Posts Tagged ‘weight loss’

As I sat in the doctor’s office this afternoon, the dulcet tones of Bryan Adams crooned out through hidden speakers. As Mr. Adams (who has been apologized for on multiple occasions by the Canadian government) was telling everyone in the waiting room that everything he did, he did for us, it dawned on me that this is what I really want to avoid. Spending a goodly chunk of my life waiting in doctors offices, waiting to die. (As an aside, it’s not a good thing if you’re the mayor of a doctor’s office on foursquare and you don’t work there.)

This was a simple podiatrist appointment, or as I call it, my pedicure. Not too bad in the realm of doctor visits… he normally trims up the toenails, gives the feet a once over and that’s about it. Not really traumatic. But on the road of life, it’s a pothole. This is the main reason why I’m leaning toward an operation. Am I excited about going under general anesthesia? Hell no. (Granted, Versed is some good stuff… ask The Management. She witnessed me go from a ball of quivering nerves to singing a medley of 70’s hits in a few minutes)

I’m already getting a pet peeve about the bariatric surgery world. The peeve is people who think it’s the easy way out. There’s nothing easy about this process. It’s six months of work, basically relearning how to eat, relearning how to live, actually, and there’s a helluva lot of sacrifices to be made. The surgery is simply a means to an end. It’s not the end itself. The only way this operation will work is if I’m all in. I can’t do this half-assed, otherwise I’m right back asking for a seatbelt extender on the plane and being forced to buy a second seat on Southwest Airlines. No thanks.

I don’t want to be the fat guy just bouncing from doctor to doctor waiting to die. That’s not living. That’s an existence, and not a particularly good one. I can do better.

Happy Wednesday to all the fine reader (sic) out there!

It’s a typical day here. Managed to get some exercise… I edged the lawn, trimmed the Lilac Bush from Hell, sprayed the lawn and even managed to cook up some dinner. That’s something I’ve been lacking on. It’s not that I mind cooking… I actually rather enjoy it. I’ve just been lazy. Maybe lazy isn’t the correct word. Probably better to say unmotivated. That’s always a problem when my weight increases. I get less motivated to do things that I normally enjoy, then I get more despondent about the stuff that’s not getting done, making me go running for the food… It’s like the character Fat Bastard says in Austin Powers, “… I eat because I’m unhappy, and I’m unhappy because I eat.” There’s a lot of truth found in jest.

Last night I managed to cull the freezers. It’s amazing what you can find in the dark frozen recesses of the freezer. We are guilty of forgetting what we have in there, buying more of whatever it is, then using that first and so on until you find a chicken breast that was dated sometime in 2004, which means it was three years old WHEN WE MOVED IT! That’s a little extreme, but when I found it, it was so freezer burned that it looked like a mummy. I wound up ditching a lot of stuff that was three+ years old ranging from soup to chicken to fish portions. There was fresh pasta that was freezer burned, frozen juice with more ice in it than a margarita.

Now you’re probably asking yourselves why. Why doesn’t he cook? Why doesn’t he keep better track of what’s in the freezer? That’s a pretty good question. As you know, it’s The Management and myself in Chez Brian. Both of us are decent cooks, we just tend to eat out. Anyone can tell you how bad that is for your health and weight. We reason it away… for The Management she likes to go out with some of her friends to catch up on the latest. For me, I guess I’m embarrassed that there are only two seats in our break area that I can fit into.

Getting to the title of today’s post, upon leaving Pimlico on Saturday, Baltimore police were routing traffic into a not-so-nice area of Baltimore


(which many of you who have been there know is pretty much anywhere between the Beltway and the Inner Harbor). This, compounded with GPS confusion, took us past a staggering array of establishments advertising fried chicken and lake trout. In one notable instance, the chicken and trout place was also selling beauty supplies. Sadly, I don’t have a picture of that sign, but I do have a great picture of another sign.

So, back to the original point. I’m going to do my best to bring my meals from home. If I go through with the surgery, I’m going to have to revamp my eating habits, so might as well get ahead of it now.

I’ll leave you with something else from Fat Bastard.

Of course I’m not happy! Look at me, I’m a big fat slob.

Not for long, self… not for long.

Before anyone asks, General Malaise is not the Supreme Allied Commander in Europe. General Malaise is a condition that The Management and I suffer from. Part of it is depression-related, part of it is simply just feeling crappy. General Malaise shows up when you have a pile of stuff to do and you wind up sitting and staring at the stuff to be done without actually doing any of it.

The time has come to fight General Malaise. He is a bad bad man (or woman) and he is evil.

I’m not saying that you should never have a lazy day where you just need to chill. Far from it. It’s that you can’t let the lazy days rule your life. If everyone felt that way, we’d never get anything done. We’d be sitting back, waiting for it to happen.

It’s OK to have down days. Not everyone can be happy 100% of the time, unless they are using some seriously good drugs. Even the happiest people I come in contact with have bad days from time to time. The key is to keep them in balance.

On the weight loss front, I’ve managed to enter all the upcoming appointments into the ball and chain (or the iPrecious). I find that while I’m looking forward to seeing the dietician and the exercise guys, I’m really looking forward to seeing the psychologist. I’ve been thinking for some time that it might do me some good to talk to a professional and maybe figure out why I have this compulsion for Cheetos and other carb-y goodness. I realize that one session won’t totally unravel 41 years of bad behavior, but maybe it can point me in the right direction.

Won’t be writing much this weekend. We’ll be taking our place along the rail for the Preakness on Saturday. Maybe I will do some wardrobe commentary because this is a great place to watch people.

Have a great day!