2 months.
Allllrighty then, it's been two solid months, and after seeing and hearing my friends reaction when I went to Brians for 'standing room only' Celtics night, I think I'm on the right path. Brian, (my shorter but significantly more creative and talented friend) is convinced that if I keep at this diet the way I'm going, I'll be "unrecognizable" by my wedding. I hope not. Seriously, if I show up at my wedding and nobody know's I'm the groom, I'm going to be very confused and frustrated that I'd have to show everyone my 5th nipple just to prove it's me.
So I show up to Brians apartment, and it's like Temptation Island for dieting fatties. Pizza, beer, potato salad, chips...to be honest, it didn't really effect me all too much. Sure, sure, I played it off as if I wasn't looking at that table of food like a buxom Swedish massuer who just informed me that the happy ending will be free of charge. But I wanted that happy ending...I wanted that happy ending in my stomach. No, wait...that didn't sound right. Ok, well, it made me wish I ate something before I went over to Brians, but I kept drinking water so I wouldn't think about the fatty maker feast on the table in front of me. "You're just thirsty, you're just thirsty" hahahaa.
Besides that, I haven't really be tempted to cross over that line again. I've kept with my "chicken/lettuce and whatever else isn't full of carbs/sugars" lunch. But it's become a bit easier. If there's nothing that I can have at any of the cooking stations, I can make a plate of lettuce, and the chef there will grill me up some chicken, and sometimes bacon. It's like having my own mediocre meal chef. Matter of fact, maybe I'll start my own show on the food network, called "Mediocre Chef" and I'll go from office to office, cooking meals that aren't that great. Like chicken with a basil leaf dropped on it after it's cooked in no spices, and just a touch overdone. It'll be good enough where people won't complain, but not quite good enough for any type of positive feedback. "Up next, fried hamburger on a plate." I can hear the money machine starting up right now.
I've decided not to ever ask for questions again, and just be content with the fact that people take time out of their days to read my nonsensical ramblings about trying not to be a fat mess. Speaking of fat mess, I believe I may have dropped down a couple categories in the "fatty meter". Everyone knows what the fatty meter is.
Chubby
Husky
Fat
Real Fat
Holy crap
Skin meshed with the couch that you haven't left in 8 years.
I've gone from "Holy crap" to somewhere between "Fat" and "Real fat" BUT not getting those, "How does he NOT smell like shit" looks is quite refreshing. By the time my wedding comes around, with any luck, and if I keep at it, I'll be right back at my high school size...."Husky".
So, with 2 months down, and a little less than 4 to go, I feel I'm making progress. Yesterday was about 80 degrees with high humidity, so it was a good guage of how hot the summer's going to be. Now I understand that it's going to be much hotter at times, but it was helpful. I now realize I need more 'airy' shorts, and a sleeveless 'tough guy' shirt if I'm going to last during the hot days. Also, if I'm at where I'd like to be at, come September, I will be playing semi-pro football. No excuses, if I can quit cigarettes, and drop hundreds of pounds, I can join some raggedy football team and stick to it. So ya, that's it, come September this new husband will be reborn in the glow of semi-professional American Football. See you in a week.
So I show up to Brians apartment, and it's like Temptation Island for dieting fatties. Pizza, beer, potato salad, chips...to be honest, it didn't really effect me all too much. Sure, sure, I played it off as if I wasn't looking at that table of food like a buxom Swedish massuer who just informed me that the happy ending will be free of charge. But I wanted that happy ending...I wanted that happy ending in my stomach. No, wait...that didn't sound right. Ok, well, it made me wish I ate something before I went over to Brians, but I kept drinking water so I wouldn't think about the fatty maker feast on the table in front of me. "You're just thirsty, you're just thirsty" hahahaa.
Besides that, I haven't really be tempted to cross over that line again. I've kept with my "chicken/lettuce and whatever else isn't full of carbs/sugars" lunch. But it's become a bit easier. If there's nothing that I can have at any of the cooking stations, I can make a plate of lettuce, and the chef there will grill me up some chicken, and sometimes bacon. It's like having my own mediocre meal chef. Matter of fact, maybe I'll start my own show on the food network, called "Mediocre Chef" and I'll go from office to office, cooking meals that aren't that great. Like chicken with a basil leaf dropped on it after it's cooked in no spices, and just a touch overdone. It'll be good enough where people won't complain, but not quite good enough for any type of positive feedback. "Up next, fried hamburger on a plate." I can hear the money machine starting up right now.
I've decided not to ever ask for questions again, and just be content with the fact that people take time out of their days to read my nonsensical ramblings about trying not to be a fat mess. Speaking of fat mess, I believe I may have dropped down a couple categories in the "fatty meter". Everyone knows what the fatty meter is.
Chubby
Husky
Fat
Real Fat
Holy crap
Skin meshed with the couch that you haven't left in 8 years.
I've gone from "Holy crap" to somewhere between "Fat" and "Real fat" BUT not getting those, "How does he NOT smell like shit" looks is quite refreshing. By the time my wedding comes around, with any luck, and if I keep at it, I'll be right back at my high school size...."Husky".
So, with 2 months down, and a little less than 4 to go, I feel I'm making progress. Yesterday was about 80 degrees with high humidity, so it was a good guage of how hot the summer's going to be. Now I understand that it's going to be much hotter at times, but it was helpful. I now realize I need more 'airy' shorts, and a sleeveless 'tough guy' shirt if I'm going to last during the hot days. Also, if I'm at where I'd like to be at, come September, I will be playing semi-pro football. No excuses, if I can quit cigarettes, and drop hundreds of pounds, I can join some raggedy football team and stick to it. So ya, that's it, come September this new husband will be reborn in the glow of semi-professional American Football. See you in a week.
