Ruminations on blowing out one's "O-Ring"

Another wonderful aspect of the Fun-tabulous World of Fatties of which I am a member, is the tendency towards hernia. There’s all sorts of flavors, from the super serious ones that dump your intestines into your coin purse, to the one that I have, the somewhat benign umbilical or “belly-button” hernia. Yep. As I like to say, I blew out my O-ring.

A couple years ago I had a really nasty case of bronchitis and felt my belly button sort of pop. “Well, that’s odd,” I thought. I pushed it back in, it went back in, I forgot about it. Occasionally it’s pop out a little, I’d chuckle to my self, mutter “turkey’s done!” and push it back in.

Now that I have attained my current weight of about 262 ish pounds, it’s making my belly button look kind of weird. It doesn’t hurt, except for when Owen kicked me in the belly button a month or so back at the zoo and it hurt like hell for a week.

So I went to the doctor today for a little look-see. He came in the room and he looked like if you called down to Central Casting and said “Quick, get me a doctor, and make sure he looks trustworthy…” they’d send this guy up. In his 50s or so, silver hair, parted to the side. Wire rimmed glasses, lab coat, the whole ball of wax. Looks like Sam Waterson from Law and Order kinda, actually.

Anyway he pokes and prods me and assures me that we can talk about the operation once I get a little closer to 200 pounds, so he said see me in November.


I like this guy, he’s an optimist.

So that's one more thing to work towards.

MEANWHILE:

I am a hungry, bottomless pit of a beast today. I feel like a volcano god and the islanders are just standing there, at the rim of chaos, chucking anything they can find in my flaming, bottomless maw. Fruit, chickens, goats, monkeys, you name it, and still I scream “MORE!!!!!”

Hey, here’s a question: How come whenever they always sacrifice virgins to these volcano gods? I mean, if I was a Mighty Volcano God I think it’s be a little tedious, don’t you:

Virgin: Greetings, oh mighty one, I am the sacrifice! I am yours to do with as you will!
Volcano god: I AM THE MIGHTY WANNA-HAKKA-LOOGIE! I AM THE BE ALL AND THE END ALL! I AM THE…UH, WHAT’S WRONG?
Virgin: (giggling) I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never done this sort of thing before.
Volcano God: AW GEEZ. YOU’RE A…A VIRGIN RIGHT?
Virgin: Does this not please you, mighty one?
Volcano God: NO, NO, IT’S FINE, REALLY…LOOK, JUST HAVE A SEAT FOR A MINUTE, I NEED TO TALK TO THE HIGH PRIEST FOR A SECOND. HEY, DAVE, COME HERE A MINUTE!
High Priest Dave: (rushing up to the altar)Yes, oh, Mighty Master of the Island, commander of all, King of…
Volcano God: YEAH, YEAH, THAT'S GREAT. LOOK, DAVE, ABOUT THIS WHOLE "VIRGIN" THING…
HP Dave: Is the sacrifice not to your liking, your majesty?
Volcano God: OH, NO, SHE’S FINE, REALLY. SHE’S A SWEET KID. IT’S JUST…
HP Dave: Yes, Oh Mighty One?
Volcano God: WELL...NOT TO SOUND UNGRATEFUL OR ANYTHING...I MEAN, YOU GUYS ARE A GREAT BUNCH OF WORSHIPERS, REALLY! TOP DRAWER ALL THE WAY! BUT. DOES IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE VIRGINS? I MEAN, THERE'S NO REASON YOU CAN'T CHANGE IT UP SOME, RIGHT?
HP DAVE: Uh, what?
Volcano God: WELL, YOU KNOW...MAYBE SEND SOMEONE UP WITH A LITTLE...OH HOW SHOULD I PUT THIS, A LITTLE EXPERIENCE NEXT TIME.
HP Dave: (Aghast)My Lord? We thought the pure of heart and spirit…
Volcano God: NO, THEY’RE GREAT, REALLY…BUT HOW ABOUT SOMEONE WITH A SOME IDEAS OF THEIR OWN? I’M NOT SAYING I WANT THE VILLAGE BYCICLE OR ANYTHING...
HP DAVE: What is a bicycle?
Volcano God: (sighs)NEVER MIND. (Goes back to Virgin, pours her a drink) SO…STILL IN SCHOOL?*

I don’t know where it comes from, but sometimes my brain just thinks of things.






*funny to anyone who has heard Dana Gould’s “FUNHOUSE” album.

Week 2: 263.1

Starting weight: 264.2
Current weight: 263.1
Total lost: 1.1
up .4

Goal: 180
NEW!- Goal for next week: 2



Meh, I didn’t expect to stay almost the same, given the fact that I was incredibly lax about working out. Sleeping seemed very important, sweating less so. Staying almost level is fine at least in the sense I didn’t gain like 5 pounds! Am I happy? Hell no, but I’m not going to beat myself up over this, I have plenty of other issues!

Tag, you're it!

As part of the Sporty by Forty Initiative, I went to the doctor today to see about the removal of some skin tags. These are gross little mole-like growths generally associated with fat folk. As I am one of those people, I have a veritable horde of the little bastards.

So, my Nurse Practitioner, who is AWESOME, by the way, sets me up to cut it off. So, she and the nurse (or was she a resident? I don’t know. Blonde girl in scrubs. She could have been a goddamn ninja for all I know, really.) get me on the table and my NP says “OK, first we’re gonna freeze it, then I’ll cut it with very sharp scissors. Next up we cauterize it with silver nitrate. Most people find that the worst bit.”

The whole thing went pretty smoothly aside from the bleeding. The worst bit was the damn anesthesia. So cold it burned! I didn’t really feel the snipping and the silver nitrate was remarkably like getting a tattoo. More annoying than anything else.

So after lunch I went to hug my friend good bye and my other friend says “Uh, you need to change your bandage!” I reach up and sure enough, Vampire Attack Victim! So I had to rush into work and change my band aid. There’s a big black spot on my neck where it was cauterized. It’s disgusting looking, really. Ugh. That and now it hurts. Makes sense, really. Ah well. I’m just glad it wasn’t on my face.

Anyway, I have to go to a dermatologist to get rid of the rest because she can’t do them. What can you do, right?

Running scared? A little bit, yeah, but hey, at least I’m running.

I don’t mean to be a downer, but I going to be.

Political commentator Tim Russert died recently. Heart attack. If you’re a fat dude like me, one who is on cholesterol and blood pressure meds, I suggest you read the CNN column I linked below.

This has scared the ever-lovin’ living hell out of me. Let’s see if it scares you, too.

http://www.newswithviews.com/Richards/byron60.htm

Yes, Tim Russert should have gotten himself into shape. This is all very much self inflicted, but it also begs the question: What the hell are our doctors doing to us?

This sort of thing furthers pushes me to action.

Lose the weight, lose the weight.

This needs to become my mantra. Yeah, I cheat on my diet and I do it far more than I ought to. I am a slave to convenience and grease. Reading this, and realizing that many of the medicines we take simply make matters worse, I am going to try even harder not to be so. Meds we are given by our healthcare providers to make us better have a decent chance of putting in the ground in some circumstances. I never really realized this, or maybe I trust doctors a little too much. Hell, I never knew flying in a plane was so stressful on your body. I take comfort in the fact my doctor said her ultimate goal is to get me off meds.

Week 1: 262.7

Starting weight: 264.2
Current weight: 262.7
Total lost: 1.5

Goal: 180
Juuuuust shy of one percent.
Miles to go before I sleep :)

I'm going to try and post more later.

Chest Pain! Don't Panic!

No, not the heart attack-y kind of chest pain, more along the line of “I have been lifting things that I am unaccustomed to lifting” chest pains. I feel like I bench pressed a Buick, despite only doing some weight work on Saturday. Go figure.

Well, kids, we’re a week in, and I’m feeling OK, despite this annoying hacky cough I seem to have developed since Friday night. Phlegm city, population HACK! HACK! HACK! HACK! KOFF KOFF! ACCCCKKK! Ahem, population, me!

I had a nice relaxing Father’s day, thankyouverymuch. We went out to Collingwood Flea Market but didn’t stay too long because it was too bloody humid. Owen looked at us like “Really? This is your idea of fun? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?” He’s not the kind of kid who gets cheered up if you buy him something either, because he doesn’t yet care about that. Well, unless it’s ice cream. He understands ice cream, for sure.

I’m going to keep weighing in on Tuesday I think, because for the most part, it’s the Pete Best of the days of the week. Here’s what I mean:


Monday: UGH! Monday Sucks! Booooo! Eff You, Monday
Tuesday: Well, at least it’s not Monday!
Wednesday: HUMP DAY!
Thursday: It’s the new Friday!
Friday: Woooooooo! It’s the weekend, baby!!!! Woooooooo!
Sat: the day you have eleven billion things to do but you generally just end up putting it off till Saturday. Also if you’re Jewish: Yay, God!
Sunday: your last gasp before going back to work. Doing 1 thing you put off yesterday, then postponing the rest until next Saturday. Also, non-Jews: Yay, God!


See, the best you can say about Tuesday is :It’s not Monday? Jeez. OK, that and it’s a great girl’s name.

Anyhow, that’s when I will be lumbering onto the scale for those of you paying attention, that is.

It's a Sunshine Day-ay!

Greg, Bobby, Marsha! Come on in here! Sing along, Alice!

I think I’ll go for a walk outside now
The summer sun's callin’ my name
(I hear ya now)
I just can't stay inside all day
I gotta get out get me some of those rays
Everybody's smilin’
Sunshine day
Everybody's laughin’
Sunshine day!
Everybody seems so happy today
It's a sunshine day!!!


I had a great walk today. Got in the car and decided that the gym just was not going to cut it, so I drove to IHOP…

JUST KIDDING! HA! (I kill me…)

I drove down to the waterfront park and took my exercise outside! I went for a nice walk down by the bay, where the watermelons groooooooooooow! (Oooh, sorry, dropped right into Raffi again, didn’t I? I have a toddler, please forgive me.) Anyway, the bay was super nice today, despite being positively lousy with Horseshoe Crabs. I saw a lady turning them over, and after finding one alive, she put it back in the water. I actually think you’re not really supposed to do that, but then again, I’m not the one on the beach doing CSI: Lawrence Harbor on the corpses of various Horseshoe crabs.

I really should have brought the camera, because what a day it was! There’s something to be said for being at the bay when the sun comes up (I have gone in the dead of winter when that something is “F**K! IT’S FREEZING OUT HERE! WHAT WAS I THINKING? I CAN’T FEEL MY ASS!”) and that was “wow!” The sky was a flawless blue, and the sun glinted off the water as the ducks and other birds foraged for their breakfast. It was just the right temperature, and the sun felt wonderful on my pale skin. I will probably have a wee bit of color from this, so that’ll be nice.

Again, I wish I had brought my camera! Lots of photo ops today! Here’s some things I wish I had taken pictures of:

1) The aforementioned sun on the water thing. Splendid.
2) Some Horseshoe crabs would have been cool
3) You know those dandelion puffs? You blow on ‘em, and make a wish? Well there were a bunch there today that were about the size of a tangerine! I’m gonna go back tomorrow, camera in tow, because some of them still hadn’t opened yet. Seriously, they were huge.
4) A duck sticking his head up out of the water with the sun behind it, looked just like that one famous Loch Ness Monster picture. I could have started the Monster of Lawrence Harbor rumor! We could call him “Larry.” Think of the t-shirt revenue!

What I really liked about today was everyone was in such a good mood. Every person I passed was smiling and said “Hello” or “Good Morning” and I even got a few jaunty waves. I should have brought some hand weights but I can do that next time.

The smell of lilacs and other flowers was fantastic, but I’m paying for it now with allergies. Seriously, I sound like the spoken word part of your average Barry White song. On the plus side, maybe this will help me score with chicks (i.e. my wife, you knuckleheads!)!

My Cheatin' Mouth!

Yeah, I had breakfast at Dunkin Donuts today. I slept in a little (I do not gym it up on Thursdays) and didn’t allow myself enough breakfast time. I made it as healthy as I could (only 1 sausage patty, Multigrain bagel) but still, it was far from my optimal breakfast. The sad thing is, it’s like an hour later and I am hungry again, and tired to boot. Stupid stomach! Why do I keep listening to you!?!?!?! Sometimes I think it’s because you’re bigger than my brain, but you’re soft, soft I tell you, and you are no longer in charge.

I’m not going to beat myself up (unless you count extra fun at the gym tomorrow!), my public admission to the whole damned internet is enough to guilt me for a good long while.

Lots to do tonight as well. I want to post some stuff up on Ebay, the baby needs laundry done (and he can’t reach the washer. That and he’d probably try and eat the quarters…) and I need to pack what was won from this week’s auctions. FUN CITY!

Why am I doing this?

Here's why:


This guy, right here.

I mean, sure, I’m doing it for my wife, and of course I’m doing it for me, and I’m doing it because I really need to, but most importantly, for this little dude. I want to be here a long time. I want to be here when he needs to check for monsters under the bed. I want to teach him about Godzilla and Ultraman. I want to be there when his mother says “Go ask your father!” (to which we all know the proper response is “Well, what did your mother say?”). I want to fly model rockets and take him to every aquarium I can. I want to nag him to clean his room, mow the lawn, and for heaven’s sake, pull up your pants! I want to be able to run and jump, play catch, shoot hoops and do whatever he needs me to do, and I can’t do that if I’m winded or, God forbid, dead.

So, Owen, it’s for you I get up at the crack of the crack of dawn. It’s for you I am eating bran cereal instead of sausage patties on bagels and biscuits. It’s for you I am walking. It’s for you that I am taking the stairs. It’s for you and Mama that I intend to get in shape for, because the time here on this planet is precious, and I want as much of it as I can grab to spend with you guys.

There's a McDonald's on the way to the gym...

and invariably I catch that light. I love the breakfast there, and have since high school. I have eaten an inordinate amount of pigs in the form of those little sausage patties on a biscuit. When I think of it, I have abused myself pretty solidly for far too long.

Anyway, back to that bastion of calories on the way to the gym. There it sits, like the house of an ex girlfriend, calling to me while I sit waiting for the damned light to change. I know full well she's ready to take me back, and in a few minutes I could be making hot, greasy breakfast love again. It would be good, oh yes, it would be good. Warm, tasty sausage on a flaky, buttery biscuit. Crispity, delicious hash browns shaped like a flat capsule for some reason, but no less nummy. I know she's bad for me, believe me, I do. Sometimes it's just easier to give in. For a few minutes, I am in heaven. However, afterward it's always awkward, I'm all ashamed of myself and she's expecting to see me every day again, "just like it was before." It's hard to resist her siren-like call, but for the Initiative to succeed I must. Yes, she makes me feel good, but really, she's killing me by degrees.

That can't happen.

So, instead I'm at home eating Fiber One cereal (the kind that look like rabbit pellets a bit) and soy milk. The cereal is pretty great, and surprisingly does not taste like twigs. The only problem I can foresee is increased intake of fiber and soy on one end, leads to increased production at the other end, if you catch my drift. In other words, you end up crapping like a zoo monkey for a while. It's pretty standard. If I change my diet I suffer a period of about a week where my body and digestive system have to adjust to the intake, one way or another.

It'll all be worth it eventually.

Current weight 264.2...goal weight 180

Yeah, that's 80 some pounds. It's 5:50 AM and I am heading off to the gym.

wow, it's early...

Good grief, is that my weight or my bowling score?

Yeah, it's a shock getting on the scale and you see the numbers go up, up, up, until you hit that magic number. The deal breaker. Or as I like to call it, your "FMF" number. FMF, in case you didn't know, stands for Fat Mother...well, you get the idea. I have officially hit my FMF number, and I am going to publish it here for the whole damned internet to see.

267

Yes, some time last year I hit 267 pounds. That's 33 pounds away from being Nero Wolfe, and I said, well, that's it. The missus and I joined a gym and I did pretty good for a while. Around Thanksgiving I got sick and then I was sick for two weeks, better for two weeks, sick for two etc until abut April.

"Well, Chubsy McBigbones" you remark, "It's June in case you hadn't noticed. What happened?" I got lazy. It's way easier to lay in bed than it is to haul my carcass out of bed at 5:30 am and drive to the gym. I admit it, I am lazy. This is why I have high blood pressure and cholesterol. This is why I have a big gut. This is why I have like 4 work shirts that fit me. This is why I can't shop at the discount rack.

Well, to hell with it. Today begins the SBFI or Sporty By Forty Initiative. I am almost thirty-eight, so I'm giving myself a little time.

Remember, it's not about getting the six-pack, it's about losing the pony keg!