Mostly Semantics

Oh man, what a day. So many things, exciting things, to relate! Exciting and also marginally embarrassing. Let’s start there.

So, I needed some compression shorts. I’ve been needing them for awhile. I can’t really run for a long time or even walk, really, for more than a couple of miles, without incapacitating myself. Because, see, my thighs, they’re all fat and they chafe. This is, I believe, why compression shorts were invented, no? For the chafing? (Tweaks says she’s never heard this term before, and that she just calls them spandex. So in case you were wondering, that’s what I mean.)

So I tried to order these shorts a couple of weeks ago on amazon. I ordered bike shorts, because I thought that’s what I wanted. Turns out they have like a fucking bike seat sewn into them. Great, there’s $30 down the drain. I should have just ordered more right then, but I actually didn’t notice this until earlier this week. I knew I wanted them before I went on vacation, so I could, y’know, exercise. No amount of searching through amazon would turn up a pair via prime, though. What the fuck, Amazon? I am not paying as much for shipping as I do for the shorts, I mean, I have my pride.

Or rather, did. Today I swallowed it and went to Modell’s to buy some. (Ok that’s a lie - yesterday I swallowed it and went into the fancy-schmancy Georgetown Running place that’s more convenient. They didn’t even have 2xl. It was embarrassing.) So Modell’s - I look around for awhile and find 2xls, but really I want/need 3. I wear 3xl shirts, and the 2xl has a waist size listed, and it is smaller than my pants. So I had to ask the staff. God I hate that. “Excuse me, do you have any fat person clothes? My fat body revolts when I ask it to do, well, virtually anything, and so I prostrate myself before you in search of technology that can alleviate my suffering.” “Sorry, fatty, maybe if you weren’t so fat we could help but you’re beyond the pale. In summary, go to hell.” “Fuck you, let me try on every single pair of 2xls you have. There, now they’ve all got eau de my balls on them. Fuck I hate you.” Anyway, spandex is stretchy and 2xls work. Actually they work like a charm.

So I get home from work at a reasonable hour. I lugged wii fit, which finally came today, and is surprisingly heavy, along with me, plus my Modell’s purchases. So, I was out of lemons and lemon juice, and on the way home I told CV I was considering just starting in on the OJ that night a little early, since I wasn’t going to stop and get more lemons. CV - of all people, little, pessimistic, discouraging h8r CV, who laughed in my face when I told him I’d do this and said I’d never even start it - told me not to start the OJ yet. I was so close, right!? And he was right - I can and did just survive on water. Thanks, CV!

So it’s my last day, and it’s like my gastrointestinal tract knew it and decided to reward my persistence - my first non-phantom evening poop! It wasn’t even all liquid! I swear, it was a mushy little lump of PURE TOXIN. See you in hell, toxins!

I’m feeling good. Good enough that I want to go back to the zoo scale, where I had weighed in at (this is painful, brace yourself) 370 before this all started. Three fucking seventy. Anyway, considering the state of my awful, awful scale, I thought it was a good idea to go back there for a measure of progress. 345! I know it still means I’m morbidly obese, but on the other hand, 25 pounds! eh!? Whatdya have to say to that, Professor Science (Ian)? I thought I could only lose 1 pound per day- what’s up? How did that happen?

The other thing is that I had my first meeting with a personal trainer. Tweaks’s actually. That was after I walked all the way through the zoo, up and around and back home (2 and a half miles according to gmaps pedometer - burning more calories than I took in right there). The trainer called and came over and proceeded to work me out for an hour. I sat down in my chair afterwards and haven’t really moved since. I’m… spent. Like, it took me two hours or so just to get up the energy to write a fucking blogpost. Turns out, tremendously out of shape. But it was good, I worked hard, got a nice sweat going, feel like I worked out all my muscles, learned some things I can do on my own. Definitely a good start. I think that relationship will work out.

I had this plan worked out in my head as I was walking through the zoo that I was going to set up the wii fit after I had my trainer session and stand on the balance board and get a picture of the screen saying “sorry but you are too fat for this toy” with, y’know, a simple ‘ohhh, fail’ type caption. Some combination of all of the above has made me relent on that front. I didn’t quite make my goal, it’s true. Honestly, to lose 40 pounds (I didn’t realize at the time that’s what I’d require) in less than a month was probably a *skoch* ambitious. That said, 25 is ok. I can live with it. And I still have my goal - and a plan to get to it. Actually a lot of plans, but I have a plan to develop a plan, and enough time to get there from here. Overall, I think the lemonade diet was a pretty decent head start, and I am seriously committed more than I’ve ever been to working on this. So… probably no more crazy diet blogging. I know, I know. Look forward to another poorly-written, overly long yet uninformative concert review in like three weeks. Maybe. ’til then, thanks for bearing with me and for all the support and comments, and, y’know, I will do my best to publish updates as to my progress as I see fit.

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