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.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, October 15, 2012
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.
* 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.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
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?
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?
Friday, September 28, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, September 21, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, September 17, 2012
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.
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.
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