My bestest friend Sra recently gave me a CD with some pictures she’s taken over the last couple of years at various outdoorsy things we’ve done. This particular picture struck me hard as I looked at it though, because it completely tells the tale of why I’m dieting to lose the GIANT gut I’ve acquired.

This shot was taken a while ago when we were up on Antelope Island, which juts out into the Great (WTF is that smell?) Salt Lake. I was at my most massive then, at around 210. As you can see, it’s horrifying. I didn’t have a clue myself until I saw this picture.

At first, I thought that perhaps the wind had gotten up into my shirt and puffed it out. It was a pretty windy day, after all. However, upon closer inspection, my arms are actually pinned up to my sides as I hold the rock in anticipation of some serious (albeit unsuccessful) skippage on the water in the background. So I guess I can’t use that excuse. Also note the roundness of the face and the plump cheeks. Frightening! There is a little wind puffage in the shirt, but 99% of that bulk is pure me. Sad, I know.

Many of my readers are looking at this picture going, “well, that’s just some normal fat guy on a beach.” However, my friends back home and those who have known me in the past are saying, “DAAYYYYYYYYUUM!” I know, I know. It’s pretty bad.

The real kicker came to me a month or so ago during the Bountiful parade up north. I volunteer some of my time as a cadet in the 501^st Legion as a spotter and photographer. The 501^st is a charity costuming organization based on Star Wars characters, and the costumes they wear really draw crowds and put smiles on the faces of many people, and help raise a good deal of money to boot. Typically, I’ll shoot some video during parades to use later in PR and DVD presentations to promote the group, but this time I turned the video camera over to my friend while I took stills. She did a spectacular job too, much better than I normally do, but upon watching the video when I got home I’d notice that on occasion a huge, blobby creature would lumber into frame during the walk at various times. I had to wrack my brain for a second, thinking, when did we get a Jabba the Hutt costume? Until I realized it was me! AAAAHHH! I made up my mind that very day to change.

So far it’s working. I’m down to 198lbs and lost an inch or two in circumference. I can see some definition starting to creep back into the layers of fat, and I feel healthier than I have in years. Just gotta keep it going.  I will be again be a sexy beast!  I just need to buckle down.

No more Humongosaurus!

I gotta tell you, I feel so much better already.

This is week three of my diet.  After thinking about it a lot, and on the advice of others, I decided that 1000 calories per day was just too little.  Not only is it pretty much impossible to do, but it’s not healthy.  I knew that going into it, but luckily common sense prevailed and I upped my daily count.

I did some research on ye olde Internet and found some formulas and calculations to determine my proper dietary needs.  For a 200lb man, at 5′10, and 493 years old, my calorie requirements are 1,950 calories per day.  That still seems pretty high to me, so I’ve comprimised and set my goal between 1,200 and 1,500.  I think that’s a bit more realistic, as well as healthier to boot.

I’m quite pleased to announce that I’ve lost five pounds, and now stand at an even 200 (as of today).  More than that, I can honestly see a difference in the size of my waist.  I know there’s a “wishful thinking” factor, but there’s definitely a difference to be seen.  I also notice a slight difference in my face too, and that’s got me excited as well.  I’m very happy with my progress so far.

Here’s a breakdown of averages according to the data I’ve been keeping:

Fat – 28.5% (340 grams)
Protein – 13.9% (372 grams)
Carbohydrates – 57.6% (1,545 grams)
Alcohol – 0.0%
Other – 0.0%

My carbs are a little high, and my protein is a little low, but my fat intake is right about where it should be.  I also had a beer last Saturday (thanks Sra!), but it didn’t have enough effect to register in the formula.  With some slight adjustments, I’ll be sitting pretty.

Daily Calorie Intake – 1,752 cals
Daily Sodium Intake – 2,930 mg
Daily Sugar Intake – 82 grams
Daily Cholesterol Intake – 156 mg
Daily Saturated Fat Intake – 21 grams
Daily Fiber Intake – 13 grams

As you can see, I’m a little over my average for calories per day, but this was due to my “cheat meal” of delicious pizza last Saturday, so the curve is a little off.  I’m still under the 1,950 suggestion though, so it’s all good.

I’m also burning an average of 2,800 calories per day, so that’s another plus.  I actually hope to up this a little in coming weeks.

Overall, I simply feel better.  I’m not all “bloaty” like I’ve been feeling for a good year now, and I’m happier when I catch a glance in the mirror and can actually see progress.  I even did Ensign Peak earlier tonight to watch the sunset, and made it to the top without having a heart attack or wheezing like Orson Wells in the 300 meter hurdles.

Progress, my friends.  My six-pack will be back.

I’m getting my six-pack back.  Actually, I still have it.  It’s hidden under a large, protective layer of fat.  I have stealth abs.  Carefully concealed with several years of pizza and steaks and beer and soda pop, but ready at a moment’s notice to assist my body with the strength and support to do things as exciting as sitting on the couch, or sitting in my computer chair, or riding my bike!  That’s right, I’ve been riding a lot lately too.

It’s part of my exercise regimen, which also involves walking and hiking.  I’ve also begun a "diet" of sorts, which isn’t so much a diet as it is a philosophy of eating.

I’ve noticed two things during my recent rides, neither of which is good.  One, I’m seriously out of shape.  Like gasping, wheezing, soaked with sweat out of shape, and that’s just carrying my bike down the front stairs of my apartment.  Two, all of Utah is uphill in all four directions.  I mean, really… is it so much to ask for a break?  All of my bike-riding skills were forged in Ohio, which is flatter than Natalie Portman under a bus tire.  My body wasn’t designed to climb vertical surfaces on a personal, human-powered conveyance.  I look around me and see all the serious bikers, guys and girls with the full-getup, which includes the tight biker shorts, funky hat with sunglasses, yellow stretchy jersey, and clip-shoes, casually climbing 85-degree hills in 95-degree weather without even giving it a second thought, and I can only think "man, a big slice of pizza and an ice cold root beer, along with a big bowl of ice cream sounds really good right about now."

Which leads me to my next thought.  I’m always hungry these days.  My "diet" is really just a change in my eating habits.  Whereas before, I’d eat two or three gigantic meals every day, consisting of anything that moved slowly enough for me to jab with a fork, (especially if it included pepperoni.) Now I eat three or four very small meals, spaced out a bit.  When I say "meals", I mean something like a piece of toast with peanut butter.  Or an egg.  Under 1000 calories a day is what I’m starving myself with presently, and I’m always hungry. 

You would think that by eating several times per day, along with drinking approximately 50.7 ounces of water, my hunger would be satiated.  You would be wrong.  Never underestimate the power of desire, especially when you bike past an Apollo Burger routinely.  Several years of being fat have taught my subconscious that mass quantities of food are what I need, and no piddly egg is gonna change that.  I have paradigm issues to conquer for sure.

I’ve been on my diet and exercise deal now for almost two weeks, and by god, I do notice a difference.  One, my enormous super-orbital gut looks a little more deflated.  I don’t feel anywhere near as bloated or Hutt-like anymore, and my reflection occasionally shows a tantalizing glimpse of the old abdominal muscles.  I’m starting to feel better, and if I could deal with the hunger thing, I’d be in good shape.  I’m well on target for my September deadline for gut-freedom, and if I can keep the pace, it will happen even before that. 

I’m proud of me so far.  I’ve been able to will myself away from junky food.  I have a bottle of Sprite that I keep in my fridge as a reminder not to drink it.  It sits there, mocking me with it’s lemon-lime goodness, but I just scoff.  I will triumph over the Sprite, just as I will regain my wonderful 25 year-old body.  Just don’t ask me to climb that damn hill by my house on my bike anymore, and we’re cool.

Ever since I recently became vocationally displaced, I struggle through each day in a fit of absolute boredom. Money isn’t too much of an issue (at least not yet), but time has become a problem.

You know how you get up and go to work every day, thinking “if I just had some time to myself, time I could spend doing the things I want to do, instead of slaving away at this job, working for meager wages and bowing to the Man… if I could just have some free time, think of the things I could accomplish!” Yeah, I used to think that too. The problem lies with willpower and drive. In my case, I had all these grand schemes and desires and things I wished to do, if “I only had the time”. Well, I have lots of time now. How many of those things have I done?

I’ve pissed away roughly two months (as of tomorrow, actually) now and have nothing to show for it. All of those cool ideas and things I wanted to work on in my previously non-existent free time have been shuffled to the back to make room for my ever depressing boredom. Why is it that I can’t seem to get the ambition to start these projects? Am I really that lazy?

So, it’s been two months. Now I need to get a job. What to do? Trouble is, I don’t want to get a job. As bored as I am on a daily basis, the prospect of going back to a place where I have no control over my life and personal time is abhorrent. I like sleeping in late. I like not having a defined schedule, even though it’s difficult to fill my day. I like not answering to anyone but myself and the ever-increasing need to eat. True, it’s not very lucrative to sit around all day, getting fatter and lazier, but it beats the 9 to 5 job grind.

There is a can of Pringles to my left. It’s slightly more than half full at the moment, a sign that I’ve been partaking in the Pringlly-goodness at times. The can sits there, mocking me with it’s bright red exterior and little smiley cartoon-character logo. The logo doesn’t have a mouth, but the set of his eyebrows and the shape of his moustache indicate a smile to me. It whispers, “you know you want a Pringle. You know you want one. Go ahead, have a Pringle. They are salty and delicious, and you know you want one.” Therein lies the problem: One Pringle is indeed salty and delicious, but ten Pringles are exquisite. Fifteen Pringles would just about do, and twenty Pringles would constitute a blissful snack.

So why is it there? I could simply take the delicious Pringles into the kitchen and put them in a cupboard. Then I wouldn’t be tempted to eat some. But, I keep them there for a reason. They are a constant reminder that I’m lazy and I’m fat. They are a constant reminder that the longer I sit here surfing the Internet and playing with Photoshop, the lazier and fatter I’m going to get. They are a constant reminder that I am unemployed, and that the money I do have saved is flowing away like a river of currency, not being replaced. Outgoing, not incoming. It is a constant reminder that I’ve somehow lost the willpower and the drive to control my own destiny. Reminds me of being at work, only without the making money part.

Plus, sometimes it reminds me that I just want a Pringle.

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