30 DAYS...

Sorry for the lack of updates.  Here’s the news right now:

1)    I got laid off

2)    Sleep apnea is no better

3)    Going for sleep study soon

4)    May have new job in sight or…

5)    I may be going back to school!

I’ll get into those in more detail but I wanted to get something going first.

So yeah, this begins my official Old Man Conroy Quit Eating Like an Asshole Challenge.  So, in case it’s not obvious, my goal is to quit eating like a complete asshole.  It’s tough, I’ve been doing it for so long.  It's comfortable, like sweatpants.

You may ask me, ”Rich, how do I know I’m eating like an asshole?”

To quote my friend Jasmine, “Oh, you know…” and she’s right.  When you go eat something crappy when you have something good at home.  When you eat that FIFTH PLATE at the buffet.  When one or more of those plates consisted of ONLY BACON.

You get the idea.

I have done the above and more.  I could do some serious damage at a buffet.

One of my big problems is I am an emotional eater.  Anything that sets me off sends me down a rabbit-hole of cookies, junk food or grease.  On really awesome days it does ALL THEREE!

Still today I am a bad day away from eating McDonald’s, a tiff with the wife away from eating at White Castle, a sleepless night away from another battle with General Tso’s insidious yet delicious forces!

I’ve almost always had weight troubles.

In grammar school I was always kinda pudgy, but frequently after getting my ass summarily handed to me in my near daily after-school beating from a group of boys in my class (and the next year up to boot!*) I’d go home, plop in front of the TV and eat an entire sleeve of Chips Ahoy! cookies.  I was never very athletic and since gym class meant competing against the same group of altar boy Neanderthals that were ambushing me on a day to day basis I sure didn’t like that much either.

High School wasn’t much better.  I stayed out of physical fights, but a lot of the jocks picked on the nerds and I was, believe it or not, a colossal nerd.  So, I of course rebelled against sports.  Why try to join what the people who hate you are doing?  I mean you don’t like me? We’ll you and your team can all get fucked for all I care.**

Wow, had I known then I was rebelling against health, I might have done it differently.

I remained about 140 pounds throughout college, so I wasn’t so much “fat as I was “doughy**.”  I had 32 inch jeans until I got out in the workforce, where I sat behind a desk.

This is why I weigh, about 260 pounds now.  The only reason I have a 38 inch waist now is I wear them under the big ol’ gut.

So there we go.  Let’s get up and get on it.  Maybe if I can get the eating thing right, I can start sleeping better, and then I can exercise.

I’m getting too old for this shit.

NEXT POST- Living the tired life with Sleep Apnea!

*Ah, Catholic School.  Where my folks paid good money to have me worked over every day like I owed money to the mob!

** Boy, I sure showed them!

*** I know, ladies but please, have some composure.

Round 2 Week 3- Ah, shit. (Attempting a repost from Monday!)

Starting weight: 264.1

Weight last week: 258.1
Current weight: 263.0
Lost this week: UP 4.9
Total lost to date: 1.1

Weight left to lose: 83

Please note, this is in US pounds.

 

Two posts in one day?  Yeah like I said the original weigh in post from Monday got all eaten up by the Internet, so here I am.

 

As far as my super crappy weigh in, I'm going to mostly blame a trip to Red Robin on my cheat day.  Not a great meal and so salty that I really think it made me retain a lot of water.  Even my wedding ring has been super tight.

 

 Today's lunch has some nice grilled chicken with a coffee-garlic rub.  Om nom and may I say nom!

I don't have a lit to say about this, because I said it all and then it got devoured. Ah well...

We are experiencing technical difficulties, please stand by...

So yeah, apparently the blog ate my Monday update.  This is sermi-appropriate being I myself ate like I had a hole in my neck this past week apparently.  I say "apparently" when I mean "the scale said so!"

We are experiencing technical difficulties, please stand by.

Please note, when I was a little, I would, quite literally, stand next to the TV when this notice appeared on my TV screen. 

I'm not sure what I was trying to accomplish, but I guess I thought "I don't know why they want me here, but if me doing this helps get Scooby and the Gang out of old man Crenshaw's spooky old air field, I gotta do my part!"

You don't see this very often these days.  I wonder why that is...

In unrelated news, this bloody sleep apnea business is really getting to me.  I am literally just-this-side of exhausted 99% of the time.  My back is sore, my feet are sore my hands are sore.  I assume it's because my body can't get enough rest to heal up, but I'm a little scared to be frank.

I have a doctor's appointment Friday, so let's see what's up with that.

We are experiencing technical difficulties, please stand by.

Please stand by.

Today on "This Old Man" we're going start tearing down this porch...

Regardless of the fact the I am not a homeowner as of yet,I do, sadly, possess a "front porch."  Ironically it's not the type you want to sit on and while away those warm country afternoons while whittling a woodchuck out of a nice piece of hickory*. 

 

The "front porch" I speak of is the dreaded FUPA (Foo-Pa). Otherwise known as the Fat Upper Pubic Area.  Also known by a shit ton of other, less work safe names as well.  Millions of people probably have it.  I feel like it sneaks up on you too.  Things are fine in that department until one day you look down at the, ehrm, "equipment" and think "didn't that used to be bigger?"

 

It's damned unattractive too.  It's one thing to have a gut but this is like an overstuffed down vest for your unit.  I'll pause here while you attempt to visualize this.  It's really tough, but maybe I can help.  Think of Marty McFly, but instead of Mikey J. Fox, it's a small, flaccid dong. **  Ladies have a different issuse sometimes referred to as the "gunt."  Classy, right? 

 

I mean it's the same issue, just a different look.

 

Needless to say, it has got to go.  I need to look into exercises for it, but I imagine it's all crazy lower ab shit.  I mean how else do you work it?

 

This is why you have to avoid pleated frount trousers if one has any "FUPular activity" going on. Wear a belt with that combo and it looks like you're trying to put a rubber band around a balloon.

 

LIke this kinda-

 

 

In unrelated news, I can't seem to spell to save my life today.

 

 

 

 

*Yes, Janet, I realize there's both a "sitting on it" and a wood joke in there.  I'm feeling fairly sassy today, thank you very moosh!

**It's times like these I wish I could draw, really.

Seriously, no excuses...

We have no excuses whatsoever that are valid.  None.  Not after this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qX9FSZJu448

Normally I find Coldplay irritating, but boy does it work for me here.  Please note the room's gonna get real dusty when you watch this... 

Now I realize this is now an advert for the Diamond Dallas Page Yoga program, but, as I know from a friend of mine it works, and it works amazingly well.  I'm going to see if he'll share his story for the blog. Regardless, this is still amazing

Look at what this man accomplished.  Determination.  An unwillingness to to give up.  Also a healthy and blatant disregard for the odds.

That's what works.

Look this guy up and he's in even better shape now, by the way.

I'm going to seriously look into this program by the way.  I'll keep you posted.

ROUND 2 Week 2 Let's talk about goals, shall we?

Starting weight: 264.1

Weight last week: 259.5
Current weight: 258.1
Lost this week: 1.4
Total lost to date: 6.0

Weight left to lose: 78.1

Please note, this is in US pounds.

OK, I'll take it.  I know I had a lousy dinner yesterday (25 Burgers*, but I am glad to see it wasn't taken out on my results too much.  Probably could have lost a little more, but a loss is a loss, so we're calling it a win.

So the Burfday is rapidly a-comin', the double quad.  FORTY FOUR.  Didn't make "Sporty by Forty" but it's never too late to try hard and make something happen.  44, not 84, you know?  "Sporty by Forty" was slightly more successful than my "More 69 in 96" (which was a damn good slogan, even if none of you ladies agreed!) but I think I'll avoid a new slogan for now.  Unless I come up with obvious gold.

Anyway, I'd like to be 20 pounds down by my Natal Anniversary, and it's a little more than a month away.  14 more pounds to go.  I feel pretty good about that, actually.  I think, should I manage to do 25 pounds by then (239.1 for those of you playing at home!),  I should get myself something cool.  I'm not sure what that is yet.  Oh, maybe a nice coin for my collection!  2014 Silver Panda, I'm looking at you!

When I get to 225 (39.1 pounds down), I plan on a small tattoo.  Something cheap, and I already know what it is and I think it's a suitable reward. That's pretty much where I fell off the fat wagon the first time.

When I break 200, I want to mark it as well (in some way other than umbilical hernia surgery which should take place at that time or therebouts.)

When I hit my goal, I'm stocking up on shirts at 5dollarshirts.com and getting a nice suit.

I don't even wear suits that much, but I might if I didn't look like I ate Bill Blass when I wore them.


* It's the name of a place, I'm no completely nuts.

ROUND 2: Week 1- FIGHT

Starting weight: 264.1

Weight last week: 264.1
Current weight: 259.5
Lost this week: 4.6

Total lost to date: 4.6

Weight left to lose: 79.5

Please note, this is in US pounds. 

OK, pretty happy about this.  

Last night an the beanery a co-worker who for the purposes of this post will be called Babs, because that's her name, offered up Chinese food as a dinner solution. I declined due to wanting to weigh in today and I'm glad I did.

Onward and downward!

Guess who I saw at Shop Rite the other night?

If you guessed Super Virile Asian Guy, you'd be right.  Still looks good, and he was wit, of all people a woman I used to see running in my old neighborhood.  We'll call her the Ginger Streak, although it implies she runs in the buff, which is not the case. 

I took it as a sign to get the blog going again.  I was gonna use the phrase "get the band back together" just yet.but then I'd have to get the band back together and I'm not ready for that just yet.

Anyway, I'll be back soon with a general life update.

Everything this is fat again. Yes I mean me.

ROUND 2 the start!

Starting weight: 264.1 (BANWAP*)
Weight last week: na
Current weight: 264.1
Lost this week: n/a

Total lost to date: n/a

Weight left to lose: 84.1

Yes, that's right, I'm back baby!  Got a new scale too. 

So my Fat content is a staggering 35.9 (I would be super cheap meat, but mmmm-mmm look at that marbling!)

Hydration level- 46.9.  Gotta read the manual about what that actually means, but I know it.

BMI- 37.5 (i.e. Tubby)

There will be some minor tweaks here and there but I expect to update Mon,  Wed and Friday. 

*BANWAP, thanks to Dan from the Resistors stands for Bare-Assed Naked Weight After Pooping.

So I found HALF of the hospital post...

so I'll get it finished this weekend I hope..  Still at it. Still at it.

The story as it stands now.

So, I’ve experienced a few “rock-bottoms” in my life.  A few of them have been referenced in this blog.  The Hospital Incident, the Denny’s Imbroglio and last but not least the Great Dog Escape.

Well we had another one this weekend. 

I know what you’re thinking “Well, Chunky, howsabout you get off your pasty posterior and get moving again?”  Well, duh, America, I’m trying.  No, really, but it’s hard.

“Well, no kidding, but you’ve done it before.” Yep. So I can do it again, I know I can.  I know as I wedge my ample frame squarely into the dreaded period of “Middle Age” I come to grips with visions of mortality (and not just via the Celtic Frost song of the same name!) and I realize the road ahead is going to be a good deal shorter than the road behind unless, to continue this fairly clunky automotive analogy, I take a different route.  I think there’s probably a “scheduled maintenance” joke I can make as well, but I’m having a little trouble getting there.

My schedule, as you are probably aware, is packed fairly tight.  On at least 2 days a week I drive directly from one job to another, leaving the house at 8:15, not returning until 10:40 or so with a half hour for lunch and an hour drive between the two gigs. 

I have made a fair go of getting up at 6:50 to get the dog up and out, and at least walk around the block twice.  He’s a meanderer, so that’s annoying, hard to get a good pace going.  Sleep, however, is a harsh mistress.  She lures me into her warm and welcoming embrace assuring me I can “always start tomorrow.”

Of course having Fergus AKA Fergusy-Ferg, The Fuffus, Furgatroid, Der Fuffenagle, Dr. Licky Pupperman DDS* cuddle up to you as you try and get out of bed doesn’t help in the least.  As World’s Snuggliest Yorkie-Poo he’s duty-bound to attempt to sleep as long as possible, and lord knows the 14+ hours a day he gets simply can’t be enough.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah my annoying bottom!** 

My son has Autism and our family belongs to an organization called parents of Special People.  Well, this past Sunday was our Pancake Breakfast where we had families come together and meet and network and eat some pancakes and ungodly amounts of bacon.***  We also had some characters scheduled.

These were suits to be worn by intrepid parents, and I volunteered to be Cookie Monster. So I retreated to the back hall to change wouldn’t you know I couldn’t fit in the damned suit.

Let me reiterate my situation, in case it wasn’t obvious enough: I was too fat to play a Muppet who’s primary diet consists of baked goods.

My wife reassured me that the costumes are small, and yeah, they are, but not THAT tight.  So, someone else put on the suit and my son RAN to him and hugged him. 

Thank you, Gods of Irony, for that colossal crack in the nuts.

And so, please tune in here because I’m going to try a Monday/Wed/Friday update.  We’re gonna make the Fat Man accountable again, and see if we can’t get back towards fitness.

* that’s for Doctor of Dog Stuff just so you know.

** Shut up, you!

*** and by families I mean me, primarily.

That's twice now...

I have tried to post the hospital story and it's gone pear shaped on me.  What in the green hell is going on?

That's right...

12 pounds so far.  Yeah, I know, pretty awesome, right?  Well, it's onwards and downwards (weight wise, dummy!) and the next installment is, I promise, PART TWO of my harrowing hospital experience!

Yeah it's been a while...

...but I've had my issues.  Let's give you a slight update, shall we?

Turned 42 in August.  Not my best birthday, I was pretty miserable about my situation (weight-wise and other stuff) but what can you do. 

Survived Hurricane Sandy.  Like an angry, scorned woman who found out you were schtupping that cocktail waitress at the bowling alley, Sandy came in at the End of October and broke all of the shit, everywhere around here.  To carry metaphor a little further, now all your broken crap is on the lawn as well and she's just a bad memory.  Fortunately aside from the lost food and money and 8 days without heat, hot water or lights, we made it through OK.

Started a new day job.  I like it more than the old day job for sure.  Handling two jobs a lot better this time out.

In the really good news department, I somehow in the course of the last month have lost 10 pounds.  PArt of it is my new philosophy of "Stop Eating Like an Asshole." 

I know what you're thinking, "Rich, how do I know when I'm eating when I'm eating like an asshole?"

My response is "Come on.  You know when you're eating like an asshole."

More to come very soon.

So, what weighs 40 pounds?

So, yesterday I discovered that over the last two years I have managed to undo all the good I did in the previous two years and crammed forty fricking pounds down my gullet and onto my frame again.
Things that weigh 40 pounds:

• a 15-foot canoe!
• My kid!
• 8 bags of sugar!
• an average human leg!
• a Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier!
• four of my dog!
• five gallons of water! (actually a little closer to fifty pounds, but for this exercise we'll go with it)
• and finally, this giant freaking cat!

Yeah, how about that?
For all intents and purposes I have that furry SOB sitting under my shirt right now! Metaphorically speaking, of course. O mean, OK, if I actually had him there all I would be doing is whipping my shirt up so girls would see that furry tub of Fancy Feast and go "Awwwww!" and...where was I going with this?*

*not to the gym, obviously, amirite?

New goal shirt! Also: stuffing 10 pounds of, well not "awesome," but *something* into a five pound bag...

So, yeah I was researching my previous Goal shirt here and here and discovered that, almost two years ago I was over 40 pounds lighter than I am right now!

Holy shit, kids, that's pretty sobering. I mean packing on 20 pounds a year is just stupid, any way you look at it. I'm really upset with myself. On top of it all I no longer fit in my old XL shirts comfortably, I am in XXLs. So, basically at 262.2 I have somehow expanded my mass? I'm actually 2 pounds less than when I started, and yet my body shape is way different.

Also, let's not talk about my hernia, either. I'll actually cover that later, I have a relevant post.

So, what was on about before? Oh,yes the new Goal Shirt. This is kind of a crummy picture of it, but welcome to my life lately.


Yeah, that's all 11 Doctors as owls. Yes, you're jealous as you well should be!

Here's a better pic of the design

So, as if I needed another reason to keep this up...

The frigging booth at Denny's was happy to punctuate the situation for me:

No I did not eat the waiter, thank you very much!

When "manning up" means you get laid up OR Rich's amazing Hospital Adventure PART 1

Late last year and into 2012 I discovered It was getting difficult to get my left leg into the car.  I had leg stiffness after doing my shifts at the coffee shop before, so I didn't think it was all that unusual.  I also had a little swelling of my left foot.  I didn't think much of it, being I knew I was gaining weight.  I kind of thought I was dehydrated, and frequently more water or Pedialyte seemed to do the trick.

Now in the last weeks of January, my left leg was getting progressively more swollen and started getting red.  My feet were hurting and it was difficult to walk sometimes.  I didn't really think much of it*, and figured It'd just go away on it's own.  You know, how things normally work when you're a guy.  Let's face it, if I could still go to work and hobble around, I probably could successfully ignore an actual monkey attacking me if he was quiet and wasn't biting all that hard. You know, a semi-gentle gnawing if you will.  Like monkeys tend to do.**

Saturday the 28th I was super tired. Like falling asleep in my chair at 5 pm and almost unable to function  tired.  That's not usual for me.  Even confronted with little sleep I can usually manage to get things done, but this day, make no mistake kids,  I was a mess.  Now, because I am the owner and operator of a penis,  I naturally just assumed I was just getting a little sick.  I had a fever.  Nothing face-melting, but still.  I was sure a good night's sleep would be all I needed to feel right as rain.

Anyway, on Sunday the 29th, I woke up feeling better.  My leg, on the other hand (on the other foot?) was not looking awesome.  Red and splotchy was the order of the day.  Now I know you're thinking "Rich, you're Irish!  Red and splotchy is in the handbook, right?" and normally I'd agree.  This time there seemed no reason for it however.

So, I got dressed and slowly made my way to the car.  I took the boy to basketball practice and talked to one of the Moms and we discussed my leg which was looking redder by the minute, but honestly felt better.  I want to say I was still coming off Bronchitis or something like that but the memory cheats and I should have written all this down ages ago.

Well, I work on Sundays down at the ol Beanery, and while I was getting dressed and talking to my wife (yes ladies, this is the super hot action going on in our house!  Seethe with jealousy!) she took at my now rather not-nice-looking leg.

"Doesn't that hurt?" she asked, concerned.

"Nope," I replied, sliding on my khakils, "It's swollen, but it's fine.***"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go call Phyllis..."  That's my wife's friend, the nurse.  Long story a little shorter, Phyllis said to take me to the ER where I would probably be given broad spectrum antibiotics and sent home.

Never has Phyllis been so wrong before!  Well, at least I don't think so, I don't know her all that well...

To Be CONTINUED...





* because I'm a damned idiot, thank you very much
** They really don't do this.  GEnerally speaking, most primates are right bastards
*** These, it turns out, have been officially, Famous Last Words for some blokes in the past.

McDonalds is perfectly healthy!

http://consumerist.com/2012/06/mcdonalds-head-chef-doesnt-see-anything-unhealthy-on-the-menu.html

Read the comments. they are a hoot, as usual.

So, anyone still following this blog (thank you both!) is probably wondering “What in the hell happened to Rich?”

Lots, let me tell you!

In January, the impetus for getting my sorry and now considerably larger self back in shape was truly forming. One fine morning I split my pants at the post office. OK, specifically I was getting into my car not like, reaching for a book of stamps or anything. Regardless, believe me when I say I completely destroyed my pants. Like split them from the belt line, all along the seam, right to the crotch.

Yes, I basically bisected a pair of pants.

Now, in my defense, they were FadedGlory jeans from WalMart, which are basically the equivalent of pants made from denim Kleenex*, but the fact remains that I basically had a pair of DIY chaps on my hands. Erm, well, you know what I’m getting at, surely…

oh, you don't? Take a gander at this:

Ladies?  How YOU doin?

Yep, that'd be a cel pic I set to the missus. You'll note the pink and tender buttock meat right there indicating another crucial element to this story. That being: I chose this day to go commando.

Now, normally this wouldn't be too bad.  I mean, who's gonna know?  Well, anyone who had eyes actually. All i had to do was put on a fresh pair but I wasn't home! Oh, no, that would be too easy. I was at the supermarket and had two other errands to run, but hey, sometimes you have to go back to go forward, you know?

So I run back home and check the area and it seems all clear. So, I exit my vehicle, start walking towards the house, and I hear it...The SCAT bus! Yeah, a bus load of senior citizens get a glimpse of my pale and splotchy bottom  You're welcome, Silver Foxes.
.

Next installment- Rich "mans up", toughs it out and ends up in the hospital!

* Could you imagine a big box where pants pop up like tissue?  That'd be awesome.