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.

I hate belts

So last night as I was getting ready for bed, I naturally removed my belt from my jeans. It's a nice brown leather belt that I purchased in Tallahassee, Florida years ago from a now defunct store called "The County Seat". I stretched the belt from left hand to right hand and looked at the little clasp holes at the non-buckle end of the belt. There are eight holes in total. I noticed there are permanent crease marks worn into the belt next to several of the holes indicating use.

The sad thing? The latest crease is on the second to last hole - or the seventh hole to be exact. What that means is, I get any fatter and I'm maxing that belt out on the last, or eighth hole. There's an unwritten fashion rule that says "If you're anywhere near the last two holes of the belt, you need to upgrade. Fatty."

The really sad thing? Is that when you look at the belt, you can tell that at one point in my life, I was wearing that bad boy on the FIRST HOLE. Now, each hole is approximately an inch apart. So for those of you with amazing deduction skills, YES, that means that I indeed have grown six inches around my waist since I first bought that belt. I bought it in 1996 when I was 26. Now, I'm 39. Thirteen years I've had that belt. So, if you're following along, that means that each year, I've expanded my gut by 1/2 inch. I currently wear a 38 in jeans. At my current fat-man rate, you can safely say that in ten more years I should be a 43 waist. In another ten years (if I survive that long), I should be pushing a size 50 waist. Good gosh. And in all actuality, in the 13 years I've owned this belt, my guess is that in the past four years I've gained at a faster rate than the previous 9 years before, which means at the current rate, I will reach that size 50 waist MUCH faster than the above calculations.

I will be forced to wear those powder-blue expandable jeans which for some reason never have back pockets (probably because the designers of fat-man jeans realize at that point, my chubby arm wouldn't be able to access anything in a back pocket of my big bubble butt anyway).

So what am I saying? Am I saying that I am on the road to suspenders? No. Am I saying that I will soon only be wearing sweat pants with my t-shirts tucked in? No.

I'm saying I will keep this belt. It will be a motivation marker for me. At the end of 2010, my goal is to be wearing that belt in the third hole - meaning four inches off my gut. In fact, I hope that at the end of 2010, I won't BE EVEN ABLE to refer my mansection (I mean midsection) as a "gut". I will then have made the transformation from using the word "GUT" to "ABS".

If I didn't need any further motivation, my wife, as I pointed out how the crease marks on the belt's holes have nearly reached the tip of the belt, said "Wow, it's like a growth chart!". Nice.

The bad thing is that it's been two weeks since my last post, and I haven't made any real progress. But that ends tomorrow! I plan to buy a weigh scale (our current one doesn't work) and start losing one pound a week. That's right: one pound a week. That will be my goal. It's as simple as that.

How? Well. I joined a gym. That will be the next story I post. For now, let's all revel in the thought that The County Seat, the store that sold me my belt of fatness in the first place, is out of business.

Karen Carpenter

So I saw a movie recently called Surrogates with Bruce Willis.

It takes place in the future after someone has built the technology to entirely recreate a robotic human shell that can be driven by a real human in a chair from a distance. The real humans create these surrogates to look like what they want to look like themselves. Kind of like choosing the extremely buff character in an online game even though you yourself are a 300lb. slob who gets winded going to the refrigerator. It goes to show that even in the future (as I know this movie was filmed and sent back from the future for our serious consideration to show us the error of our ways), people are still caught up with looking terrific and not doing much work to get that way. That being said, since I couldn't remember hurting in as many places as I have since my Wii Active session, I haven't subjected myself to such torture again. It makes me sad that working out seems such a chore.

Since I am having such a hard time with the Wii Active, I started asking around about the P90X.

I did some research online and found a few testimonials. Here is one that caught my eye:

"I've had P90X for a while but to be honest, kept it shelved until a few weeks ago. I was still going to the gym and could tell I had 'plateaued'. I'm on my 3rd week of P90 . . . Lean and am absolutely loving it. I was sore after the first workout which let me know right away that I wasn't getting everything I needed from my gym workouts. I can't wait to see the final results and I defintely plan on continuing with other Fitness Programs from Tony after my 90 day transformation."

–Lisa E Wilkins, Forest City, NC

This is a testimonial that is pretty much like all the rest, but this lady was already going to a gym. What caught my attention about this testimonial was the part where she said, "I was sore after the first workout." Have you ever seen those strongman competitions? My buddy competes in those things. He has the P90X and said, that I should make sure I have a bucket near me if I try to do the P90X. He said he threw-up after the very first workout. Hmmm . . . if I remember correctly, Karen Carpenter said that also, right? The point is, this guy is already bulky. He's just trying to turn what little fat he has gotten sitting behind a desk into muscle. This guy throws up after the very first P90X workout? Are you kidding me? Who does that to themselves? . . . um . . . OKAY! Fine. Stop looking at me in that tone of voice! I will do it. Just, . . . whatever . . . journalistic duty, blah, blah, blah. So . . . I guess I'll give the old P90X a try and report back to you next week.

Metabo-what?

I'm told that metabolism has a great deal to do with gaining or losing weight. What is this metabolism you say? What I like to do in this situation is break down the word into its different parts to help define it. Let's start with met which is Greek for the past tense of being introduced to someone else. Then we have abol which comes from the word abolish meaning get rid of. And lastly there is ism which is a suffix for following an ideology.  So the word metabolism means following the idea of getting rid of our recent acquaintances. Hmmm . . . that's why I'm really thinking that this metabolism cannot possibly have anything to do with weight loss/gain.

What makes much more sense to me is that weight loss/gain probably has something to do with age. You know, I used to be really skinny and people would often comment on how skinny I was. During this time, I could eat anything I wanted and not gain an ounce of weight. Now I started to notice a correlation of this age thing when I got into college. I was an exchange student with a British school, Sunderland Polytechnic (now Sunderland University in Northern England).

Sunderland University

While I was there for 6 months, I lost 15lbs. I was constantly trying to get to Germany, as German was my minor, and I finally found an exchange program with Sunderland to Carl von Ossietzky Universität in North Germany.

Carl von Ossietzky Universität

After I was there for about 3 months, I gained all 15lbs. back and continued to gain another 15 lbs., which made me heavier than I had been ever, I think I was about 160lbs. when I returned from the Vaterland.  . . .  I can tell you are amazed at my statistical knowledge and extremely scientific hypotheses, but wait . . . there's more:

I leveled back out upon my return to America to about a buck-55. And I stayed 155lbs. until I got married 3½ years later. I gained 15lbs. and stayed 170lbs. for 5 years only increasing weight when Marci got pregnant. (Actually I usually gained more  weight than she did during her pregnancies, but quickly lost the weight running around getting stuff for the new addition to the fam.) I started working in a slightly more sedentary job and that's when I noticed the weight start dripping on faster and faster. Now that I'm 38, I'm fat. By my calculations, age is the most important factor in gaining weight.

Aw, crap, that logic must be flawed somehow! I know lots of older people who are thin. Maybe the running around after childbirth has something to do with weightloss, but I can't be bothered to have more kids—this economy, it's rough with the baby wipes, etc. I'm gonna try to move more. Perhaps I'll do something on the Wii. I tried the WiiFit Plus, and there are some interesting things there in the games section, but the strength and yoga sections are kinda boring, they just want you to work out or stand in some weird position, crazy. Here I am being told by my Wii that I am "overweight!"  Notice my BMI is 29.76. WiiFit tells me that a "normal" BMI is around 22. That means I need to weigh the old 155lbs. I weighed in college.

I've got my work cut out for me.  Anyway, I've got this other game which, frankly, I don't know how they even try to call it a game.  It's more like torture with a Wii controller. It's called EA Sports Wii Active.

I tried the 1st workout routine of the 30-day challenge on hard—holy mackerel! I was sweating in places I've never sweat before. I'm sort of upset that I don't have an after picture for you, but I felt like I was going to throw up, and I couldn't work the camera. I certainly hope this gets easier, 'cause, DANG, I'm fat.

I am Vince and I am fat.

My name is Vince Vaughn and I am fat. There. I said it. That's tough to admit, you see, because all my life (well, except the last 6 years or so), I've been the tall skinny guy. The guy who people call bean-pole, tall-drink-of-water, tooth-pick, spindle-shanks, etc. etc. Now, people don't really call me anything. They just get out of my way at the buffet line. When I'm boarding a plane people watch me approach the seats in fear that I just might be the guy who is fated to sit next to them, pinning them tightly in their seats for the next few hours, swapping shoulder sweat with me. Ewww...

You may have noticed that my name is Vince Vaughn. If you don't know me, then I feel obligated to mention that, no, I am not the actor Vince Vaughn. Obviously I share his name. But there's more that he and I share: we're both 6'5". We both graduated in 1988. We both have 'A' as our middle initial. We both were once skinny and are now fat.

The Actor Before	The Actor Now

Me Before	Me Now

I know what you are thinking: Shameful. Disgusting. Humiliating. You are undoubtedly shaking your head in disappointment in the human race. Perhaps you are even making a mental note to forward this visual atrocity to your friends. Not that anyone admits to enjoy looking at a tragedy directly in the face, but there is something deep inside us that causes to slow and look at car accidents or waste hours on Youtube watching "EPIC FAILS".

This is no different.

"Hey," you say to your friend, "you gotta see how this guy let himself go. I mean, wow, it's like he's William Shatner only not as cool."

"Yeah," your friend replies "he's like a much taller Elizabeth Taylor."

You pause. "I don't get it."

"I'm just sayin'," says your friend "once thin, once on top of his game, and now he's wearing size 16 sequinned gowns and gobs of make up."

"That doesn't even apply here"

Pause.

"Ok, yeah, but imagine this guy in that get up. Would not that be horrific?"

Or something like that. The point is, I'm fat. And I have no business being fat. It's not like I'm cool because of it. I'm no Chris Farley. For one I've survived longer and for two, I've never danced with Patrick Swayze and now, tragically, I'll never get that opportunity.

Ok. So how fat am I? Well, I'm not Precious fat, but I am...well...Vince Vaughn fat. Ironically, it comes back to that. That's the best way to describe it.

If you're interested in the details, here they are. As of this writing (January 10, 2010) I:

• weigh 246 pounds (yikes! but in my defense remember I am 6'5")
• wear a 38 waste (fatty!)
• get winded walking back and forth to the fridge
• avoid tying my shoes because dang it! it's hard to bend down when your gut gets all squished up between your chest and thighs.

So over the next year, I will weigh in and report my stats. Hopefully they go down each week.

So that's why I'm here. Because I am embarking on the journey of going from Fat to Fit. And I'm chronicalling this journey with my buddy Emil. Why? Well, have you seen that guy? Yeah, he's a bit portly too. And because he's one of the best friends I've ever had. If you know him, you know how awesome it is to be with that dude. Annoying at times, sure, but loveable and fun? Completely! He's like your favorite dog who sometimes will chew apart your favorite chair. But you still love him, because really, there's no better dog out there, right?

Ok, enough of the lame metaphors. Basically, what I'm saying is. I am fat. But I will be THIN!

The Wanting

Have you ever really wanted something so badly, but it required something you were unwilling to sacrifice or something really hard you had to do or something you couldn't eat? You have? . . . Well, that really sucks. I'm glad, I'm not you. Anyway, I've really been working hard thinking of awesome ways to lose weight. I mean, there's the passive thing, where you sit on the couch eating chips while your muscles are getting a workout from the electrodes attached to your stomach (sadly, I think this really works). But aside from giving yourself shock therapy, I guess getting hooked on smack is the other easy way to lose the libras.



The problem I have with the electrode dealie-o is getting fitted for a new bikini. I mean it looks cool and all, but c'mon . . . electrodes? Who here saw Napoleon Dynamite and the "time machine"?


Exactly. I mean, who has the time to inflict such extreme pain upon themselves? I recently saw a quote from my hero from Finding Nemo:

I gotta work out. I keep saying it all the time. I keep saying I gotta start working out. It's been about two months since I've worked out. And I just don't have the time. Which uh..is odd. Because I have the time to go out to dinner. And uh..and watch tv. And get a bone density test. And uh.. try to figure out what my phone number spells in words.
- Ellen DeGeneres

You see? Dorie gets it. I can't be the only person who thinks about buying a gym membership, can I? I must have like 4 "fitness" related, uh . . . games on my Wii; there must be like 2 of them I haven't played. Someone recently said to me that I really didn't want to lose weight. Oh, yeah? Well that's just a load of hockey—bull-hockey, dangit! I want to lose weight. I don't want my Wii to tell me I'm a really fat person. I want my old jeans back. Oh, and I'm gonna get it—yes sir-ree bob-tail, I'm gonna get what I want. I don't care that I have to electrify what my wife calls the ever-expanding buttocks. I don't care that I have to pass out from exhaustion on the jogging part of Wii Active. I don't care that I have to endure the fat jokes from my wife who was always 20lbs. heavier than me for our entire marriage, and only during her pregnancies and since her "biggest loser" contest at school have things changed, so she can now call me the fat one. I'M GOING TO GET THIN AGAIN IF IT KILLS ME! Top that, Jillian Michaels!

Introduction

Well, it's that time of year again; a resolution time of year. It's time for the ultimate test of stamina and stick-with-it-ness that some folks might, for simplicity, call endurance. Yes, it's time for the dreaded (wait for it . . .) WEIGHT-LOSS Resolution!!! Here's the back story: Vince A. Vaughn (not the incredible movie star, but my idol, nonetheless) called me not too long ago. Now Vince is a close personal friend who I've known for about 13 years. Such a friend is he, that I was not remotely offended by his suggestion that I was fat. After all, he matter-of-factly stated that he was fat, too. He thought it would be a good idea if we started this blogging site telling people of our "adventures" of trying to slim-down for 2010. So here we are.

These pictures are examples of what I look like now.

I suppose a good place to start would be a brief introduction of the authors of the site (I'll let Vince introduce himself): My name is Emil Girardin Jr. I was born 38 years ago in Valdosta, Georgia, a humble fly-spot on interstate 75 on the way to Florida. I am the oldest of two children and the only member of my nuclear family who does not speak with a heavy southern accent. Throughout childhood and adolescence, I have been active enough to not care about my caloric intake or my desert consumption, and, frankly, I've enjoyed some pretty awesome, yet unhealthy, foods. Some might say that I've developed a bad habit of eating see-food (*ask me about this 3rd grade joke later). Since I've been married, my superhuman abilities to eat anything and retain my svelte figure have waned, and consequently I weigh about 65lbs. more than I should.

My wife is a high-school Spanish teacher, and her school put on a "biggest loser" contest for the faculty members. She started out about 210lbs. and although she didn't win the contest, she has managed to get her weight down to about 180lbs, and she looks as slim as she was when we were married. This losing-weight thing has brought it to the forefront of her mind, and she constantly sends out little jabs at me about my weight. Now, I'm not crazy overweight or anything, but I weigh about 220lbs—it's more than I've ever weighed, and I'm starting to get a bit self-conscious about it—so, I'm resolving in 2010 to get fit again so I can shut my wife up and maybe regain an ounce or two of self-esteem back. This blog will serve to document Vince's and my progress on our quests to be the hunks that are trapped inside of us!