Cutting out the Fat (and the public showers)

Well, it seems like I've been absent from this blog for another extended period of time.


"Uh, yeah, like a year-and-a-half!"

Okay, okay. I just said I've been absent. Do you want me to say I've been lazy?


"You should probably just be honest with us."


Fine. I have a few draft posts from various times, but I never got around to publishing them because I'm lazy. So here's a few excerpts from my two drafts I haven't completed (and probably won't) that I wanted to share with you so you know that I haven't completely forgotten about you, my faithful readers (all 6 of you):

From the 22 February 2011 draft entitled "You dirty little gym bag, you":

Well you all know about the change in my routine: I wake up around 4:15-4:30a.m. to drive to Al's house to workout in the neighborhood activity center (did I mention it was free? It's free). I'll tell you about the workout in a moment; in order to get to where I need to be in the morning, there is some preparation which must happen before I leave the house.

So before I go to bed each (gym) night, I put my Dopp kit, a pair of work shoes, pants, socks, underwear, a work shirt, a body and hair shampoo bottle, a washrag, and a towel. I typically put in an MP3 player—either an iPod shuffle or my MS Zune (yes, I'm like the 4th person who has one)—and a couple of earbud sets. I have to make sure to remember the stuff I usually cram into my pockets each day as well.

Ever since the 4th grade, when I was amazed that a friend of mine just happened to have a little pocket knife with him when I needed it, and later when he pulled out a lint-free cloth to clean his glasses, and even later when he repaired his chapped lips with a tube of lip balm all from the contents of his pockets.  It was then I realized that it was cool to have what you needed with you instead of waiting or wanting.

Since that time, I have loaded my pockets with the necessities of middle school, high school, college, the business world, and any other situations in which I might find myself. I usually take the items in my pocket for granted, but it is always amusing when others watch me get ready for the day by filling my pockets. 

I'm not entirely sure where I was going on this steadily sinking ship, here, but I believe I was getting around to the fact that since my prior post I found it necessary, in actually working out, to have a workout-related container, a "bag," if you will; and I found out how this "bag,"  of which I speak, would accumulate items; which items, if left unchecked for extended periods, would become less-than-tolerable, in the olfactory sense.  

So that seems to be the entirety of the post quoted above and, obviously, I never quite got around to completing this editorial detritus. The next portion (I say "portion" as if I'm not simply copying and pasting the entire draft here) comes from a little later in the year . . . yes . . . 2011.  Here you go:

From the 4th of July 2011 draft entitled "Monteagle workout":Well, again it's been some time since I told you about my road to fitness, and for that I sincerely apologize. However, I like to justify my actions by saying what I lack in quantity, I make up for in quality. It's not remotely true, but I just like saying it.

Notice how I begin the post with a detracting statement to separate your mind from the fact that you feel emotionally abandoned by my lack of attention to this blog. As a side note: if any of you really are feeling this way, there . . . might be . . . another issue you should discuss with someone else--perhaps a professional psychiatrist, a priest, or a bartender--as examples. But the fact of the matter still remains: I'm lazy and I didn't get around to finishing the post.  Sure, you can plainly see my intentions were well-meaning.  I mean, I did, in fact, begin a relatively lame paragraph, however, it is extremely difficult to tell from this post (or any others that are contained within this blog, I might add) exactly what "quality" I expect others to draw from this, as I am completely unable to guess what I was thinking when I wrote the title to this draft, and why I was too lazy to complete it (or the one before it) and publish it.

Herein lies the crux of the weight loss (or lack thereof) cycle, if you will. The chubbier you are, the less you feel like working out/being active/etc., thus exacerbating the initial laziness problem you had in the first place; while skinny people seem to have more energy to jump up, turn around, and pick a bail of cotton (or whatever they do in your neck of the woods).

To get right down to it,  . . . it's someone else's fault, not mine. 

"OH MY STARS, EMIL! Man up and take some responsibility for YOUR actions! What country do you think you live in . . .  the USA?"

Whoa! Let's not bring politics into this!

"Sorry."

Anyway, you're right. No one made me stop working out. Did I feel better when I was working out over a year ago? Yes. Did some things happen which contributed to my desire to quit working out? Yes. Would I be comfortable divulging these events to the reader so one might be able to make his own determination about the extent of my laziness? Uh . . . I guess. 

"Well then, get to it, porky"

Alright. Remember in the last post, I was waking up every morning around 4:30am and there was some concern about how long I would be able to keep up such a routine? Well, I wasn't really having a problem with the routine as much as I was having difficulty driving 30 minutes to, my buddy, Al's house to arrive by our scheduled 5am workout time. And the real problem was that Al was often having trouble meeting me there by 5 also to let me into the neighborhood clubhouse/gym. Since Al was carpooling with me, I often didn't get off at the correct time for him, which seemed to facilitate his need to purchase his own car, thus eliminating the need for him to ride with me. Since I saw all this coming, I went ahead and purchased a yearly gym membership at my wife's workout location of choice: BödyPlex. However, when Al began driving himself and subtly uninvited me to his neighborhood gym, I tried the 5am routine at BödyPlex to see how it would work out (no pun intended). Needless to say, it really didn't. I mean, the equipment was much nicer in the paid gym . . . but the real problem . . . is completing the workout and hitting the showers. 

"What do you mean, 'problem?'"

Well, what I mean is, that I simply have a modesty problem. I don't like to be naked in a room with strangers. Call me crazy. And even though, this was pretty much the first workout of the morning, and there were very few people even in the gym showers to start with, the neighborhood gym NEVER had anyone else in the showers, because everyone who uses the neighborhood gym LIVES in the neighborhood!!! Why would you shower in the neighborhood gym, when you can walk home 1 block and shower in a place where your toiletries are spread all over the vanity?

"So you're saying you believe you're different than every other naked person in the gym showers, or is it that you don't want other people looking at your small penis?"

What?!? No. Well, . . . not entirely. I'm just self-conscious about it. I don't really like seeing other naked men, and I'm sure for the most part they feel the same way about me, but I find that after I'm subjected, always against my will, to the naked male form, I form some random judgement about that person based on their posture or a birthmark or something like that. I just don't want to be considered for anyone else's random judgement of my nakedness, etc.

"I feel like you're skirting the real issue at hand."

Really? Okay, well . . . since I've stopped working out, and my lifestyle has once again become sedentary, I've picked back up a bit. Perhaps it's time for this blog to become more about what's going on in my life than how heavy I actually am.

"Real nice job naming the blog WeFat to WiiFit. We've been missing the Wii part for some time now. It would seem you have yet another excuse for cutting the Fat part out now. Great job!"

Um, . . . I'm pretty sure I'm no longer going to invite you to be a part of my blog anymore!

"Shucks."

The Elliptical, huh? Maybe I'll try that!

Does it ever seem like no matter what you do, you can never seem to get ahead?


"Why do you ask, Emil?"


Well, I'll tell you why: because it stinking seems like no matter what I do, I can never seem to get ahead—that's why! I think like 213lbs. is apparently the magic weight of a guy whose metabolism and incredibly slow lifestyle is like mine.


"Maybe you should do something. You know, like go to the gym or something like that."


Oh yeah, Dr. Freud? Well why don't YOU go to the gym so you can get up out of my face!  I tried that. It's like I'm Mr. Cardio-death out there among the sweaty skinny people.  You know, maybe being an extra on Richard Simmon's workout video would make me feel better, but it's probably really a bunch of extra trim, buff folks in fat suits and Velour workout outfits.


I guess consistency is probably the best way to get ahead, but the problem is that nothing is consistent around here. Oftentimes the work schedule keeps me out until 8pm, rarely, but sometimes later. You know, you get hungry after climbing under desks or behind furniture.


Perhaps what I need is a nice quiet gym where there are no people staring and wondering at the red-faced flabby guy in the corner clutching his heart. 


"Whoa! It sounds like you'd have to wake up pretty early in order to pull off something like, right?"


Yeah, I guess you're right. But please allow me to digress from my self-induced dialogue to tell you a little story of a fellow I used to ride the bus with back in elementary school in Valdosta, GA. One Mr. Herndon Alexander Walker (my good buddy, Al) also started to bulk up a bit after high-school and during college, and at one time, weighed about 200Lbs, like me. One of the last times I saw him though, he was incredibly thin and looked as if he were about to board the old blue-bird again with me. 


When I asked him how he managed to get so thin, he replied that he went to bed very early and thus woke up early enough to do a workout every morning in his neighborhood activity center's gym. And do you know what? He suggested that I join him. 


Now, I know what you're thinking: "Emil, . . . please. You've been missing in this blog for almost 9 months. It seems highly unlikely that you would be willing to commit to such a drastic change to your lethargic lifestyle."


And I have to say, you're absolutely right! This was about 4 years ago when he asked me . . . long before this little blog was even thought up. But in the middle of the year, I got a new job working on computers for a company in downtown Atlanta, across from the CNN center and Centennial Olympic Park. I'll bet you can probably guess where my good pal, Al, works, right? If you said CNN, you're dead on the money. So I had lunch with him last Wednesday. And he offered, yet again, his neighborhood gym for free! He even mentioned that we might be able to carpool together some days.


Now remember, Marci's lost about 30Lbs. going to her gym, and she's even won a free year for signing up 5 people, anyway, I spoke to her and she thought it would be a great idea for me to wake up and workout with Al. So I did, the very next morning.

This is an elliptical machine. I've seen them before, but never had the pleasure of having a heart-attack on one . . . until now (not really). This was the machine that got me started with my first workout. I was on it clipping at a very slow and steady pace when Al suggested (sensing I might be moving too slowly to burn fat) that I should get my heart-rate up to at least 120bpm in order to burn fat. He apparently could tell that I was trying to take it easy on my first day. So when I looked down at the heart-rate monitor and asked him if 180bpm was better at burning fat, he replied—after asking incredulously if I was joking since I had only been on the thing for 2 minutes—that I should definitely slow down, so my heart wouldn't explode on the very first day of working out.

I decided that waking EVERY day at 4:30a.m. was going to be a little tricky for me, but I committed to 2 days a week, Tuesday and Thursday. Today was my second day in the gym, and all in all, I'd say it went pretty well. I guess you'll have to stay tuned to find out how I'm doing, finally.

By the way, I haven't thrown-up yet, so I think i'm doing pretty well, and I weigh 209Lbs. now and have broken through my 213Lb. barrier. So, I guess you were right . . . going to the gym wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Told you so!"

Shut up!

Get In Shape By Summer

Do you want to get in shape by summer? I know I do. But I'm not so sure about looking like the dude in the "Get In Shape By Summer" ad.

Have you seen this guy? He's all over the web right now. "Increase Strength. Improve Endurance. Speed up Recovery." the ad says. Recovery from what exactly? Do I really want to sign up for something from which I may have to hope for a "speedy recovery"?

Take a close look at the above picture. Now, compare that to what's published in the American Journal of Medicine regarding the physical evidence of anabolic steroids:

1. Pronounced or ridged brow

2. Early onset of male-patterned baldness

3. Unnatural muscle mass

4. Significant shrinkage of the testicles

I'll let you draw the conclusions. But if you were to compare the picture to the outward evidences of steroid abuse, it's easy to result in the following:

1. Pronounced or ridged brow: YES

2. Baldness: YES

3. Muscle Mass: YES - look at his forearm for pete's sake. It's bigger than Oprah's thigh.

3. Testicular shrinkage: UNKNOWN However, look at his facial expression. What might it be telling us?

I'm thinking I'm gonna pass on the "FORCE FACTOR" product.

So, why did I write a post about this freak? To distract you from the fact that I have made zero progress in my weight loss efforts the past few weeks.

Why no progress? Mainly because I've been busy "recovering" from my two pound loss that I wrote about in my previous post.

Peer Pressure vs. Willpower

I have a Google Apps homepage (kind of like iGoogle), which has some quotes of the day on it. Today's quote is:

It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets.

  - Voltaire

Sometimes a quote will jump out at me because of the humor or inherently deep comment on society, or in this case, my inability to want (which means "will" in German) to lose weight. Now don't get me wrong, I do want to lose weight, but I apparently don't want to bad enough yet. I'll explain in a moment. Back to the quote. This particular quote by Voltaire justifies the negative/forbidden action of killing/murder, unless the murderer is in a group (an army, if you will) murdering en masse. Thus it is when trying to lose weight: everyone knows it's bad for you to eat such heavy foods like massive bean burritos, Italian food of any kind, hot dogs and burgers, and pizza, etc. But it is even worse for you when you wash those terrible, yet delicious, foods down with a couple of cherry Dr. Peppers.

The problem I'm having is juggling the everyday hubbub of life: job, school, home, piano lessons, church, etc. with losing weight and trying to appease my wife's desire to have an "experience" every time she eats (you know, I guess she figures if you have to eat stuff to stay alive, why not make the stuff you eat taste great—and I agree with her), and although it's not impossible, it certainly is tiring.

Up until recently, it had been some time since Marci and I have been able to go out on a proper date night, but a couple of weeks ago, we did a double-date with some friends of ours. We were taking our friends out before they had their baby. We went to a great Italian restaurant in Smyrna, GA called Scalini's. Scalini's is famous, not only for their incredibly scrumptious Italian food, but also for their Eggplant Parmigiana baby club.

We decided after dinner instead of ordering some delicacy off the dessert menu, we would venture out to the Marietta Diner for our pièce de résistance. I seriously would love to be able to show you a picture right now, but I cannot bring myself to select only one of the myriad of cakes/pies available, so this link will have to suffice. 

The whole going out to eat deal is a rough one, since you want to get your money's worth; after all, it's not everyday you pay a babysitter to watch your children tear up your house while you get to put that horrible thought on hold for 3 hours while eating out or catching a movie, so one had better make the best of it. Eat the best foods. See the best sights. Do the best things. It's no wonder one comes home 5 pounds greater than when one left. Now, let's put a couple of those nights together. I took Marci out to a movie last week also.  We didn't have time to eat and watch, so we skimped on the meal by ordering pizza for the kids to eat while we were gone. We ordered two pizzas for them. We dropped one of the pizzas off, but wound up eating the second pizza between us in the car on the way to the cinema, you know, to save time.

The next night, conditions were right for another date, so we did the Japanese steak house with some friends who invited themselves along (we didn't mind too much). Of course, we had the Cold Stone Creamery for dessert that night. I also simply had to purchase a 12 pack of cherry Dr. Pepper, and I've been savoring them one or two per day for the past couple of days.

I haven't bothered weighing myself, as I am not ready for such disappointment, but I still haven't totally given up, either. It just seems I have to use my seemingly non-existent willpower to overcome the magnanimous peer-pressure to eat the largest deep-fried something whilst enjoying a meal with friends.

It is tough.

Superfluous Umlaut, Anyone?

It would seem that some people are impressed by anything. I mean, two pounds? C'mon. I'm pretty sure I lost two pounds before I gained 4 back. As a matter of fact, Marci, (remember her? -- The lady who lost 30 pounds? She also happens to be my wife and, if not my inspiration, definitely my motivation for wanting to lose weight in the first place--"I know the husband I married is somewhere hidden inside this fat person," or as she's shaking me by the sides, "c'mere and give me a hug, oh, these handles really DO work"--if that ain't motivation, I don't know what is.) invited me to her gym recently. A little place in uptown Hiram, GA called Bödyplex-Fitness Adventure.

Quick language lesson here: an umlaut /oom-lout/ is a diacritical mark which, in German, at least, represents a diphthong with two vowels sort of mashed together, the first vowel being the one that has the diacritical umlaut over it, and the last vowel being a long "e" sound (or an "i" in German). The way to get the correct sound is by playing the Sesame Street game where the two faces were on the screen and each one would say a different half of a word until they put them together, remember? Only, you do that with the vowels. So an umlauted "a" (I can only speak for the German language) sounds like a long "a" in English, just not quite as harsh, instead of the "ah" sound as in the English word "palm." Okay, recess. Now, if you are wondering, as I am, why the umlauted "o" in bödyplex? I have no idea. Why the umlauts in Mötley Crüe? Just to add that European flair? Probably. 

Anyway, I decided to go with Marci to the gym since it was "launch week" which means you can get in and go to classes free of charge for the week. Here is another picture I took of Marci at "her" gym:

This particular night, we were waiting in line for "bödy pump" or weightlifting class. Notice the smug look on her face. She's waiting for me to die in front of her as we "work out." Seeing this picture also makes me want to point out a few more things--notice the gentleman in the tank-top behind the piece of equipment in the right of the photo--it looks like workout clothing, right? How about the lady in the far right of the picture--again, workout clothing. The point I'm making here is that I have, oh how should I put this, . . . zero, that's right,  workout clothes. Behind the camera, I'm wearing a Trogdor T-shirt

and blue-jean shorts--they're baggy carpenter-like shorts--and a look of trepidation and intimidation. I wasn't too keen on being the fat guy in the weightlifting class. But I must admit, after we were allowed entry into the class, it was pretty interesting. If you've been to a gym class before, you'll be familiar with the following description, but you might not be familiar with the type of people that "instruct" these classes.

I have a friend whose wife is pregnant, she finally had her baby on the 18th of Feb. Pregnant people exude a sweetness about them; a glow, if you will. It was only slightly frightening to see this petite, glowing, pregnant instructor throwing weights around and shouting what to do with your barbell 8 more times.

Here she is in the picture above. The weight she is holding in her sequinned-gloved hand (because we were lifting to Billie Jean, of course) is obscuring her "bump," but I assure you it is quite visible when she is standing--Marci informs me she is 32-weeks along. I was beginning to wonder if she should be hefting all that weight around in her pregnant state, but you'll be pleased to know no premature babies were born while I was exercising, and I could tell she was in great shape even in her pregnant state, as opposed to me, who could barely hold the camera still after such a rigorous workout. Preggers is behind the gent in the foreground of this photo (the fella is obscuring her body, but not her pregnanty-ness).

Next up is the very fit, Renee. You can see her on the front of the stage to the left of the guy above (his right). This, by the way, is still Billie Jean, I had been going strong for about 40 minutes up to this point and it was a great excuse to break away from the routine to document the class for you awesome folks (and I couldn't breathe)! All the lovely ladies on stage were very muscular and toned, and I would not want to try to steal a purse from one of them in a dark alley (not that I'm into that). 

It was kind of like being at a concert where you had to work out for the show. Definitely fun, especially since I didn't throw-up.

Marci and I were showing our stuff over here in the corner (no, that is not my bedroom with the mirrors, sicko!). I was pretty pleased to be done with the class, and I have not been back. But how is someone of my size and girth supposed to want to do this every day? I mean, all working out seems to make me do is want to lie down and eat something that "really satisfies" and gain every bit of weight I sweat off back on again--and then some. I didn't even want to go with Marci to the gym in the first place, but when I was surrounded by chicks in spandex, which I won't lie, I didn't necessarily mind, I wasn't going to let the room full of skinny people see me collapsed against the mirrors from fatigue. Even Marci thinks I may have shown off a little bit.


The point of all this working out stuff is a little lost on me at the moment, but Perhaps I should give Bödyplex--Fitness Adventure (does the umlaut really pull in that much more business?) another go. I jüst wïsh wörking öut wäsn't süch ä päin ïn thë bütt, lëgs, ärms, ëtc.  . . . Stupid umlauts!

I am officially less fat

Starting Weight (Jan 1): 246 lbs

Current Weight (Feb 11): 244 lbs

I am happy to announce that I have lost TWO pounds! For those of you who think that two pounds is not a big deal, think of this:

The number TWO is HUGE. For example:

1. The Big Mac has TWO patties

2. The Oreo has TWO sides

3. The Grand Slam breakfast at Denny's includes TWO eggs and TWO sausage links

You get the idea. I am hungry. To lose those two pounds, I have applied basic logic that has worked over centuries of weight fluctuation: burn more calories than I take in. So, I have upped my calorie expense by doing the following as my work-out routine:

1. Walk 30 minutes on Treadmill

2. Bench press

3. Military press

4. Dips

5. Lat pull-downs

6. Curls

The problem is, that I've only done that three times in the past two weeks. Not exactly what you'd call consistent. So I have stopped eating as much as I used to. That hurts. I am used to munching throughout the day. For the first time in my life I have uttered these words to my wife the other day:

"I am ready to try rice cakes."

No real man ever says this. In the dawn of time when the cave man went out and slaughtered his meals, he never paused during eating the charred carcass of whatever and grunted to his buddy "Hey Neal, I'm thinking rice cakes would be better for my heart, not to mention my wasteline." I dunno...I could be wrong about that but it doesn't seem right.

Yum.

The other thing I'm trying to do is to cut down on so much diet soda. Man, I have been spending so much money on Diet Pepsi over the years that you'd think I would have stacks of Pepsi stock options in addition to my caramel stained liver. But I recently read a startling report that diet colas can actually INCREASE belly fat due to several reasons. I have a hard time believing that, but I do recognize that I'm less likely to have a snack when I don't have any decent fizzy beverage with which to wash it down. What am I supposed to do? Eat chips in front of the TV with milk? I know, I know - water is the answer. Water has always been the answer. I'm just not there yet where water is a beverage of pleasure rather than something I drink when there's nothing else to drink.

Anyway, I'm super excited I'm less fat now. I think.

Too Good To Be True

Have you ever seen or heard about something so good, it simply cannot be true? I recently received an email from Dr. Godfrey Ugo in Nigeria who is offering me a share in the fortune of "a foreign customer who died along with his entire family in a Concord plane crash in the year 2000 in Paris." I'm thinking it sounds a little too good to be true. Well, last week I also heard about something so amazingly good, it can't possibly be true, but it is!

How sweet is that? No pun intended! What I especially like about this is the fact that, according to the Los Angeles times, this is no regular cookie. Isn't that slightly disappointing? I apparently am not smart enough to eat a cookie (a special one) and skip a meal without paying "less than $5 a day" to the Hollywood diet people.

On a somewhat lighter note, I was working at a client's home today hooking up a wireless router for her, and I mentioned the wf-wf.com blog you are now reading. I pointed her browser to the URL, which by the way, is when I noticed that Vince had once again decided to grace us with his post of the month (nudge, nudge, wink, wink), and I showed her my introductory post. She was commenting on how I didn't look fat in the first picture and I only looked fat with my green shirt on because of the way I was standing.

 

Well, that's nice of you to mention, but the cold, hard truth is, I am fat. The lady was very nice, and this has nothing to do with anything, but I wanted to show off this lady's pets: 4-5 cats, 2 dogs, and Neo, the pot-bellied pig. He's "the one," she said. She had a pig door so Neo could come and go as he pleased. When the pig rests in the sun, the lady says he is "bakin'." (or bacon, one of the two). Here he is:

Anyway, the good news is, that I have lost a few pounds. Sound too good to be true? It is. I got all the way down to 206lbs. before my wife invited me after work to a get-together with some friends out at Henry's Louisiana Grill in Acworth, GA. It was raining this past Friday and I was working later than I wanted.  I found a parking spot in downtown Acworth, and since I got turned around circling the block for parking, I walked the wrong way down the block to get to the restaurant where the party was waiting to be seated. A woman was exiting her car with an umbrella and as she mounted the curb, I inquired of her if she knew the way to Henry's.  She smiled and said I could follow her. We chit-chatted a bit as we walked, and before we parted, her last words to me were, be sure to get the Chicken Ooh La La. I mentioned this as we were being seated at the table, and I didn't have to persuade anyone, as they already knew about the apparently famous dish.

According to Henry's website, the Ooh La La is: Named one of the top 50 dishes to drive for by the Atlanta Journal Constitution! Succulent oysters, shrimp or crawfish - flash fried and tossed with Tasso, spinach and roasted garlic in Henry's spicy cream sauce. Served over angel hair pasta ... OOH LA LA!! To shorten this story a bit, when I arrived home, I think I weighed about 213lbs. It was an extremely heavy dinner.  I like the part about it being "flash fried." Awesome! In this case, it was too good to be good for ya.  

I haven't forgotten about the P90X, but this pesky laziness keeps interrupting my otherwise productive day. Oh well. I'll keep trying.