Sh*tlock Holmes and the Case of the Lost Pounds

“Fatson, come here.”

“What is it, Holmes?” answered the chubby assistant, sporting a tweed suit and meaty porkchop sideburns.

“I believe it’s a clue,” rejoined Sh*tlock Holmes, who was dressed in a Sherlock Holmes outfit, complete with magnifying glass.

“It appears to be a rice cake with peanut butter smeared on it,” observed Fatson.

“Almond butter,” corrected Sh*tlock.

“How can you know that?” asked Fatson, perplexed.

“Smellamentary, my dear Fatson. And did you take a look in the pantry?”

“It seems perfectly ordinary to me…” bemused Fatson

“Take a closer look,” said Sh*tlock.

“Good heavens…”

“That’s right,” continued the detective. “No corn chips, toritilla chips, potato chips, pretzel chips, pita chips, Sun chips, cheese nibs, Cheez-Its, Cheese Whiz, Chex mix, cheese-and-crackers, crackers-and-cheese, peanut butter-and-crackers, peanut butter cookies, pretzels, Pringles, Pop-Tarts, pork rinds, Fritos, Cheetos, Doritos…

“Unbelievable! Perhaps they refrigerate their snacks,” suggested Fatson. “For freshness.”

Sh*tlock swung open the refrigerator door, and his assistant peered over his shoulder.

“I don’t understand it,” blubbered Fatson. “There’s nothing in here but fresh fruits and vegetables. No one eats like this. It’s impossible.”

Sh*tlock shook his head as he held a red plum to his face to examine it more closely. “How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?”

Sh*tlock sniffed at the air, then moved toward the laundry room.

“Fatson,” said Sh*tlock. “Take a big whiff in that laundry hamper.”

Fatson obliged, but reeled backwards after sticking his face down to smell.

“Good God, Sh*tlock,” exclaimed Fatson. “That’s utterly horrible.

“Just as I suspected,” hmmmmmm’ed Sh*tlock. “Exercise.”

Fatson shook his head, “Have you figured the mystery out yet, Sh*tlock?”

“I believe I have, Fatson,” he said, pacing back and forth in the hallway. “The lack of junk food, the abundance of healthy nutritional items and the sweat-soaked workout clothes indicate a successful weight loss journey is underway.”

“That’s it, Sh*tlock,” exclaimed Fatson. “But you haven’t solved the mystery of where the missing pounds went. Do you have the answer to that, Holmes?”

“I believe I have, my good man,” said Sh*tlock. “Look over your shoulder.”

“What?” asked Fatson.

“Lower,” suggested Sh*tlock.

“There?” croaked Fatson.

“Yes, my good fellow,” said Sh*tlock. “Right there on your ass.”

“Ahh, yes,” frowned Fatson, sucking his gut in a bit. “Mystery solved.”

Goodbye Normal Jeans

Goodbye Normal Jeans,
Though I hardly knew you at all,
You had the grace to hold your fit
Even when you got too small.
You crawled back in the closet,
And hid up on the top shelf.
You knew it was time to go,
Though I didn't know it myself.

And it seems to me I've lived my life
In some pants that were extra wide.
Never knowing not to eat more
When the food gets fried.
And I would have like to have worn you,
But I was just too fat.
Your seams would just have ripped out
Every time I sat.

Obesity is tough,
The toughest thing you'll ever know.
My weight created an obstacle,
Every day a brand new low.
Then you called to me.
You said, "I'm waiting here for you."
And I somehow found the strength
To begin my life anew.

And it seems to me I've changed my life,
I don't have to be so wide.
Never knowing how to connect to
The healthy person inside.
And I'm proud to get to wear you
Like I used to do.
There's still a lot of wear left.
We're both practically brand new.

Hello Normal Jeans
Though it's been so very long.
You had the grace to keep yourself
Now you're back where you belong.
Hello Normal Jeans
From the man at that 225 weight.
It's nice to be wearing you again
Looking fine and feeling great.

And it seems to me that gettting fit is
Like a candle in the wind.
You can lose it in a heartbeat,
Everything can end.
But I won't let that happen this time.
I won't take that spill.
That candle will burn out long before
My persistence ever will.

Deposits & W.I.D.T.H.drawals

 

W.I.D.T.H. FAQ

What does W.I.D.T.H. stand for?

Are you stupid? Is this your first time visiting this blog? Do you live under a rock?

Do you know how a FAQ works?

I can't even spell "FAQ"...

*sigh* Do you post new W.I.D.T.H. pics every week?

If I get new ones, I post new ones. If I don't get new ones, I post old ones. This week, I received a brand new batch of them, but I never know what madness awaits in my email inbox.

Is it true that in order to get the W.I.D.T.H., you dressed up like a bunch of different...

Next question!

How do I submit my own W.I.D.T.H.?

Just jot down why you're on this weight loss/healthy living roach, snap a picture of it and email me at jacksh.tgettinfit@gmail.com (and be sure to add your blog link if you want that included). 

When's the deadline?

The 5th of Nevertember.

Could you possibly be more annoying?

FAQ you!

 Pam @ Plump Nonfiction

 Katie @ Finding the Thin Within

 Niffer

 

 Annalisa @ Diary of a Yo-Yo Dieter

 

 Hyla @ Bloggest Loser

Sierra @ C'mon, Fatso

How Do You Eat a Whale?

I started working on this post about taking a one-bite-at-a-time attitude to your weight loss efforts, but then I realized that the title of the post was a bit misleading. I remembered that many of my Eskimo readers (Hi, Nyako, Tapenga and Dadgayadoh) would take the title literally and would be expecting whale-preparation tips. Once I get going with one of these blog entries, I really hate to change directions, so I suppose this post should actually be titled “How Do You Eat A Whale, Both Literally and Figuratively?”

Well, obviously… first you need to catch a whale. Lucky for you, I have some experience with this. I went on a whale-watching boat trip a couple of summers ago down in Sayulita, Mexico. Our boat came in nice and tight on several of the buggers, and I can tell you this from first-hand experience: they’re big. I’m just not sure that your average rod-and-reel is going to be able to handle one of these mothers. I’m certainly no fishing expert, but I’d go with a Shimano Spheros 18000FB with the Paladin gear-enhancement, higher line capacity and cold-forged spools with improved drag-systems. And don’t forget the worms!

Let’s just assume, for a minute, that you can’t catch a whale. Don’t feel too bad; I couldn’t either (I didn’t have my fishing gear with me; what’s your excuse?). There’s a simple solution, my friend. Just go over to Japan where they sell fresh whale, frozen whale, canned whale, cubed whale, dried whale, pickled whale and whale-on-a-stick. Can’t get to Japan? Geez, don’t you know how to use MapQuest yet, stupid?

So now you’ve got yourself a nice hunk of juicy whale meat. Now what?

I found this recipe for Whale Stew on the internet. Have you ever started making something and you didn’t check the ingredient list to make sure your cupboard was stocked with everything you need to make the dish? That’s exactly what happened to me on this one. Don’t be a dumbass like me: check and make sure that you have all the ingredients you need before you start cooking.

Whale Stew

Ingredients:

1 (105 ton) Whale
1,896 lbs Onions
7,326 lbs Potatoes
1,908 gallons Tomato Sauce
2,276 lbs Carrots
927 lbs Celery
104 lbs Salt
76 lbs Black Pepper
52 gallons Tabasco Sauce

Directions: Place whale in pot with tomato sauce. Cook at 300 degrees for 4 hours. Add onions, potatoes, carrots, celery, salt, pepper and Tabasco sauce. Simmer 36 hours. Serves 347,161 people.

Truthfully, this recipe is just “okay.” If I make it again, I’m gonna add a pinch of oregano.

Let’s say that you’re just trying to learn more about figuratively eating a whale, you know, like losing a whole lot of weight. Well, in that case you should just take it “one bite at a time.” Sorry, I was going to write a lot more about the subject, but I used up too much space for the Eskimos (Message to Nyako, Tapenga and Dadgayadoh: “Inuktitut (goodbye) and have an ‘ice’ weekend!”.

Next time, I’ll try to put the weight loss stuff first.

A Threat to My Future Self

Hello Future Self,

This may sound like a hollow threat, since I’m technically you at an earlier point in your life, but listen to me and listen good: if you f*ck up this nice loss I’ve managed to provide for you, I will hunt you down and I will kill you.

Just how will I accomplish such a seemingly impossible task, you ask. Look here, you older, more jaded version of myself with your fancy cell phone the size of my thumbnail. I have faced insurmountable odds before and managed to get the job done. Remember way back, when you used to swill coffee all morning and diet sodas all afternoon? I was the one that shut that sh*t down. I was the one who brought all this eating-too-much and exercising-too-little business to a crashing halt. I did it.

Not you. Me.

I don’t really know what Future Me is up to these days, but Right Now Me has lost 75 lbs. and has made some pretty tremendous changes in his life. If I were you (and let’s not get into that old argument about whether or not I “am” you… let’s just agree to disagree, shall we?), I wouldn’t bet against me accomplishing anything I set my mind to.

Which gets me back to my threat. I know you, Future Me. You have a bad history of taking the hard work of those who have come before you and squandering it for no apparent rhyme or reason. I can name at least three occasions where a Past Me has lost a tremendous amount of weight only to have one of your brothers (the Future Me’s) thoughtlessly gain it right back.

Not this time. I repeat: NOT. THIS. TIME.

Here’s the thing, Future Me. Every time you do that… every time you gain the weight back, you make it that much harder for the Next Me to do anything about it. You make it hard to care about the Future Me’s, since they have so little regard for the Future “Future Me’s.”

I have done the heavy lifting, my future-dwelling friend. I have packed up and left Obese City, and I’m passing on to you all the tools you’ll ever need to continue on with the good work I’ve started. I want you to read this letter regularly, because it’s vitally important that you’re aware of what’s at stake… and just what the consequences are.

Your life is on the line, brother. Gain the pounds back and it won’t be your body that kills you.

It’ll be me.


Speaking of time-travel: it’s time for me to travel. My wife Anita and I are hopping on a jet today and sneaking off to Cancun for a few days of fun in the sun. I was going to be productive and write a bunch of posts and pre-load them, but was too busy being unproductive and not writing a bunch of posts and pre-loading them. Anyway, I grabbed some crap from the every-expanding archive and threw it up there to tide us over next week. Adios, suckers!

Even More Famous Movie Lines, Jack Sh*t-Style

• “Lawzy, we gots to have a dietitian. I don't know nothin’ ‘bout countin’ no calories!”

• “Look, Daddy. Teacher says every time a bell rings, an angel loses a pound.”

• “I'll be back… after my workout!”


• “My momma always said, bloggers was like a box of chocolates–all different kinds and most full of nuts.”


• “Well, I believe in the diet, the blog, the push-up, that muscle at the small of a woman's back, high fiber, plenty of water, that these lists by Jack Sh*t are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Jack LeLanne was a fitness pioneer. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing High Fructose Corn Syrup and the McDonald’s Happy Meal. I believe in the sweat spot, low-fat salad dressing, doing your weigh-in once a week rather than every day and I believe in long, slow, deep, hard, workouts that last three hours.”


• “You're gonna need a smaller butt.”

• “I'll make him an sandwich he can't refuse.”

• “Soylent Green is people… but it’s low-fat and gluten-free.”

• “The first rule of Bite Club is - you do not blog about Bite Club. The second rule of Bite Club is - you DO NOT eat Chinese food the day before a weigh-in.”

 •  “When I'm good, I'm very, very good, but when I'm bad, my weigh-in sucks.”


• “Yo, Adrian. Let’s just grab a salad tonight.”


• “You're a lean, mean, dieting machine!”


• “I wish I knew how to quit juice.”


• “I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to eat this anymore.”


• “They call me Mister Tibbs and I no longer drink Mister Pibbs.” (Wait… do they still make Mister Pibbs? What about Tab?)


• “Houston, we have weight problem.”


• “Shaken, not stirred… on second thought,  I’ll have a Mango Bobango Smoothie with a vitamin boost.”


• “On my signal, unleash hell… on the treadmill!”

• “I see fat people.”


• “I am going to chop this piece of tilapia up into 42 pieces.”


• “Gluttony, definitely my favorite sin.”


• “Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful weight-loss journey.”


Bodfather: Tales from the Bod Squad

This is how it began:  due to the fact that there wasn’t a whole lot of weight losing going on for a site that calls itself a weight-loss blog, I decided to chronicle some other folk’s stories as they did their best to change their ways and their bodies.

I dubbed myself “The Bodfather,” and sent out a call for people willing to do what I told ‘em and share their stories with my blog. Overwhelmed with hundreds of responses, I wound up taking on five individuals. Some had some to lose and some had a lot to lose (and some had a lot more than that. The common denominator:  they all were really gung-ho to make a big change in their lives and they all came in with great attitudes and great motives.

There was Kerensa, a bride-to-be who wanted to walk the aisle in a good-bit-smaller gown. There was Tom, who wanted to be a good example to his young daughter. There was Laurie, a workaholic legal eagle who has had trouble making good health a high priority. There’s Jodi, a young woman with big dreams and too-big everything else. And there’s Billie, a fun, fit mom trapped in a 400+ lb. frame.

This wasn’t a contest, wasn’t a competition. What I was hoping for... what I expected… was that the spotlight of a lot of people watching what they were doing and showing their support would push them forward into uncharted waters. I know for a fact what six months can do… it can change everything!

And for the first couple of months, that seemed to be the case. I heard from each of them fairly regularly, and they all seemed excited about the results they were seeing and the way they were feeling.

But then the holidays hit, as they almost always seem to do in late November. I expected a little stall-out, but I didn’t foresee the going to be as tough for the “Bodfather” participants as it’s been lately. That was probably my bad.

I think it’s rare in our lives that we’re really ready to embrace a big life change. I mean, really and truly ready to take on a life-altering challenge. And that’s what this, after all. A life-altering challenge.

“Life-altering” because you can’t keep doing the same things that got you in the shape that you are. “Challenge” because… well, this sh*t’s hard. Exercising takes effort, time and determination and eating less takes sacrifice and a commitment to not taking the easy way out.

And there’s so much of the world that’s set up to keep us from succeeding. There are traps and temptations around every corner, and some days it just doesn’t seem worth the effort. Besides, instant gratification is so instant and so, so gratifying.

Some of my Bod Squad are faltering and some are flying high and some are somewhere in that mushy, mushy middle where so many of us spend so much time.

If there’s a good story to tell with one (or all) of them, I’ll tell it here.

If not… well, we’ve all been there before, huh?

A Little Random Advice

• If your doctor tells you that you have to give up either chocolate or cheese, don’t worry… I think they make chocolate-covered cheese.

• Building a little maze inside your refrigerator will make you work harder to find delicious snacks and help you eat less of them.

• Run a mile. If you can’t run a mile, walk a mile. If you can’t walk a mile, nap a mile.

• It turns out that “Your hair is really thinning” isn’t really a weight-loss compliment.

• Lying burns more calories than telling the truth.

• One way to eat less sodium is to go to every grocery store in town, empty every container of salt and replace with a salt substitute.

• If you can’t afford a personal trainer, just dress in all black and pretend to be the shadow of the person who’s actually having the personal training session.

• One way to drink more water during the day is to nearly drown.

• You don’t have time not to exercise.

• Soup can have a sneaky amount of fat and calories, especially Cheesy Cream of Cream Cheese Soup.

• If you’re reading this blog right now, there’s probably something more productive you could be doing.

The Fatass Family

They're creepy and they're obese, 
 
Their waistlines on the increase,
They eat too much cooked in grease
.
The Fatass Family. 



Their pantry’s full of junk food.
They’re often fat and drunk, too. 

If you don’t like it, funk you. 
 

The Fatass Family. 



Da da da dunnnnnt
(Classy)
Da da da dunnnnnt

(Sassy)
Da da da dunnnnnt
Da da da dunnnnnt
Da da da dunnn

(Assy) 



So grab a cup of green tea
(it doesn’t have caffeine, see)
I really hope they’ll feed me.

The Faaatassssss Family.




“Next!” I shouted.

“Who are you talking to?” asked my daughter Pisa.

“To all the bloggers who are auditioning for my 'Fatass Family' post,” I told her. “And where’s your goth dress, by the way?”

“I told you I’m not playing the little girl?” she exclaimed.

“Weighinsday Fatass.”

“Huh?” frowned Pisa.

“You know, like Wednesday Addams…”

“Oh yeah,” she half-smiled. “Hee-larious, Dad.”

“I don’t get it,” I remarked. “I thought there’d be loads of people trying out for these parts, especially after my Sh*tagain’s Island posts.”

“Ummmm, how would anybody know you were holding auditions?”

“I announced it in my blog,” I told her.

“When?”

“Ummmmm… today,” I stammered.

Pisa rolled her eyes.

“That’s right,” I said. “I’m going to go through today’s comments and choose bloggers to star in my upcoming Fatass Family post.”

“Well, that could work,” shrugged Pisa.

“Damn straight!” I smiled. “NEXT!”

Ummmm… I’m talking to YOU. 

What part do you want and why should I choose you? Tell me... with feeling!
Action!

No Gain, No Pain

Weekly weigh-in: 217.5
Loss: - 0
Total loss: -74.4
Emotion: Blah

Sometimes a gain on the scale gets stuck in my craw and spurs me on to do a little better with my food choices and maybe even exercise a little harder for the next few days.

Sometimes a loss on the scale throws my mojo into overdrive, supercharging my energy and making it a breeze to keep keeping on with my healthy living ways.

Sometimes a gain on the scale just ticks me off–I mean, really frosts my shorts. It makes me question why all of this stuff doesn’t come more naturally to me and why is it exactly that I’m working so damn hard.

Sometimes a loss on the scale just makes me think that I’m on the going-down section of the roller-coaster, and that I’ll be climbing back up before you know it.

And sometimes… sometimes I (and by “I”, I mean every single one of us) give too much weight to these weary weigh-ins. I mean, I have to do them because I know what will happen if I don’t check in regularly… but… (you knew I’d have a big “but” in there didn’t you? Hey! Don’t say I have a big butt!).

But… video evidence to the contrary, I’m getting better and better at understanding my own body and why it is the way it is. I know I that weigh 3-4 lbs. more when I wake up than when I go to bed, and I know a salty meal will stay with me seemingly forever.

I beat myself up over this stuff just like you beat yourself up, but I’m pretty proud of the progress I’ve made, and I have no intention of giving in anytime soon.

I know that there are some strange forces at work inside my mind and body. Some weeks they work in tandem to achieve the desired results and some weeks they’re locked in evenly-matched game of tug of war (and occasionally… only occasionally… they team up and kick my ass).

I stand on a scale once a week, but all it gives me is a number.

It doesn’t tell me who I am or where I’m headed.

That’s for me to decide.

Send Your W.I.D.T.H. Off Before I Get Pidth Off!

Truth to tell, I never envisioned the kind of response I've gotten when I asked for folks to send me their reasons (via note card or reasonable facsimile) for losing weight and/or getting more healthy. They came pouring in, and there's been a steady stream of them ever since. I don't know about you, but I find them wonderfully inspirational, so much raw emotion boiled down to a tiny little card. Thanks for everyone who has contributed so far and everyone who's going to send me one in the very near future *hint hint*. Email your note (along with a blog link if you want it included) to jacksh.tgettinfit@gmail.com.

 

 

Lucky Girl @ Confessions of a Fatty with No Self-Control

Tammy @ Tammy's Tale

Reese @ Watch Reese Lose

Tony @ The Anti-Jared

Runnergirl @ Runnergirl

SheRon @ Shoes To Lose

Laurie @ Adventures of Gastric Girl

Kelly @ Kelly Is Losing Weight

JourneyBeyondSurvival @ Journey Beyond Survival

Joe @ Joe The Runner

Flabby McGee @ Flabby McGee

Amanda @ Fat Wuz Here

Elastigirl @ Mrs. Busy Girl

Cooking with Jack: Thank God It's Fry-Day

Welcome to Cooking with Jack, the cooking show where the secret ingredient is... love. And crushed red pepper. Today's webisode is going to show you, step by step, how to make the best fried chicken you ever tasted.

First, you're gonna want to get yourself some good fresh chicken.

How can you tell if your chicken is fresh? Well, is it clucking? Is it struggling in your arms? Does it small "chickeny"?

 Now the old-timers will tell you to just grab the beast by the neck and give it a good twist, but that's just too barbaric for my sensibilities...

 

No, this is an animal with a feelings and a name (Dulce) and everything. My daughter Pisa wouldn't let me name any of the chickens and I'm great at naming animals. Who named the rabbit "Elvis Parsley"? Huh, Pisa? And who came up with that classic chicken moniker "Johann Sebastian Bawwk"?

Antyway, what you really need is a good reason to go into chicken-slaughtering mode...

Oh, so you're trying to steal my wallet? Are you kidding me, Dulce? I trusted you. I trusted you!

 What were you gonna buy anyway? A cool wallet like mine?

You've stolen from me for the last time, you stupid clucker.

 

Naw... we can't start killing every time somebody steals something, especially with my track record.

  
YOUR BUCK-BUCK-BLOG IS STUPID!

Say that again, you petty, paltry poultry.

 

YOU HEARD ME. IT'S JUST GOOFY AND BOOOOORING!

That's it! I'm going all Colonel Sanders on your feathery ass!

Hold on, Stabby McGee. Look at what I left on the counter over there for you.

What? All I see is a hilarious refrigerator magnet...

Lower, dumbass.

What? I don't... huh?

 

Free eggs? How awesome is that?

Two eggs, scrambled with a wedge of Laughing Cow cheese = Delish.
And no bloody mess to clean up!