The horror... the horror.

Well gang, we're in the home stretch of the Greatest Challenge Ever.. my quest to lose at least some weight between Thanksgiving and January 2nd. Things were slow during the first few weeks, but on the day we left for NH I had gone from 200 pounds even to 196.5. That gave me a 3.5 pound cushion to play with during our 10 day stay here in the Great White North. No problem right? How could you possibly gain more then 4 pounds in 10 days.. right? RIGHT??

That's when it all started. Oh it began innocently enough. A Christmas Eve dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Not even a buffett, just a plain old restaurant. Several bowls of awesomeness later I knew I was in for a rough patch. That's when Christmas Day showed up and punched me in my special private place.

Before the orgy of present opening begin there were cinnamon rolls. Big, fluffy, delicious cinnamon rolls. But being the expert that I was, I stuck to just one of them because I knew what was coming. The next course was a good attempt at a healthy egg scramble. The scramble itself wasn't too bad, but it brought friends. Friends made out of cheese, and other freshly-baked friends with a soft crust. Individually those little bastards are easy enough to ignore, but when they all gang up on you like that... damn.

So it's safe to say that my caloric intake was nearing its limit for the day heading into dinner. Unfortunately what happened at dinner involved pasta and meatballs. I tried in vain to chase it all with a salad, but it was too late. Tastebuds 1... Diet 0.

So that's it right? The end of the craziness... back to the diet on the 26th. A noble thought my dear friends but it was not to be. The 26th, which will be forever be known in diet annals as The Day The Diet Died, turned into a 24 hour celebration of food insanity.
The first course... appitizers, meats, cheeses, shrimp, etc. Nothing too terrible, but when you eat a metric ton of anything, it's never a good start. The 2nd course was the world famous Rode Ravioli. An ancient recipe that's been destroying diets since the days of Kings of Queens. I tried to limit the damage wherever I could, but by this point I had pretty much thrown in the towel
When the ravioli was done, the beef wellington made an appearance. Amazingly there was room for 2 good sized pieces. Finally the savory foods were done and it was time to bring forth the desserts. Have you ever eaten maple syrup pie topped with bacon? I have and it's friggin awesome. Cheesecake topped with blueberries? Yes please. Pastries from an Italian New York bakery? Several. Random other cookies? Why the hell not! When it was all over, the caloric intake could only be calculated using NASA computers. I didn't even attempt to figure it out. It was bad and that was all I needed to know. Today I sit here realizing that the Greatest Challenge Ever is in serious jeopardy. I am both ashamed and filled with the greatest food ever so that's kind of a wash. The good news is, there are precious few leftovers and we still have 7 days left in the Challenge. Is it too late? Can the FatMan still turn this train around? We shall see. For now I'm going to put on 8 layers of clothes and run around in the now until my butt goes numb. It's not much, but it's a start.

Baby Steps

Well gang, we are two weeks past Thanksgiving! Two weeks into the Holiday Season, which means we're two weeks into the Greatest Challenge Ever. How are all of you doing? Anyone out there lost any weight? Stayed even at least? Not to brag or anything, but as of this morning I'm down 2 pounds since Turkey Day. A little off my normal pace, but at this time of year I think we all feel a bit like Bob here:

Yes Bob, baby steps indeed. Followed by lots of screaming and cursing. I forgot how hard it was to stay on any kind of diet in December. And temptation comes from the weirdest places. Take for instance my school's annual Fall Festival. My wife brings the kids so they can play a few games, win some cheap prizes and raise a few bucks for my school. My kids? They play the Cake Walk. (imagine musical chairs but when the music stops, they call a number. If you're standing on the number you win a baked good) My daughter? Wins a dozen cupcakes on her first attempt. Friggin' fabulous.

The good news? WalMart brand cupcakes with frosting are only 200 calories. They are also amazingly delicious if it's been a few months since you've eaten anything remotely bad for you. Not terrible, but not exactly conducive to weight loss.

This weekend we're attending the first of several Christmas parties. The food at these things is bad enough (from a caloric standpoint) but the real joy of these parties is the copious amounts of fermented beverages that one can procure. As it turns out... those little bastards are worse for you then cupcakes and fruitcake. So I get to go to parties but in addition to not being able to eat what I want... I'll have to do it sober.

Well fa la la la la, la kiss my ass.

Remember folks... baby steps.

One Week Down

OK, so I know you're all dying to know how I manged during the Thanksgiving weekend and the results are... well... um... damn it.

I woke up on Thursday morning and gave myself my official starting off point for this Greatest Challenge Ever:
Thursday morning weight- 200 pounds even. Perfect. Nice round number.

The actual gorge-fest known as Thanksgiving Day was not that bad. I sure as hell didn't count calories because I don't know anyone who has that much free time. On MyFitnessPal have to input most homemade things ingredient by ingredient. I don't know if you've ever broken down your basic casserole dish before but it's a long, long list of things that I really don't want to know about. I just want to taste the rainbow of deliciousness and move the *bleep* on. And I did. I made a big ol' plate full of everything I could get my hands on and it was freaking awesome and it felt great. Sure I probably crossed the 1500-calorie barrier, but that's OK because from Thursday night into the wee hours of Friday morning yours truly was shopping up a storm.

Oh and how we shopped! The wife and I did it all, Toys R Us, WalMart, and of course the mall. I can't imagine we burned a lot of calories walking around, but the energy it took just to keep my ass up and awake for nearly 24 consecutive hours must have counted for something right?

Friday morning weight- 201.4 pounds. Not bad. I can totally manage this.

After a rousing 3 hour nap/sleep on Friday we got up and believe it or not went back shopping again. Then we went home and started hanging Christmas decorations. Again... not exactly running a marathon but dragging my butt around on practically no sleep has to be burning calories somehow.

Saturday morning weight- 198.6. Woot! I win! I am going to kick this challenge in the nuts!

The next couple days were relaxing. Putting up the rest of the decorations, doing laundry, watching football and eating a normal amount of food.

Monday morning weight- 201.4. Huh?

No big deal, because now I'm back at school and running around chasing 5th Graders. And as all teachers know, it's way easier to stay on a diet at school because you're so busy. I'll dip back under 200 pounds in a couple days

Thursday morning weight- 201.4. Well shit.

So to recap... I made it through Thanksgiving just fine... but the week after Thanksgiving has been my downfall despite the fact that I haven't gone off the diet.

Welcome to the holidays... this is going to be harder then I thought.

The Greatest Challenge Ever!

OK blog fans... it's Game On! We are 1 day away from the World Series of Eating known as Thanksgiving Day. Turkeys are defrosting, desserts are being baked, and those of us on diets are crapping our pants.
I've been sweating this day for a while now, but then I realized that I was awesome and I stopped worrying. True story. No really. Need proof? Gaze at my hairy legs (and feet) and the scale beneath them!

That's right people, I officially cracked the 200 pound barrier last week and have officially reached my goal weight well ahead of schedule. Back in February I was north of 250 and wanted to reach 200 by Christmas. Well I kicked those first 50+ pounds square in the nuts and now it's time for Phase II. I have decided to launch myself head-first into the most ridiculous, crazy, insane challenge ever concocted by a fat man.

I am challenging myself to lose weight over the holidays. Boom!

The rules are simple, I will weigh myself on Thanksgiving morning and again when I return home from Christmas break in New Hampshire (January 2nd). The goal is to show an overall weight loss during the "Holiday Season", generally regarded as the hardest thing to do in the universe. Can it be done? Is the artist-formally-known-as-a-FatMan up to the challenge? To be honest I don't know, but if I pull this off a celebration will definitely ensue.

So how about you? Do you think you're up to the challenge? Drop me a line on Facebook or here on this blog if you want to join up. Let's all take this Holiday Season head-on, kick it in the teeth and start the New Year a little smaller than we currently are.

Ho Ho Holy Crap This Is Hard

Ah it's that most wonderful time of the year. My favorite time of the year without question. Soon, turkeys will be cooking, families will be gathering, and shoppers will be beating the crap out of each other over $3 bath towels (the wife and I actually saw that happen last year). Once that all happens, it will officially be The Holiday Season, that magical, special time when I can listen to Christmas music, decorate the house to a bizarre degree, and indulge in all of those delicious treats that come around this time of year.

Oh wait... I can't do that last one... scratch it off the list. And shoot me in the face while you're at it.

The lead up to Thanksgiving this year has been a mix of high expectations and crushing realizations. For instance, I can't wait to watch the Macy's parade. It is an absolute staple for me every year and I never miss it. However, a little piece of me died when I realized I wouldn't be eating my just-as-traditional pumpkin nut bread and cranberry nut bread while the parade was going on. With a thick spread of cream cheese on each moist slice. Whoops... another piece of me just died.

I am blessed to be celebrating Thanksgiving with my wife's family this year. An intimate get-together of somewhere around 40-50 people. I'm doubly blessed to be the one tasked with cooking 2 20-pound turkeys. I can think of no higher honor on a day like this. For someone who has honed his turkey-cooking craft to the point of perfection, this is like my Super Bowl. And Alton Brown is my own personal Bill Belichek.

Now as you might expect, the turkey will be the centerpiece of the festivities but my wife's family is a casserole-loving family. They have this stuff down to a science and their science is freakin delicious. But (you know there was a but coming didn't you?) as you might expect, casseroles are funny things. One does not simply ask what ingredients were used to create your casserole. Partly because the ingredient list is longer than the Macy's parade, and partly because there's a really good chance you don't want to know.

This, for the dieting man, presents a rather large problem.

Every time I imagine myself cooking not 1 but 2 perfect turkeys while my extended family rejoices, with tears of joy streaming down their faces... I get beyond giddy. Minutes later when I imagine all the casseroles, desserts, breads and stuffing that I won't be eating.... I start to feel like Charlie Brown kicking that damn football.

I'm inching ever closer to the 200 pound barrier folks... but I am dragging myself toward this finish line and it ain't pretty. And I haven't even thought about Christmas cookies yet.

Whoops... another piece of me just died.

Halloween Thoughts

Halloween on a diet sucks deep fried donkey balls.

Watching your children devour little pieces of candy is a torture worse than waterboarding.

If it wasn't for my pumpkin spice coffee creamer, there'd be big trouble in River City.

Next hurdle to overcome: Thanksgiving.

Shoot me in the damn face with a bazooka.

Boldly Going

Captains Log: Stardate 4815162342
My fat-ass and I have been continuing our never ending mission to explore uncharted areas of dieting. To reach out to foods that won't make me blow up like a balloon. To boldly go where this FatMan has never gone before.

I am happy to report that over the course of our trek we have bypassed the 2XL planets, skimmed beyond the XL galaxy and recently entered the L-system... where I had visited only once before. A long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away I once ventured deep into the L-system during a period known as "engagement" which eventually led to a brief layover on the planet Vegas. Ah, Vegas... I remember it well but that is a story for another entry into the log.

Anyway... once "engagement" turned to "marriage" I started drifting from the L-system and soon found it impossible to return. I meandered the universe stopping off briefly at places like the Buffett constellation, the Burger Belt and the rarely discussed doughnut-rings of Jupiter.

Now finally I have returned to where I had been so many many years ago and I am happy to report that we are nearing an undiscovered country. The locals here call it the "200-Pound Barrier". I am told that many wonders await me on the other side of that barrier, and if I close my eyes and think hard enough... I feel as though I've been there before. Many, many moons ago.

I look forward to filling my log with the stories of all the exciting things that await me on the other side. Wish me luck.

Rode out.

Quick Hits

Since it's been a while since my last post, and I don't have anything major to say I thought I'd give you lovely readers a couple of quick thoughts that nicely sum up the last few weeks:

* Eating dinner at McDonalds and staying under your calorie goal for the day should be an Olympic event. As I sadly slumped out of the restaurant, it would have been nice to hear some applause... the National Anthem playing in the background... maybe a German and a Canadian on either side of me.

*Since this whole thing began back in February I've now lost 44 pounds. That is the equivalent of my 6-year old son. I have lost a 6-year old... and I still have to lose my 4-year old daughter to reach goal weight. Crapsticks!

*Today during our teacher duty day a local church brought in some breakfast. I deftly maneuvered around the danish. I danced gracefully past the almond ring. I slid silently past the bagels. The banana nut muffin however kicked me right in the nuts while I wasn't looking. I was powerless to stop it. Thankfully the muffin rang up at only 200 calories so I think I'm OK.

*Also during my duty day I had a meeting with some administrators who brought a box of Dunkin Donuts. There I was eating my guilt-riddled banana nut muffin, and a box of light, fluffy Dunkin Donuts was mere feet from me. I couldn't even look at the box because if there happened to be a maple-glazed donut in there, I might have exploded like Pacino at the end of Scarface. I'm a fragile man folks.

The Great Salad Myth

Our new Sunday routine involves Church with the extended family, followed by lunch somewhere. Since I've started this Death Diet, eating out has become about as enjoyable as proctology exams. I'm surrounded by people eating all the fun stuff while I order rabbit food and a side order of suffering. Today we decided on Jason's Deli which I've long been a fan of because they have a kick-ass salad bar. Yes, despite my penchant for deep-fried goodness, I'm a sucker for a good salad bar.

Today I realized why this is not a good thing.

I started off with lettuce, which is standard operating procedure and very low cal. A few grape tomatoes and onions and we're off to a good start. This is where things went sideways quickly. I instinctively reach for the shredded cheese. Nope. Feta cheese. Nada. Croutons. Not so much. Bacon bits... oddly enough, bacon bits are OK. Olives... kinda high in calories but at this point I was already so distraught over the cheese and croutons that I needed a few pick-me-up olives to stop me from stabbing myself with the salad fork. Then we get to the dressing. The fact that I had to select Lite Ranch didn't bother me, it was the fact that I could only use one ladle of it instead of smothering my salad in creamy goodness like I'm used to.

I had such high hopes going into this lunch and by the time it was all over, there I was eating rabbit food again. As it turns out my penchant for salads has not been kind to my waistline lo these many years. In fact last week at Taco Bell I almost made the mistake of ordering a salad before I realized I would have been better off ordering 15 tacos. Taco Bell's "healthy" salads? Roughly the same caloric intake as a whopper (and way less fun to eat).

Salad, you backstabbing bastard... why have you forsaken me?

The Low Cal Lie

Now that I am one of those dieting people, I have begun the search for low-cal desserts because, well, every now and then a fat man needs some dessert. Yes of course there's Jell-o and that certainly has it's place but these days I have desired something a little more... um... substantial.

During our last weekly shopping excursion I noticed that Klondike, the makers of those ever-so-lovely ice cream bars, have a 100-calorie version available and it was on sale. Double happy bonus baby!! Low-cal discount snacks are like gold to me right now. So I buy a couple boxes and run home to try them out.

Now let me just say that Klondike and I go back a long way. We're old friends, as it were. In fact, Klondike bars are part of the reason I'm in this mess in the first place. So when it comes to eating a Klondike bar I have certain expectations. When I open the package I have a rough idea in my head of what this thing should taste like and what size it should be. Needless to say, when I opened the box one of my expectations was crushed instantly.

Here's how Klondike created a 100-calorie ice cream bar: They took their regular ice cream bar and made it really friggin' tiny. It was like they dipped a postage stamp in chocolate. That's cheating! You can't just give me a dinky version of your product and call it low-cal. If I could exist on smaller portions I wouldn't need to buy low-calorie crap in the first place. Weight Watchers is the ultimate producer of this kind of evil sorcery. Sure they sell chocolate cake, and yes it's very low in calories. That's because it's the size of a booger. So you eat 8 of them which kinda defeats the purpose.

It is unwise to fool a fat man, Klondike... from now on... I'm watching you.

Differences

OK, so good news first. By losing another pound (finally) I have officially been downgraded from obese to simply overweight. That's right... I can now proudly call myself just plain old fat. When you think about it, it's a rather sad state of affairs when I'm supposed to celebrate being "merely fat". It's like being downgraded from a Category 5 hurricane to a Category 3. Sure the storm may not go down in history, but it's still going to f@$ up your house.

So three cheers for the fat guy. Whoopee hot shit.

This weekend is my son's birthday and as is tradition he got to pick dinner tonight. He picked Chili's. 3 months ago this would have been a blessing. I'd like to think that when fat people die, the heaven they end up in is like Chili's. 2-for-1 margaritas, big-ass burgers and all the food that a fattie loves. However, I am a man on a diet. A soul-sucking, suicide-inducing diet that turns a joyous trip to Chili's into a hour-long session of Cambodian prison-level torture.

Let's start with the menu. The "low-cal" portion of the menu leaves plenty to be desired. I settled on the 6 oz. sirloin that comes with a metric ton of steamed broccoli (it's steamed to guarantee any semblance of taste is completely wiped out). A 6 oz. sirloin. Frankly I didn't think steak came that small. When it arrived it might have been the most depressing piece of charred cow I'd ever laid eyes on. I've crapped bigger than my steak. *sigh*

My kids, oblivious to my plight, order macaroni and cheese and a cheeseburger, both of which look positively delicious next to my turd-meat.In the old days I would finish my meal AND finish whatever they left behind. This time I was merely a hapless bystander as the majority of their dinners went uneaten. *double sigh*

Just when I think the night can't get any worse, the wait staff does their birthday song shtick for my son and deliver unto him the molten chocolate cake. For the unaware, it's a chocolate cake in the shape of a volcano. Inside there's a puddle of warm chocolate goo, and sitting on the top is a big ol' scoop of ice cream. It's one of the 7 wonders of the dessert world. This isn't just a food item, it's a freaking achievement. Naturally my kids pick at it for a couple minutes, eat most of the ice cream and leave the majority of the cake. The moist delicious warm cake is now sitting in a pool of recently melted ice cream (which as we all know is a fantastic combination). And it's just sitting at me. Staring. Begging me to eat it. It was the saddest piece of volcano cake I'd ever seen in my life. As the waitress cleared the table I damn near cried. That cake was my Juliet and I was it's Romeo. Star-crossed lovers destined to never be together.

Shoot me now.

A Powerful Force

As an Italian, I am what you would call an "emotional eater". When we're happy, we eat lots of food to celebrate. When we grieve, we eat lots of food to commiserate. When we're sad, nervous, celebrating, tired, overjoyed, slightly annoyed, depressed or just a little down in the dumps... we eat. It's one of those things that makes it very hard to stay on a diet because no matter how we're feeling we generally have only one response: break out everything in the fridge and party down! There is however one particular emotion that tends to trump the others in my case: frustration.

I have the tendency to lose lots of patience in a short amount of time. Sunday several tiny frustrations hit me in rapid succession while I was attempting to clean the kitchen. Taken separately... no big deal. When they gang up like that it's a recipe for disaster. Actually it's more like a recipe for an extra large pizza with 4 toppings and 2 kinds of cheese. When I get pushed to the edge of frustration my appetite becomes a super power. Some of you comic book nerds might be familiar with Galactus, a being so large he eats entire planets. Yeah, I'm kinda like that.

So there I was Sunday, building into a Hulk rage (seriously, what's with all the super hero references?), standing right next to the fridge and I suddenly developed a craving for... um... everything. If a live animal wandered by, I would have thrown it on the grill, doused it in ketchup and the rest would be history. Thankfully the livestock knew better then to get in my way. The salad however was not so lucky. It died a horrible death. A quick and painless death... but horrible nonetheless. The rest of the day was spent looking for other similarly low-calorie foodstuffs to maim, but came up painfully short. I kept stalking the kitchen like a crazed lion to no avail. This wild beast would have to wait until dinner.

Those chicken tacos never knew what hit them.... poor bastards.

Somehow I made it through the day without completely going off the diet, which is a much more monumental achievement that most people understand. From that perspective I feel pretty good about myself, but honestly I kinda miss my old buddy. As always when I look in the mirror I'm happy, but when I look in the fridge I'm so, so sad.

B(S)MI

OK, I think I have successfully made it through the dark times of craving things and the Fat God's have rewarded me by getting me off the plateau I was on. Big time. Since last week I'm down another 5 pounds after a couple weeks of holding steady. This, of course, is great news because it brings me 5 pounds closer to my goal weight, which I will celebrate by eating the world's largest burger, thus starting this whole process over again. Que sera sera.

After recording my weight loss this morning I decided I could use a good laugh so I activated the BMI Calculator on MyFitnessPal. For those not "in the know", BMI stands for Body Mass Index. Ideally, you type in your age, weight, sex and height and it spits out a number. That number measures whether you're underweight, perfect, overweight or obese. In reality however, the people that invented the BMI statistic are a bunch of celery-crunching hippies who hug trees, smoke pot and still think it's cool to own a VW microbus. They are also a bunch of dumb, stupid crazy jerk-faces..... so there.

The BMI chart is so completely out of whack with reality, that at first I thought it was invented with some dark, Lord Voldemort type shit. This morning is the perfect example: Back in March I totally agree that I was obese. Beyond fat. Extra super fat ass. Boldly going where no FatMan has gone before. Since then I have now lost 35 pounds (yay me!) but according to BMI I'm still obese. WTF? In fact it turns out I have to lose another 5 pounds before I can officially be classified as "overweight". Yes you read that correctly, I have not begun to be fat! I'm actually busting my ass on this diet just so I can call myself fat.

In case you're wondering, once I attain "fatness", I would then have to lose another 35 pounds to be considered normal by those skinny freaks. My "target weight" is anywhere from 180 pounds to 132 pounds, which may be the most unreachable number since Joe DiMaggio hit in 56 straight games. Seriously folks, I have body parts that weigh 132 pounds... I'll let the ladies guess which ones.

Thank you, thank you... I'll be here all week. Try the veal! (But don't eat a lot of it or you'll never reach your ideal BMI!)

A PSA for "normal people"

This is a Public Service Announcement from the National Fat People Association: If you are carrying any food item that would be considered a dessert or anything that approaches the realm of "fast food", it is not considered wise to get anywhere near one of us "Fatties". This is especially true following a hard day at work, or a Friday after a long week, or any holiday. Screw it... how about just any day ending in a "y" OK?

If you come across a fattie on a diet then you must be extraordinarily careful not to get too close to them while holding the aforementioned tasty food item. Tempting or teasing the fattie with the food could result in loss of said food, and serious injury. Health risks include:
*being trampled by fatties en route to the food
*being stabbed with sporks in an attempt to snare the food from you
*being sat on by a fattie because you refuse to give them your food
*being beaten to death with a pizza box or similar container that holds tasty food

If you or someone you know is in possession of tasty food, run and hide before it's too late!

Seriously, my wife came home with half of a cold pizza last night after I had used up all my calories and it nearly brought me to tears. Today I took my son to Publix so he could pick out a treat. He grabbed a maple-glazed doughnut which as everyone knows is only the greatest thing in the history of the world. I kept meandering around the store like an orphaned puppy looking for anything that would match the awesomeness of that doughnut yet still be low in calories. I came up very empty.

On a positive note I have now made it through the 220's and sit at 220 pounds even as of this morning. Yes I've now lost over 20 pounds since starting this crapstick diet. Whoop-dee frickin' do... now give me a cheesecake and get out of my way.

The FatMan Cometh?

Before we dispense with the hilarity I'd like to give a shout out to any fellow MyFitnessPal peeps who are now reading my blog! As always my goal is for many people to share my pain across a variety of platforms.

Now maybe it's the lack of real food that occasionally makes me delusional, but every so often I go off on a tangent that starts insane and ends up with me thinking I'm on to the next big idea. One of those tangents just happened, but I'll leave it up to you guys to decide if I'm nuts or brilliant.

Something (I won't mention what) reminded me just recently of a company in Orlando that used to sell chocolate body paint. My wife and I often discussed purchasing it, but never did. It made me realize that chocolate body paint is really something for young people, or at the very least... skinny people. Now that I'm squarely in the middle of my 30's and still a good 40 pounds away from being "not fat" I'm really no longer in the market for such things. What I am in the market for however is perhaps a Skinny Cow version. Maybe a 50 calorie, mocha swirl body paint that I could... ahem... use... and still feel good about myself in the morning. I'm not sure how much food you use in the bedroom, but if it gets out of hand you could wind up in a diabetic coma before rounding second base.

Well this of course got me to thinking a little more about the topic. Maybe I could produce a line of low-cal, dietary aids to assist in bedroom maneuvers (I'm desperately trying to keep this PG by the way). If this became a hit I could even expand beyond food. For instance, we all keep hearing how sex is this epic cardio workout. Well what if someone devised a... um... well... kinda like a pedometer but instead of measuring how many steps you take, it could measure how many... well you get the basic idea. We would just need to calculate a "calorie per thrust" formula and we'd be making real progress here.

And think of the applications! You would go to MyFitnessPal to chart your exercise and type in "sex". The app would then ask for how long you performed this activity. You would type in 15 minutes and MyFitnessPal could just slowly and sarcastically respond "Really? Reeeeaaaallly?"

The possibilities really are endless. I have tons more ideas but they involve discussions I probably shouldn't have in a public blog. I'll leave it up to you good people to let your mind wander. In the meantime I'll be trying to survive this Labor Day weekend without consuming the big juicy burger that's been in my dreams this week.

Temptation

I say this with all due respect to the woman I married... but I think my wife is trying to kill me. Saturday she pulled off her most evil scheme yet. I'm fairly sure that while she was planning it she twisted her handlebar mustache in one hand while laughing manically. I don't have proof, but in my head that's how it would have looked.

Saturday we had errands to run. 1st on the list: get Dave to the chiropractor. This whole being on my feet all day thing plus the building of the patio has taken a toll on what's left of my back. Her idea was simple: get up early, get my back cracked, then we can all go out for breakfast. Eating out is not the easiest thing for me these days but I figured I could handle it. Her recommendation: Dunkin Donuts.

OK, now she's just fucking with me.

Of course once the words escaped her lips and traveled into the ear canals of my darling children, there was no going back. So there I was, walking through the front door of the home of dozens of delicious bits of fat, lard and dough. They were all laid out in their pretty little racks right behind the counter. It was food porn. I would've felt less tempted in a strip club. Maybe we can eat breakfast at one of those next week. I approach the counter and I hear "And what would you like sir?"

Foolish question, mortal.

What I would like and what I'm about to order are two very different things indeed. Because at that moment I would have liked to shove a dozen anythings all over my face. Boston creme, Bavarian creme, jelly filled, and God help you all if there were any maple glazed donuts back there. I would punch a family member in the face for a maple glazed donut. I had to keep my eyes on the menu above me because staring directly at that many donuts in my condition could lead to blindness and possible death for anyone who gets in my way. I finally found something that I could order: A turkey sausage and egg white flatbread sandwich, with a side of bitterness and a big frosty mug of Please Kill Me Now.

My wife, who I love dearly (no seriously), orders the exact same thing (see, she's trying to be supportive), but then adds a side order of hash browns. Right in front of my face. Hash browns. Nature's most perfect combination of the potato and the deepest darkest grease containers any man could hope for. Now it's my personal opinion that McDonald's is home to the greatest hash browns this universe has ever produced, but Dunkin Donuts is safely in the top 5. And there my wife was, eating them in front of me. I really wanted to make out with her just so I could perhaps taste just a bit of the awesomeness for myself.

Later that evening I was pretty sure I had recovered emotionally from the breakfast experience. That's when my wife told me they just opened a Texas Roadhouse in Ft. Myers. If you've never been there before, then you have no idea why this information made me giddy and depressed all at once. They serve the largest most amazing steaks there. And rolls. Soft delicious rolls that you don't even need to chew. And do you know what you put on those rolls? Cinnamon butter. Yeah, I said it... cinnamon butter bitches! I first experienced this restaurant in Maine and haven't seen one since. The last time I ate there I ordered a 22 oz. steak (I have witnesses). Now my dear darling wife is letting me know there's one right down the road from me.

Told ya... she's trying to kill me.

MyFitnessPainInTheAss

A lot of people have been wondering how I've been keeping track of all my caloric happenings. The answer is a little website, MyFitnessPal. It's super simple, you just type in what you just ate, how much of it you ate, and it spits out how many calories it cost and how many you have left for the rest of the day. I think of MyFitnessPal as a computer generated prison guard keeping me safely locked in solitary confinement. The kind of guard who's kinda sorta your buddy and who runs the black market cigarette trade between the other inmates, but will still beat you stupid with his club if you get out of line.

My first experience with the website did not go so well. I wanted to see what a normal day of eating would look like in numeric form. Turns out I overshot my 1500 calorie goal. By a lot. I think the final number was somewhere around 2400. Not a great start, I grant you, but since then I've been able to keep under my goal every day but one (the ill-fated Beef O'Brady's experience I blogged about earlier). A pretty massive accomplishment considering where I came from.

Well now it seems I have a brand new problem. The school year has begun and I'm busy. Crazy busy. So busy that I'm forgetting to do things like eat and sleep, you know, minor things like that. The end result is that I'm staying way under 1500 calories a day without even trying. Now in my mind I'm thinking this is great. I'm busy, I'm active, I'm eating less food... what's not to like? MyFitnessPal should be singing my praises right now right? Of course not! Today I started getting warning messages (in bright red no less) on the website alerting me that I am eating too few calories and that I need to (are you f-ing kidding me?) eat more!

To recap: the website that has taken away my joy, my passion, my ever so lovely food... is telling me that I need to eat more food. Apparently I'm being TOO healthy and making too many good food choices. It was at this point that I began to look for my sledgehammer so I could put both my computer and myself out of our collective miseries. I can't win for losing for Christ's sake. But I figure, what the hell... let's try this whole "eating more" thing. Here's what transpired today:

Today was Open House at my school which meant I had to pack lunch and dinner. I skipped breakfast as always because I can't eat early in the morning (I drink coffee like a tweaking camel, but no food). For lunch I went with a can of tuna fish, mixed with light mayo and a chopped up tomato (no bread of course, because carbs are the Devil's work!). I also had a pear and a banana. I'm so healthy it makes me sick. For dinner I brought leftovers with me... 8 oz. of pork sirloin chop and a cup of broccoli. After adding that all up into MyFitnessPal I get a grand total of about 700 calories. Well shit, I'm 800 calories short so now what?

I get home and as it just so happens my fantastic wife took the kids out for pizza in my absence. Naturally the first words out of my mouth (long before things like "How was your day?" "How were the kids?", etc) were "Any left?" And as it turns out there was some left... 3 slices of Little Cesear's pepperoni pizza. Well hot diddle-y damn... looks like I'm having my happy ass some pizza tonight! I tap dance into the kitchen, floating on a cloud of fluffy bunnies and unicorns. There on the counter I found the blessed box, wherein I found 3 slices of room temperature (the ideal temperature for pizza by the way) pepperoni covered glory. Please note that just writing those words made me mildly erect.

I savor my first bite of pizza in over a month. I savor it the way a 40-year old virgin savors his wedding night. Every bite is a choir of angels in my mouth, all singing the Hallelujah Chorus to my taste buds. At this point I'm not eating this pizza... I'm romancing this pizza. I'm doing PG-13 things to this pizza. The pizza and I are rounding second base and sliding into third. It was good goddamn pizza. After my post-pizza cool down (seriously, if there was a cigarette in the house I would have smoked it) I hop onto my computer to tell MyFitnessPal the good news. I'm still in the middle of my afterglow as I tell MyFitnessPal what I just ate. And after a couple seconds MyFitnessPal returns the following information:

3/8 of Little Cesear's Pizza (pepperoni): Total calories 840
Your total calorie intake for the day: 1540
You have gone over your maximum allowed calories for the day

Damn you MyFitnessPal... damn you to hell.

Milestones

Was it Shakespeare or Wilfred Brimley who once wrote "Now is the winter of our discontent"? Well whoever said it, I'm willing to bet a sizable about of money that guy was on a 1500 calorie diet. Because there's pantloads of discontent going on around here.

For starters, today is Friday and therefore the end of the first full week of teaching. Now while I do love my class this year, I don't care what you teach, where you teach, and what kids you have... after the first week you needs to get you some drinky drinky (or as my wife and I refer to it around the kids "Pain Go Bye Bye Juice"). The problem (as I'm sure you can guess by this point), is that adult beverages tend to be rather high on the calorie count. Now that's not to say I can't have a frosty beverage or two, but methinks "one or two" isn't a number that's going to have any substantial effect. So instead of organizing an after school faculty meeting at the nearest happy hour (wink wink), I went home and ate pork stir fry. It WAS delicious but it was NOT 5 margaritas all lined up and marching their way into my mouth to have a little Mexican hat dance in my belly.

But hey, it's not all bad news... this morning the scale registered a 227 which means I've crossed the 230 pound barrier. Since I'm sure some of you have never quite dealt with numbers that large, please allow me to translate: I've been downgraded from a Double Super Fat-Ass to your standard garden variety Super Fat-Ass.

To put it yet another way, today I wore a shirt that was one size smaller than what I've been able to wear in well over a year. Instead of my normal XXL, the shirt was XL and fit me comfortably. And while that is in fact something to celebrate, let's not forget what XL actually stands for. It's extra-large, as in bigger than large. Like you are so large, you defy all previous measurements of just plain old large and we had to create a whole new way of sizing clothes just to find enough material to cover your fat ass.
I think Winston Wolf said it best:

Here's the raw data for you numbers people:
What I weighed when I first bought my scale around February: 252
What I weight before I went to see the Evil Doctor in July: 242
What I weigh as of this morning: 227
Total weight lost: 25 pounds
Total number of crushed hopes and dreams: untold millions

Good News Bad News

Good news gang! It's becoming easier for me to stay under that 1500 calorie mark every day. No seriously... today I think I ended around 1250. The bad news? I want to shove a whole pizza down my face right now and bask in the glory of sauce all over my face. Oh wait, there's more bad news! I'm not really... oh how do you say it again.... LOSING WEIGHT! Yeah, you would think my body would be rapidly running through its vast stores of fat considering the way I've been leaving the tank empty these past few weeks. Nope. Apparently my body is perfectly content to be both fat and hungry at the same time.

There's really not much more to blog about here, but as long as I've already started this post I might as well rant (be honest, that's what you read this thing for anyway). OK, here goes. People offering words of encouragement need to understand the type of encouragement that fat people want to hear. Here is a brief list of things you should NOT say to a fat man on a diet:

1.) "Ya know, pretty soon you won't even have those cravings anymore."- This is a vicious lie mixed with a healthy dose of bullshit. Of course I'm going to have those cravings! Back in the good old days of eating hamburgers, guess what my body said it wanted? More hamburgers! Now that I've cut off that beef-on-a-bun pipeline, not only does my body crave the burger... it n-e-e-d-s the burger. It wants the burger. It wants to put on sexy lingerie and leave a trail of rose petals for the burger, hoping that the burger will follow those rose petals into the bedroom, where my body can then make sweet, sweet love to the burger. OK, that went to a weird place just now but I'm serious. I'm not fat because I made a few wacky choices one day. I love my food. Italians don't eat to live like some of you heartless hippies out there. We live to eat. It's fun, it's awesome, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So you can sprinkle whatever crap ass appetite suppressant you want over your food. Your stomach may think it's full, but the brain (and the heart) may override the system and say "What the hell, 3 more slices of pepperoni please!"

2.) "This isn't just a diet, it's a new way of life"- Holy fucking monkeys you have got to be joking me. If this is my new way of life I think I'll swing by my local gun store and Cobain my way out of this Greek tragedy. Assuming I continue to lose weight (and at this point, that's a pretty big assumption), I can talk myself into this hell-on-wheels for a couple months but if you think I'm going to do this on a permanent basis then you are either delusional or I really need the number of your weed dealer. Actually, weed makes you hungry... scratch that thought. Here's the dirty little secret that fat people have a hard time admitting: On the list of things worth living for, food is safely in the Top 5. And to be honest, after family and friends (generally 1-2 in some order) food is probably #3 for me. The skinny people who read this have no idea what I'm talking about, but my fatties are all nodding in agreement.

Good food, and I mean really good food, is like a girlfriend you keep breaking up with. 6 months go by, you think you've gotten her out of your system then you see her at a club and she looks amazing. You rationalize every one of her annoying little habits as you pound drinks. You talk, you catch up and by your 4th margarita you're convinced that this time it's going to be different. "Moderation" you tell yourself. That's the key baby! Just take it nice and easy and this time things are going to work out. So you jump back into bed with her, have a weekend of mind-bending sex, and two weeks later she's moving back in. Fast forward 6 weeks and she's packing her bags in the midst of yet another screaming match and you wonder (like a schmuck) how things ended up like this, and you vow to never (and I mean NEVER) go through this shit again (and this time... I mean it!). Vicious cycle people... vicious cycle. Where was I... oh yeah.

3.) "One way to curb hunger is to drink lots of water."- Yes, and one way to get you to stop talking is to put my fist through your skull but I don't think it's the most effective way of getting the job done. I understand that water is calorie free and necessary for hydration and all that, but using it to stop me from being hungry? Bitch please. Do you know what water tastes like? It tastes like f-ing water! Who in their right mind goes to the fridge and thinks "Yeah, I really have my tasters up for some chocolate cake, but I'll just drink a big glass of water instead." INSTEAD? You're using water as a substitute for chocolate cake?!? Does your brain take the short bus to Special Olympics camp or something? Because if I tried to fool my brain into thinking that water was a big ol' slice of cake, it would activate the sensation of me getting kicked in the balls by a mountain goat until I gave it cake. And believe it or not, people actually do this. Then again, people also vote democrat and watch Jersey Shore so I guess nothing should be a surprise to me anymore.

So next time you see a fat person on a diet, instead of offering up one of these limp platitudes, try instead to console us through these dark times. Treat us like you would someone who's dying of terminal cancer... with a pat on the back and one of those meaningful "We're with ya buddy." looks. Because going on a diet is a lot like having a terminal illness... except not really because those people can eat whatever the fuck they want. Because... you know... they'll be dead soon and all. Just sayin'.... silver lining and all.

Stress

You know this diet has really sucked most of the fun out of eating, but when you're losing close to a pound a day, it's hard to argue much. The last few days however the weight-loss train has stalled and started even rolling backwards a bit. WTF people? How can you ever gain weight while eating meals that would only satisfy supermodels and Ethiopians? The answer, as it turns out, is frustrating and stupid.

OK, let's try to follow this logic: If you eat too much food, you gain weight and get fat. We all know this. If you eat too little food, your body shuts down, goes into starvation mood and you (wait for it) GAIN WEIGHT. What sort of magical voodoo bullshit is this? One of these days when I've shuffled off this mortal coil and I meet my maker, you can bet your sweet candy-ass that this will be Question 1. But wait, the stupidity doesn't end there.

When you workout or do anything exercise-ish, your heart rate increases, you sweat, you breathe deeper, and your muscles tighten more than usual. This is considered good for your body and will lead to weight loss. When you are stressed out your heart rate increases, you sweat, you breathe deeper, and your muscles tighten more than usual. This, however, is NOT good for your body and will lead to (you guessed it) weight gain. Are you f-ing kidding me? This has got to be some sick joke that Mr. Divine Creator slapped together on one of his off days. Turns out when you're stressed your body produces cortisol which does all sorts of wonderful things to your body including keeping you from losing weight.

So I have to eat less, but not too much less... and I need my body to feel all the side effects of being stressed without actually BEING stressed. All of this while I try to survive the first week of school, build a patio, and shepherd my children through their first week of kindergarten and VPK respectively. You can think whatever you want about God and his creation skills, but I think it's clear that his biological engineering skills suck big time.

Falling off the wagon

You know what I did today? I ate onion rings. Not a plateful like I used to, just a few... and they were freakin' delicious! It was like taking a bite of a rainbow that was deep fried in pixie farts, painstakingly hand crafted by magical elves who sprinkled it with angel dust, and delivered it to my mouth while riding Apollo's golden f-ing chariot. These were good onion rings people.

For the main course I ordered a salad. OK just kidding, I ordered the Santa Fe salad. Calling this thing a salad is like calling Twilight a piece of literature. Yes technically it is a "book" by the most standard of definitions. It is filled with pages and those pages have words on them, but after that the similarities end.

The "salad" I ordered did contain pieces of lettuce (standard operating procedure), and other fine veggies (off to a good start!). On top of said veggies there was even grilled chicken breast. (Zounds! This must be the healthiest thing ever!) Then we get to the cheese (not bad), and the dressing (hey, we need some flavor right?) and the sour cream on the side (wait, what?), and the fact that this whole thing came delivered in one of those yummy torilla-bowl-shaped-thingys. (oh shit!) Total calorie count: 1024

Considering I'm limited to 1500 of those things a day, using over two-thirds of them on one damn meal is a bit of a problem. Add the onion rings and today was not the best day diet-wise. However I did spend 6 hours outside in the face-melting Florida sun building a patio so I'm going to say that I earned my little trip down Crap Food Memory Lane.

And good news! We are no where near being done building this patio so I'll have plenty more hours to spend outside, pounding individual bricks into place while I sweat like a whore in church and my dangly man-parts adhere themselves to my leg like velcro. Joy!

Seriously?

Let's recap shall we? My physician, Doctor Voldemort, instead of giving me drugs to help me lose weight (which he admitted he had access to), instead restricted me to 1500 calories a day. That, by the way, is the same number of calories a Cambodian prisoner gets. Fun fact. I was all prepared for it to fail and triumphantly go back to my doctor, call him a quack and demand my drugs. Fate, however had other plans. In less then 2 weeks I've lost 10 pounds. Which is a huge win for my fat ass, but a big loss for my indignation.

Now that we're all caught up, I can tell you that this week I participated in the sleep study. The doc recommended it because apparently sleep apnea can prevent you from losing weight. At least that's what he told me. Now that I've been through it, I think it was just him being evil again. For starters they hook you up to hundreds of wires, attached to all parts of your body. And since I'm a rather hairy man, they actually had to shave patches of my leg hair to get stuff to stick. Not all of my legs mind you, just patches. Patches just large enough so that people will look at me and think "That man is frigging retarded." Awesome. When they were done I looked like this:

Which of course made me think of this:

It's at this point that they tell me to sleep normally like I would at home. Do other people wrap themselves in bandages and attach wires to their face? Is this normal anywhere outside of Neverland Ranch? Is there a fetish out there I'm not aware of? Needless to say sleep was not on the table, so I can only imagine what their study will find.

But wait, it gets worse! (or at least more irritating) My wife is in the same "I need to lose weight" predicament as I am, and went to see the same doctor that I saw. Naturally I was chuckling to myself because I knew what he was going to say. No drugs for you, diet and exercise *insert evil laugh here*  and whammo blammo my wife would be in the same boat as me. Huzzah! Someone else to feel my 1500 calorie pain!

What happens? First he orders her to retake her blood test, then he assures her that if there's nothing medically wrong with her, he can prescribe her some medication to help her lose weight. Are you fucking serious? Are you just trying to get into my wife's pants or is your sole purpose in life to make me a miserable wretch?

I'm not sure why God has unzipped his pants and pissed on me, but I sure would appreciate an umbrella next time. Until then, I'll be here slowly transforming from fat and happy to thin and surly. You've been warned.

Damn the man

So anyone who knows me, knows of my insatiable need to be right. It's a drug, I'm addicted, whatcha gonna do? Thankfully because I'm so awesome I tend to be right a lot. Seriously high percentage over here. No joke, I have documentation and everything. So it is with much chagrin and a little bitterness that I admit here once and for all that it's possible I may not be 100% exactly right in this one isolated instance.

As it turns out Dr. Hitler (he of the 1500 calories a day diet) may have been on to something. I've been safely under 1500 calories for the past few days now. When you combine that with the exercise I've been getting from attempting to turn our backyard into a patio, you actually get results. Damn it all! I went to this guy looking for a bottle of happiness and instead I get a diet of pain, suffering, and weight loss. Actual weight loss. Like a pound a day at my current clip.

I guess it's too much to ask for that I continue to lose a pound a day for the next 40 days and get to my goal weight so I can eat a friggin' cheeseburger? *sigh* It's not like I mind scarfing down lettuce like a crack-induced 240-lb rabbit. I mean, who doesn't right? But at some point I'm going to need a pizza. Not a "slice", not some pretend tofu, diet veggie shit on a disc. A pizza. A whole, entire pizza cut up into slices that all end up in my mouth. A pizza covered in cheese and sauce and cheese and possibly the carcass of a dead animal. We're not quite there yet, but at some point we will be. And when that day comes my friends, you would be wise to not be in my way.

Weight when I started- 245ish
Weight as of this morning- 238
Calories consumed today- 1380
Shocked FatMen- 1

Who knew?

So amazingly I've managed to stay at or under 1500 calories for three straight days now. (pause for my standing ovation) I really should just end my post right there because that's a pretty mammoth statement coming from someone who's roughly the size of a mammoth.

Now some people will say that I'm only managing to stay under my Nazi-approved calorie count because I'm not counting my 2 cups of coffee in the morning. And to those people, I would like to instruct you to fornicate vigorously with your own person. *paints face blue and hops on a horse* This diet may take away my doughnuts and cake.... but they'll never take.... MY CAFFEINE!!!! *cut to wide angle shot of thousands of men in kilts rejoicing at my words*

Naturally the universe continues to challenge me. During these last two days I've been attending teacher trainings and the #1 rule that all trainers must abide by is: "Thou shalt hand out much chocolately goodness to keep your audience from falling asleep and/or rioting." And I have to hand it to my trainers, they brought the chocolate thunder. Today a box of peanut butter M&M's sat on my desk and taunted me for 3 full hours. Inside that cardboard fortress lay dozens of peanut butter balls ever so moist, so sweet, so lovely. Every one tenderly covered with a candy shell. A delicious protector of the precious peanut butter that eagerly waits to be eaten underneath.

I may or may not have an erection right now but I can't be the only one that gets horny thinking about peanut butter M&M's right? RIGHT??!!??

Day 2: And here... we.... go.

One of the joys of being a teacher (stop laughing, there are joys... no really) are the occasional free meals you receive. Naturally since today was our first day back from summer break, my school rolled out a breakfast spread of epic proportions. We're talking muffins, eggs, home fries, sausage, and the most glorious breakfast food ever invented... bacon. In the past I would have made that buffet my bitch. I would have left it whimpering and begging for the sweet release of death. But the new me? The 1500-calorie-a-day me? He just sat there and watched others enjoy the sweet, sweet taste of breakfast awesomeness. Not going to lie... I died a little inside this morning.

The good news here is that since I'm officially back to school now I'll be more on a routine and theoretically more likely to stick to this diet. Plus I'm running around decorating my classroom instead of planting my fat ass on the couch. Double plus Kristin and I have been granted permission to build our patio so after school today we started the long process of digging out the space that we'll be using. A couple of weeks of that and I damn well better be thin.

So now it's the end of Day 2 and believe it or not according to My Fitness Pal I'm at 1419 calories today. Sure I'm grumpy. Sure I'm willing to chew on a real live cow right now. Sure I feel like Anne Frank, chronicling my painful experiences for future generations (what... too soon?). It'll all pay off down the road. Or at least it better, or I'm going to hunt my doctor down, kill him, deep fry him and eat him with a side order of hash browns.

Hello again

Oh boy, another blog. I know, I know, anyone who stumbles upon this thing is probably already bored but bear with me here. I'm well aware that blogging is not exactly the most current form of expression out there, but considering my fashion sense is typically 10 years behind the times, it makes sense that my technological sense follows suit.

The impetus behind this blog? My never ending quest to become less fat than I currently am. Why now? Good question. Probably because today can be described as the first day of my new diet and exercise plan. Oh sure I exercise. Hell I currently have memberships to two different gyms, one of which I actually use. It's the dieting portion of the equation that's been somewhat... um... lacking? For instance, most diets allow you 1 day a week to go crazy and eat whatever you want as a way of keeping your metabolism on its toes. My diet allowed 3-4 of those days a week depending on mood and the fortunes of whatever team I was following that season. Not exactly a recipe for success. In fact in the first 5 months of my old plan I dropped 7 pounds. Better than nothing, but not by much. Especially when I have to lose enough weight to make a new 6-year old.

What started this recent desire to do something was my recent visit to the doctor. After getting blood work done (always a joy), I met with him this morning to go over the results. As a tride and true lazy person my first hope was that I simply had a 50 pound tumor in my stomach and that simple surgery would render me skinny. No dice. Beyond that I was hopeful that my cholesterol level would be stupid high and the doctor would be forced to prescribe some amazing wonder drug that would melt the fat off my body. Strike two. My last resort was that possibly I was born without a thyroid or that it had packed its bags and fled in the middle of the night, and I would qualify for some radical medication that would skinny me up real quick. Well son of a bitch if my thyroid isn't working properly! In fact it turns out I'm actually perfectly healthy except for the extra 50-60 pounds I'm carrying. Perfectly healthy! The nerve of my body to work properly like that. So naturally since I'm all systems go, my doctors prescription for losing weight? Diet and exercise. Shit! Are you serious? No surgery, no magic pills, nothing except diet and friggin' exercise. Thank God we have Obamacare now so everyone in America can have access to medical wisdom like this. What the hell good is a doctor if he doesn't hand out good drugs? Throw the FatMan a bone dude!

So as of today I've been put on a 1500 calorie-a-day diet. To keep me on the straight and narrow I've now officially joined the My Fitness Pal website which several people have recommended. It really is quite the easy way to track everything, so now I present to you... the blog-following public... my Day 1 numbers:

Current Weight: 245
Goal Weight: 200
Total Calories Allowed: 1500
Total Calories Consumed: 2142.... crapsticks! Off to a bit of a rough start here.