saw that she had gained two pounds over the course of a week. It scared her so much she trembled all over. She shook so hard, half her feathers fell out.

“Help! Help!” she blogged. “The sky is falling! The sky is falling! I have to go rejoin Weight Watchers!”

So she ran in great fright to rejoin Weight Watchers. Along the way she met Carby-Barbie.

“Where are you going, Chicken Not-So-Little?” asked Carby-Barbie.

“Oh, help! The sky is falling!” wailed Chicken Not-So-Little. “I gained two pounds this week and I must go rejoin Weight Watchers right now.

“Why don’t you just go on Adkins?” asked Carby-Barbie.

“What’s that?” asked Chicken Not-So-Little.

Carby-Barbie explained: “The Atkins Diet involves restriction of carbohydrates to more frequently switch the body's metabolism from burning glucose as fuel to burning stored body fat. This process, called ketosis, begins when insulin levels are low; in normal humans, insulin is lowest when blood glucose levels are low (mostly before eating). Ketosis lipolysis occurs when some of the lipid stores in fat cells are transferred to the blood and are thereby used for energy. On the other hand, caloric carbohydrates (e.g., glucose or starch, the latter made of chains of glucose) impact the body by increasing blood sugar after consumption. Lastly, because of fiber's low digestibility, it provides little or no food energy and does not significantly impact glucose and insulin levels.”

“Oh my!” explaimed Chicken Not-So-Little. “I didn’t understand a word you said.”

“What’s up, ladies?” asked Flexy-Lexy, who was on his way to the gym.

“Oh, help! The sky is falling!” wailed Chicken Not-So-Little. “I gained two pounds this week and I must go start eating nothing but meat right now!”

“No, no,” said Flexy-Lexy. “What you need to do is up your workouts, rev up your metabolism. It’s all about burning calories.”

“I don’t have to count points or eat an all-protein diet?” asked Chicken Not-So-Little.

“Nope,” said Flexy-Lexy. “You just need to hire me as your personal trainer and I’ll get you on an exercise plan that blasts off those pounds and many more.”

“But you won’t stick with that,” chided Carby-Barbie. “You’ll see quicker results with Adkins.”

“I’m just so confused!” wailed Chicken Not-So-Little sadly.

“What’s got you confused?” asked Sh*tty-Witty, who happened to be passing by.

“The sky is falling!” cried Chicken Not-So-Little. “I gained two pounds this week and I must go start eating nothing but meat right now and work out all the time!”

“That’s silly, Chicken Not-So-Little,” said Sh*tty-Witty calmly. “You’ve been doing so well just eating more sensibly and exercising a little more frequently. Why not just keep doing what you’ve been doing and trust that the numbers will work themselves out in the end?”

“That’s very sensible advice,” said Chicken Not-So-Little, and so she went home and continued doing what she had been doing, eating more sensibly and exercising a little more frequently.

The next week, Sh*tty-Witty saw Chicken Not-So-Little running down the street and wailing as loudly as she could.

“The scale is falling! The scale is falling!”

-The End-

An Unexpected Guest

There’s one thing about Tony (“The Anti-Jared”) Posnanski, and I think he’d be the first to tell you this if he were here: he does not understand the whole guest post thing. Just like he does most days over at his place, Tony brings you an experience you’re not expecting. He zigs when, quite frankly, you’re expecting some sort of zagging. The perspective he has on what we’re all going through is incredibly unique, because few of us have fallen lower or risen higher during our own journeys. I’ve never met the man, never shaken his hand, never spoken to him on the phone, but I’m proud to call Tony a friend.




I really do not understand the whole guest post thing.

In all fairness, I do not understand a lot of things.

Actually, I am writing this at 11:30 on a Saturday night. I am waiting for my son to wake up so I can give him his nightly feeding so I can go to bed. I have to work early on Sunday. The good news is I can wear jeans!!!!

I guess I just want to tell Jack “thank you”. Since he started blogging a few months ago, he has energized me. I love reading his posts. Some hit me hard, some make me laugh. Some are extremely long so I do not read them (I have a short attention span) and… well, I forgot what I was talking about.

Oh yeah. Jack has made me a better blogger.

A few months ago I commented that he should do a song parody to “Walking in Memphis” by Marc Cohn (if you say you like the Lonestar version better, well, don’t say it!)

Well, he never did, so I thought I would do a chop version of it. Like he was singing it.

I am sorry, Marc Cohn

Put on my blue wrestling mask,

And I sat down to blog. 

Commented on almost every weight loss blog,

In the middle of my silent post.


T.J. Booboo -- won't you cook something for me?

Yeah I got a lot of followers,

But I'm as happy as a WW member can be.



Then I'm blogging in Memphis.

Blogging with Anita and Pisa playing checkers.

Blogging in Memphis,

But do you really know how great you make me feel? 



Saw the ghost of Mizfit 

On Blogher Avenue.

Commented her up to get a free giveaway, 

But Jen beat me right through! 

Now Notjustcelery did not comment;

She already had a BOSU ball.

But there's pair of New Balance shoes

Waiting for the Sh*t…. 

I’ll send Miz my address. 



Blogging in Memphis.

Blogging with Anita and Pisa playing chess.

Blogging in Memphis,

But do you really know how great you make me feel?



I’ve got weigh-ins every Sunday.

I’ve got song parodies throughout the week. 

And inspirational posts… I’m glad to write those.

You may think you haven't got a prayer,

But boy, you've got a friend in Memphis.



Now Pastaqueen writes 
Everyday on her fantastic site,

And they brought me down to see her 

And they asked me if I would --

Write a post about movies
That kind of had a weight loss theme to them
(Ex. “Tootsie” Roll, Field of Drumsticks)

And I wrote with all my might. 

And she said -- 
“Tell me are you a weight loss blogger?”

And I said “Jenette, I am tonight.” 



Blogging in Memphis.

Blogging with Anita and Pisa playing Scrabble.

Blogging in Memphis, 

But do you really know how great you make me feel?



In all seriousness, Jack is a one of a kind. I am glad he is blogging, and I am proud to call him my friend. As much as I help people, he probably has no idea how much he has inspired my blog over the last year.

You will always have me as a follower.

Take It From Me...

• They say you can’t beat salmon, but you can if you have a good salmon-beater (mine came from Williams-Sonoma).
• Squirting that spray pancake batter in your mouth because the canister looks like whipped cream isn’t such a bright idea.
• Theoretically, running backwards on a treadmill ought to work a whole different set of muscles…
• There’s no healthy way to make s’mores.
• Before you give somebody the stink-eye for using the little scooters at the grocery store, it’s a good idea to make sure the person has legs.
• They no longer sell running shoes with soles made of Flubber®.
• Half-and-half is poorly named; it does not have half the calories of regular milk.
• If you like eating almonds as a snack, it is not cost-effective to buy a bunch of Almond Joy bars and pick the nuts out of the middle of them.
• I’m not saying scientists should stop working on a cure for cancer, but can’t a few of them work on solving thigh chaffing, too?
• If the weight you’re lifting doesn’t make you say something at least halfway naughty, it’s not heavy enough.
• If you weigh in in the nude, you should probably do it in the bathroomwith the door shut and not in the living room in front of your in-laws.
• 
If you can't afford a good pair of running shoes, just wrapping duct tape around your feet isn't really a suitable substitute.

• Salads are healthy but you can dillute their benefits by adding cheese, croutons or fudge.
• People will pipe up and say something when you lose a few pounds, but you could put on fifty without anyone saying a word. To you, at least.
• Most personal trainers dislike being paid in jars of change.
• Even if somebody agrees to be your workout buddy, he or she proably isn't going to appreciate the "Workout Buddies" t-shirts you had made.
  

Finding Your Second Wind

Wikipedia defines “second wind” as “ a phenomenon in distance running, such as marathons or road running (as well as other sports), whereby an athlete who is too out of breath and tired to continue suddenly finds the strength to press on at top performance with less exertion.”

At least it did until I logged on to Wikipedia and changed the definition to “when you cut the cheese once and look around and realize nobody noticed so you cut loose with another one.”

I’m searching for my second wind right now. Not the farty one that I just made up, but the real one… that gust of renewed energy and commitment that comes when you recommit, when you double-down on making some serious scale-spinning magic happen.

I call this weight-loss journey a roller-coaster at times, but it’s important to keep in mind that the ups don’t automatically lead to big downs. And the real screams happen when the numbers are climbing.

My numbers climbed this week and I’ve got to tell you that I didn’t care for it one little bit. I remember those summer days when this losing-pounds business felt pretty carefree and easy. I remember burning with a white-hot heat that seemed to incinerate that unwanted fat. I haven’t necessarily fallen off the wagon, but I seem to be dragging my feet off the side lately.

I want to rekindle that fire.

I don’t know where you are on your own trek, whether it’s making you moan and groan or if you’re finding yourself in the zone, but I invite you to join me in kicking it up a notch.

However you’re going about this, whatever you’re doing to reach your goals, do it with a little more intensity and dialed-up passion.

This week, I’m going to get after it a little more fiercely, exercise with a trifle more determination and eat with a little less gusto.

You don’t get a second wind.

You earn it.

x

Anti-Booyah!

Weekly weigh-in: 199.0
Loss: +1.5
Total loss: 93.5 lbs.
Emotion: Non-exuberant

The Bible describes Hell as a place of darkness, sorrow and torment. “Then said the king to the servants, Bind him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Matthew 22:13).

I don’t mean to belittle the concept of eternal damnation, but 1.5 pounds? What the fat?

My cranky ho-bag of a scale did me incredibly wrong this week. I mean, I stepped on and my eyes went all Bugs Bunny ahhhooooooogggaaaaa!!! I did a double-take. I did a triple-take. Five takes later, it was still the same.

A pound and a half.

A postcard from the dark side.

A flaming bag of poo left on my front doorstep.

Sixteen teeny-tiny ounces away from the exit door from Onederland.

There I go, thinking I have The Minus Touch, where every weigh-in shows a health-affirming loss. Where every trip to the scale ends with a happy dance and a high five for the dude in the mirror.

This was the biggest gain I’ve had in 45 weeks on this weight-loss roller coaster. What’s my takeaway from this crappy week?

• Grapes aren’t calorie-free.
• Water doesn’t drink itself.
• Small decisions can have a big impact.
  
• If you generally only go out to eat once a week, and you go out twice this past week, that’s twice as much as you normally do.
• When's the last time you didn't clean your plate, bozo?
  
• When you’re cooking something, and you eat a dozen bites… ummmm, something clever here about how that’s not a good thing.
• You probably should “work” during your workout.
• My good habits aren’t necessarily as ingrained as I’d like to think they are.

Don’t waste your breath telling me that everything will be okay and that I’ll get it back this week, because I know that everything will be okay and that I’ll get it back this week. I'm double ding-dong sure of it (though I'm already seriously regretting using the phrase "double ding-dong sure of it."

But that's over and done with, just like seeing that number on the scale.

I’m going to kick it old-school over the next seven days (just as soon as I Google “kick it old-school” and see what that actually means).

I will make a plan and I’ll stick to it. I’ll hit the gym with a renewed ferocity. If it takes counting calories, then by God, I'll even count calories.

This week, I’m gonna bring it… and I expect to bring good news on my next weigh-in.

x

Burn the Ships

Welcome to "Same Old Sh*t" Saturday, where I re-post something old and explain to you that this is "Same Old Sh*t Saturday. This one from back last summer kind of coincides with a turning point in my weight-loss journey, where I really shifted it into high gear and managed to really take the who process to a whole new level.

When Spanish Conquistador Hernando “Corky” Cortez landed in Mexico in 1519, he gave a startling order: “Burn the ships.” Some historians argue that he just didn’t want to pay the docking fees at the marina, but most have come to the conclusion that he was so committed to his mission that he didn’t want to allow his men (or himself) the option of returning to Spain... the option of failure.

I’ve been taking a “burn-the-ships” approach with many aspects of my current weight loss campaign. I’m getting rid of excuses that get in my path, and I’m chasing away temptations that I know are just too difficult for me to resist.

I used to buy snacks for my daughters that, more often than not, I would wind up munching on while watching a ball game on TV.

Burn the chips.

The fridge by my desk at the office was once stacked and packed with sodas.

Burn the cokes.

I found myself eating dessert right before bedtime.

Burn the treats.

All too often, I was making poor choices at restaurants.

Burn the menus.

None of us are made of steel. We can’t resist temptation indefinitely. What we can do is take away as many of the hurdles and enticements that get in the way of our weight loss success as we possibly can.

When I decided to stop drinking coffee a couple of weeks ago, there was an almost-full container of Almond Toffee coffee creamer in the fridge. I left it in there a couple of days, but I know the way my mind works: “Well, that stuff’s just going to go to waste if I don’t drink it. Maybe a cup of coffee just the weekends… that’d be all right.”

When you start making deals with yourself over food, it’s time to burn the ships.

Glug, glug, glug… down the drain went the coffee crap.

Family won’t like it if you quit buying ice cream? I’ve got news for you: they’ll get over it. My daughters were livid when I quit bringing home their favorite chips. Tough t*tty, said Jack Sh*tty. Them boats have been torched.

And the excuses. Maybe more important than the temptations, you’ve got to take away the excuses that make taking care of yourself less of a priority than taking care of all the other areas of your existence, all the other duties and responsibilities that fill your days. This is your life, and it’s high time that you give yourself the opportunity to be the person you want to be, that you know deep down you’re on the road to becoming.

Burn the ships. Get rid of anything and everything that could possibly cause you to fail. Burn the ships. Take every excuse off the table, and leave every cop-out and justification out back with the trash. Leave yourself no choice but to succeed… and don’t be surprised when that’s just what you do.

Against all odds, Cortez’s men conquered the Aztecs and were victorious where others had been unsuccessful for six centuries.

It’s hard to open the fridge door when your back’s against the wall.

I’m Sorry, Train… Is That Right? Train? Really?

Hey, hey, hey…

I follow Katie J, she blogs over at Katie J is On Her Way.
There’s LAF at Walk in Loveliness and Enz at Downward Trenz… they blow my mind.
Their weight-loss treks, the way they’re gettin’ rid of their turkey necks, you see.
I know just what they swallow, they’re the ones I choose to follow, who’re some of my friends.

Hey scale sisters, you know Mr. Sh*tter–he keeps prayin’, for your weigh-in, the way it goes ain’t fair, you know!
Hey scale sisters, I don't want to miss a single day you weigh... okay?

Hey, hey, hey…

To my delight, I follow Jasmine over at Eat Move Write, you see.
And then there’s my pal Marcelle, her posts always are swell, I can’t deny.
I’m so obsessed–Linda, Kat and Syl are just the best.
I believe in them–like Mike Tyson, they’re fighters, and as dieters they will blow your mind.

Hey scale sisters, you know Mr. Sh*tter–he keeps prayin’, for your weigh-in, the way it goes ain’t fair, you know!
Hey scale sisters, I don't want to miss a single day you weigh...okay?

Hey, hey, hey…

Kaitlin is great for me, not to mention my pal screwdestiny.
HLG's so awesome, believe me matey, Anonymous Fat Girl and a thinner Katie.
You see, they all just like my family, I want ‘em to be the best that they can be .
They’re gonna do it, you see. I guarantee!

Hey scale sisters, you know Mr. Sh*tter–he keeps prayin’, for your weigh-in, the way it goes ain’t fair, you know!
Hey scale sisters, I don't want to miss a single day you weigh...okay?
Hey, hey, hey…

Today.

Note: I've been getting so much link love lately that I felt like I needed to pass it forward. These are just a few of the awesome weight-loss stories I follow, and I plan to share more with you in the not-too-distant future.

x

Dr. Jackyl and Mister Sh*t

Server: Welcome to Chili’s! I’m Jessica, and I’ll be your server today.

Dr. Jackyl: Thank you, my dear. We’ll need another menu please.

Server: Oh, are you expecting someone else?

Mister Sh*t: Heeeeelllo! I’m right here, cupcake!

Server: Ummmmmm…. okay. Another menu comin’ right up.

Dr. Jackyl: Why do you have to be like that?

Mister Sh*t: Calm down, pantywaist.

Dr. Jackyl: I didn’t even want to come out to eat. What’s wrong with eating at home?

Mister Sh*t: Everything’s so boring and bland at home.

Dr. Jackyl: Bland? I’m a maniac with the spice rack…

Mister Sh*t: Well, we never have appetizers at home.

Dr. Jackyl: And I seriously doubt we’ll be having an appetizer tonight.

Mister Sh*t: Waitaminute… where’s the Awesome Blossom?

Dr. Jackyl: Oh, they got rid of that way back. Where have you been?

Mister Sh*t: You’ve kept me locked up, dumbass. Why’d they go and get rid of the Awesome Blossom anyway?

Dr. Jackyl: It was just too…

Mister Sh*t: Too awesome?

Dr. Jackyl: Try awesomely laden with fat. And 2,710 calories for an appetizer.

Mister Sh*t: Aw, that’s not so bad.

Dr. Jackyl: Well, that’s the caloric equivalent of over a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts.

Mister Sh*t: Mmmmmmm…. Krispy Kreme…

Dr. Jackyl: We are not stopping for donuts on the way home!

Mister Sh*t: Well, I say we just get the Big Mouth Bites for starters...

Dr. Jackyl: Hmmm, 1,580 calories and 28 grams of saturated fat.

Mister Sh*t: See… that’s awesomer than the Awesome Blossom.

Dr. Jackyl: By comparison, for a 2,000-calorie diet, the USDA recommends that an individual eat no more than 20 grams of saturated fat per day.

Mister Sh*t: Well, saturated fat isn’t everything, you know…

Dr. Jackyl: Yeah, there’s also salt. These bad boys pack 2,930 milligrams of sodium.

Mister Sh*t: Well, if you’re so worried about your precious diet, maybe you should just order off the kids’ menu.

Dr. Jackyl: Yeah, that can’t get me in any trouble. Look at this: Chili’s Pepper Pals Country-Fried Chicken Crispers with Ranch Dressing and Homestyle Fries.

Mister Sh*t: That’s what I’m talking about!

Dr. Jackyl: Only 1,110 calories, 1,980 mg sodium and a whopping 82 grams of fat.

Mister Sh*t: Everything a growing boy needs.

Dr. Jackyl: Growing is right. You realize that kids only need about 1,600 calories a day, don’t you?.

Mister Sh*t: You are a crappy dinner companion, Doc.

Server: Have you… uh… two… made up your mind?

Dr. Jackyl: We’ll have the Guiltless Grill Salmon with black beans and seasonal vegetables topped with Parmesan cheese.

Mister Sh*t: I swear! We should have just stayed at home.

Something A Little Different

I Am Your Bodyguard

Imagine…

You’re jerking open a bag of Lay’s, experiencing that singular anticipation of something salty and satisfying sliding down your gullet...

Suddenly, I appear out of nowhere and smack the bag out of your hand. Before you can do much more than release an astonished gasp, my size 13 Converse is stomping the everloving sh*t out of those chips while I laugh a decidedly evil laugh.

BWAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

No, I can’t really slap that bag of chips outta your hands, even though just thinking about doing such an audacious thing puts a silly smile on my kisser.

Yes, I’m a big enough man (figuratively) to admit it: I get a sick thrill to think about following you around and forcing you to act right.

Make you think about eating right because you’re worried about my snide comment or fierce glare.

Make you think about stuffing your face because you’re worried about me getting up in your grill.

Make you keep a watchful eye on the rear-view mirror while you’re in the drive-thru lane, worried that some overprotective psycho is going to ram your vehicle from behind.

See… that made me smile again.

I’d love to be your personal Diet Nazi, your weight-loss enforcer.

A bodyguard in the truest sense of the word.

I need one, too. Someone to ride shotgun and talk me down from the ledge when I think about straying off plan. Someone to provide a little tough love when… well, when the going gets tough. Someone who loves me enough to rough me up when I need roughing up.

Unfortunately, I can’t slap you around or impose my will on you by intimidation or force. I can’t do that for you, and you can’t do that for me.

But we can watch each other’s backs as we blog our journey to a fitter life. We can help keep each other honest, help keep each other on the straight and narrow. I got your back... you got mine.

Isn’t that what a bodyguard’s for, after all?

To keep us safe.

You Might Be A Fat-Neck...

Lord knows I try…

I mean, even on my silliest posts, I try to wedge in some nugget, some kernel, some speck of wisdom or advice or inspiration.

And then, every once in a while, I’ll hit on one of those ideas with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Something like “You might be a fat-neck…”

• If you eat dinner at a fast-food joint and then swing by the drive thru on your way out of the parking lot, you might be a fat-neck.
• If really fat people tell fat jokes about you, you might be a fat-neck.
• If your clothes have stretch marks, you might be a fat-neck.

A part of me says I should just shelf these lamebrain concepts, but they simply haunt me until I write them out of my system. Even when I shove ‘em aside and try to tackle a different subject, my brain keeps working them like some demented Rubick’s Cube.

• If you dance at a concert and the band skips, you might be a fat-neck.
• If your double chin has a double chin, you might be a fat-neck.
• If your favorite thing to eat on cookies is frozen cookie dough, you might be a fat-neck.

Sometimes, this blog seems to take on a life of its own. It goes where it wants to go and I’m just pulled along in the undertow. And it’s odd how often people will comment that they really needed that laugh today, or really needed that call to arms today, or really needed that swift kick in the booty today.

• If you direct-deposit your paycheck to the break room vending machine, you might be a fat-neck.
• If they recognize your voice when you call to order a pizza, you might be a fat-neck.
• If you put gravy on your Raisin Bran, you might be a fat-neck.

Here’s my justification for the silly posts: we’re in this for the long haul, you and me. We’re going to be here for quite some time… or at least that’s the plan. I don’t want to bark at you or lecture you or even inspire you seven days a week, but I wouldn’t mind you thinking about this journey we’re on every day. Some days, I think it’s okay that we just chuckle at ourselves, laugh at this f*cked-up situation that we’ve somehow put ourselves in.

• If you’re a member of the Ham-of-the-Month Club, you might be a fat-neck.
• If you have to iron your pants on the driveway, you might be a fat-neck.
• If you read Jack Sh*t, Gettin’ Fit, you might be a fat-neck.

To me, this isn’t one of those “you gotta laugh to keep from crying” situations either. It just feels good to laugh sometimes, and when you’re on a long trip like we are, when you’re pushing yourself to do something that feels even bigger than you are, it’s nice to enjoy a light-hearted moment every so often.

We’re not always going to be fat-necks after all.

And that’s definitely something to smile about.