There's a stranger in my house. He hides in my bathroom. I always seem to catch his eye as I'm heading into the shower...pervert. And then it slowly dawns on me who I'm seeing.
Michael Jackson had it right many years ago:
I'm starting with the man in the mirror
I'm asking him to change his ways
If you wanna make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and then make a change, yey
Na na na, na na na, na na na na oh ho (Let's say you're a lyric transcriber, and you are asked to write out all the na's and oh's...what a stupid job)
Standing before me in the mirror stands a pale man with too much chest hair, and a poochy belly. How did I not see this before?? Did my shirts cover all 4 of my chins? I haven't bought new pants with a bigger waist recently. Perhaps it's because I pull them up to my nipples to fit.
It's a sobering thing to realize that when lions rule the world, you will be one of the first eaten, as you look more delicious than the others.
In an attempt to damn my ever-increasing waist-line, I've started up a diet of sorts.
I generally know what I do wrong:
Mcgriddle in the morning.
Nachos supreme at lunch.
Bacon cheeseburger for dinner.
And if I can get extra cheese on all of this, I'd appreciate it.
Couple this with the fact that my lard butt sits around all day in front of a computer, and I now have thighs that look like sacks of chewed up bubble gum.
So---first I decided to stop eating these things. Done.
But I wanted to take it a little further, so I contacted a good friend who has years of experience gaining and losing weight. He gave me some diet pointers and tips, which I secretly think he has done to foil any enjoyment in my life. He once said that 80% of our enjoyment in this life comes from eating. I think he severely understated the percentage.
I eat a protein bar every day for breakfast. I'm not talking yummy, candy protein bars...but nasty gooey things with 35-40 grams of protein. They try to brand the bars with flavors of "chocolate chunk" and "cookie dough," but these are lies. I think they have a list of flavors, and randomly assign them to different bars. Perhaps they think the brain can convince some people that what they are eating tastes of "cookies and cream," but to me it's more like hummus with a spoonful of shortening.
I eat a piece of chicken every day for lunch. Sometimes on a plain bun. Sometimes on a bed of rice. Sometime by itself. Sometimes with black beans. This is how vegetarians are born.
As a mid-afternoon snack, I've tried:
String cheese wrapped in roast beef.
Slurping down cottage cheese.
Slices of turkey with a few baked lays in between.
I think tuna pouches are in my future.
Sometimes I'd rather eat my own fingernails.
Dinners are my only respite in the day. My wife is a great cook, and my taste buds are resurrected each night.
Oh yes...and I have some protein shakes coming in the mail. 42 grams of protein per shake. I'm sure they won't taste like sand soup.
I've also began to run. I lumber 3 miles, and my body punishes me the entire way. My body is like a 1937 Plymouth with a manual crank. It takes it a while to get it going.
As I begin my run, the creaks and phantom muscle pains I feel almost convince me to turn back. By some miracle, the juices begin to flow, and my body resigns itself to its fate.
It attempts to fight back, hitting me with rounds of cramps, side-aches, and dizziness. I ignore these signs from my body, and trudge on.
By the end of the 3 miles, I hit it hard, and sprint to the end, as my body jiggles itself to a stop. Feeling like I just broke records, I look down at my watch and see 28 minutes.
28 freaking minutes to run 3 miles. I'm the slowest person on the planet.
On non-running days, I hit the weights hard. Did I mention that the heaviest dumbbell I own is 25 lbs? So perhaps when I say hitting it hard, I stretch the truth a little. I'm thinking about duct taping the 2 25's together. Would this qualify me as a redneck?
How long will this continue?
Until the word "ham-hocks" is no longer used when my shirt is removed.
Until I'm no longer winded from picking up children's toys.
When my body profile doesn't look like a series of roller coaster hills.
Until I don't have to constantly suck my gut in. (my stomach muscles should be nicely toned as I do this 24 hours a day)
When my gut doesn't appear to be ripples of fatty skin, like an impending hurricane headed towards my chest.
And when I reach this point, I'm going to go eat a Mcgriddle...and start the entire process again.