Season of the Devil

BEFORE

AFTER- So FAR!

Greetings fellow fat fanatics! Let's get rolling with another debriefing on my de-beefing.

Since our last update, I have made some progress and I do mean some. I have managed to budge slightly downward on the scale to 187.8. I guess I'll take it. Any weight loss at this point is welcomed!  I was hoping to be at 185 by tomorrow morning.  With any luck, I will be at 186.9. I need to be as low as possible tomorrow morning. Why? Because at noon my seasonal dance with The Devil commences.

Let's introduce The Devil to our new followers and reacquaint him with our loyal followers.

The Devil is my mental nemesis. He resides forever in the deepest corners of my psyche. His only goal is to make me weak. To make me succumb to my inner cravings. To make me lose all inhibitions. To make me give in. In short, to make me forget how far I have come.

While The Devil is ever present and challenges self myself control daily, he really goes all out on special occasions. And there are no better occasions than the holiday season. The "D" is licking his chops right now. He knows I have a myriad of lunches, dinners, family get togethers and seasonal office revelries on my immediate schedule. Add to these distractions, my travel schedule starts to get a bit hectic.  I have have one trip a month planned for the next four months, each with it's own brand of fine dinning and adult libations.

I know when I am thinking soberly, I can make the right choices and not fall off the food wagon. But that's not how The Devil rolls. He knows I'm strong enough to go toe to toe with him with a clear mind. That's why he travels with his wily henchmen, Al C. Hall and Vinny Vino. He knows, that despite my personal fortitude, I will celebrate the season and imbibe in an abundance of adult beverages. Al and Vinny will be there to happily provide me with a plethora of choices to help dull my senses and weaken my resistance. The "D" is always waiting in the shadows, armed with a hot pizza pie, ready to pounce at me at the slightest loss of will power. Or it could be a cookie he wields to take me down. Perhaps some crunchy Fritos. Whenever my guard goes down, The "D" will be ready with the soup du jour.

So let the games begin! It's a fancy country club lunch tomorrow, Thanksgiving Thursday, and then couples dinner Friday.  I get a couple days off then I'm off to Palm Beach for a week with relatives and friends. My new goal is to weigh no more than 189.9 on Tuesday, December 10.  That would be a small victory. Meanwhile, if I show up at your doorstep caroling with a martini in hand, you know a well done cheese and sausage can't be far behind.

See you in a couple of weeks

Johnny

No News is Bad News is Good News

Hello again everybody! It's time for your favorite periodic pudgy press conference. I did alert all of the major media outlets. But it seems they had more pressing obligations. Go figure. I'm flabbergasted that they don't think this is breaking news. I bet if I got a pit bull to bite me in the ass I'd be all over the 5 o'clock news.

Let's talk about my weight loss for the past week. (Buzzer sound here.) That sound means I have nothing to report. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Same weight, almost to the ounce, as last Monday. While it's true I busted the 190 mark and hit the elusive 189, it is here that I am stuck.  Mired in melancholy.  My previously reported frustration with my temperamental metabolism is rearing it's ugly head once more. It's very disheartening to get on that scale really feeling pumped for a loss, only to have that electronic bastard spew it's bad news. I'm going to fling that thing out the window some day.  I have never had such a love / hate relationship with an inanimate object before. I once had a putter that crossed me the wrong way and I sent it to a watery grave in a small water hazard. This fancy Fitbit scale only has so many lives.

The no news is the lack of weight loss.  The bad news is I probably won't hit the goal I set for myself of 186 by the day before Thanksgiving.  Seeing that is only 8 days away, it will take an act of the fat gods for me to make it. The other salty news is that this plateauing is messing up my math. I need to lose at least 20 more pounds. When I was at the 1-1/2 pound per week pace, I had the goal date of March 1. One pound per week puts me out to mid April. If I fall below that, I guess we're talking May.

I'm doing my part. I'm staying on my 1200ish calories a day plan. I'm limiting my drinking to special occasions. Now I'm stepping up my workouts to 4-5 days a week. I have actually been doing sprints in the middle of my treadmill walks to boost my metabolism. I am working some with weights. I say "working" because my loss of muscle really makes "lifting" hard. These increased workouts have come at great expense to my aging and abused body. I had bad eyes, bad shoulders and creaky knees going into this thing.  We can now add bad feet and sore hips to the hit parade.

The good news is I'm not giving up. I have a few hurdles here to overcome in the short term, namely Thanksgiving, Palm Beach , birthday, Christmas, New Years Eve, New Orleans, Palm Beach  and Scottsdale. My loyal readers will remember that this was the schedule last year that made me bust out of my pants. Well, not this year sports fans. By hook or by crook I will be under my goal by my Bandiversary. May 15, 2014. In the meantime, let's all pray to the god of fatness, Plumpurius, to guide us to the promised land.

Bye now!
JT

We Have Movement .....

Hello all!

Since my last update, I have had downward movement on the scale! YAY! It was getting very frustrating being stuck at around 193 for around 2 weeks. Frustrating and discouraging. It gets to a point where you start thinking you need to change something. I would like to thank Dr. X and the bubbly Ms. K from talking me off the ledge during my last visit. They both like my program and the results. They unanimously encouraged me to be patient and stay on point.  They were right.

I not only had a loss, I broke the 190 barrier as well. As of this morning, I have been in the 189 range, give or take a few ounces, for about 5 days. This certainly is a huge step in the right direction.  189 is significant for a couple of reasons.

First, hey it's 189! I'm in the 80's. I have talked previously about how long it's been since I was in this weight division. I think I broke the 200 mark in circa 1985.  So 189 was years before that. Perhaps the 70's? Might I have been doing The Hustle at 189? Possible. I know I played high school football at around 190 and that was my pre-Hustle days. Alas, my memory fails me again.

Next, 189 makes the 65 pound loss mark.  That's not just a significant amount of blubber, it also puts us only 5 pounds away from another blog entry of "what does this weigh".   Always amusing. And informative.

Lastly, 189 puts me exactly 20 pounds away from my original goal of 169. Yes fans, the finish line is coming in to view. It's time time to refocus and put the after burners on.  I can't get distracted and I have to be PATIENT! That's going to be the hardest part. Good thing I have the holidays coming up to keep my mind off of food, drinking and merry making.  I better rethink that.

See ya real soon...

JT

5 is better than 4

Yesterday I made my monthly sojourn to the Center for Fat-ass-i-ness. As usual, I arrived a bit early, checked in with Ms. Grumpy at the desk, got my hospital name bracelet, and selected a fat ass chair to park in while I waited for the venerable Dr. X.

As always, the waiting area was filled with a mixture of pre and post bandsters. I can usually tell who's who. I remember my first consultation there back in January. I envision that I probably had the same look on my face. A look somewhere between anxiety and fear. And right down the street from What the F am I doing here. Yup. That look. Taking that first step takes a lot of courage. Not military type courage. It takes personal courage. It's very humbling to waddle into a fat ass clinic full of normal sized people and ask for help. It's the last stop on the rotund railroad. Miss this stop and you're on your way to I-Give-Upsville. I bet almost all of these pre-bandsters have their consultation and take the plunge like I did. Once you've gone this far and once you're comfortable with the people trying to help you, the rest falls in to place. All that's left is the commitment.

Dr. X must've been busy, because I waited 45 minutes for the extra wide doors to swing open and the bubbly Ms. K to call my name. Once inside, my visit went by briskly. Ms. K, Dr. X and I have all become chummy and we spend more time chit chatting than we do about weight loss. But our work does get done. Blood pressure, excellent. Body Temperature, excellent. Now to the industrial scale and... 89 kilos exactly! It's always so anti climatic. We then went in to the exam room and dissected the numbers. Five pound loss in 5 weeks. They were happy. Me, not so much.

After the normal questions regarding my eating schedule and exercise routines, the three of us discussed my current plateau situation. Dr. X was very supportive and told me to hang in there. I'm doing the right things and it will pay off. But he decided to give me a little adjustment anyway. Another .25 ccs were squirted in to my port bringing the total restriction of my band to 47.5% full. I told him up front that the last injection "got my attention". I had three small stuck episodes and experienced my first slimming after the last boost. I really have to pay attention to the size of my bites and how fast I eat them. I guess I'm a real bandster now.

Before I took my leave, Ms. K inserted her two cents worth by suggesting I try cross-training to help me move off my plateau. Cross-training? I'm not really sure what that is. If cross dressing is the uniform for the cross training sport ... you can count me out.

Until next time...

SHUT YER MOUTH!

Johnny T

Curses! Stuck again

I'm sitting at my desk during my mini lunch period. I just fired down a Starkist Tuna Lunch to Go and a single serving of low fat cottage cheese. About 300 calories in all. Add my Muscle Milk Light shake with blended banana breakfast, I'm at about 500 calories right now. I stayed away from my mid-morning yogurt and have not consumed any water or Vitamin Water Zero. Only a couple cups of coffee. I'm straying from my routine.

Why? Because I'm frickin' stuck again and I'm going to the Fat-ol-o-gist in an hour and a half. I have to face the bubbly Ms. K and Dr. X, not to mention Ms. Grumpy (the nurse that take all my vitals). I'm going to give them my monthly rundown of average daily food intake and exercise and then answer all their prying questions.

Then we are going to look at my weight chart. For 5 months straight that line has been going down 5 to 8 pounds per month. Great progress. Remember? I got the gold star rock star routine from them? I'm worried I'm going to get some other type of doctoral input today.

Here's the skinny on the fat loss. I was 195 pounds on October 12. I was 194 pounds this morning. That is not good. I have been bouncing up and down between 192.5 and 194.5 for about 2 weeks. Verrrrry frustrating. I don't know what the problem is. I'm sticking to the plan. I am overly active. In fact, my heal hurts from walking 8.5 miles yesterday, my shoulder muscles hurt from weight lifting Saturday and my knees are burning from my new brisk 18 minute treadmill workout. I don't know what's killing me more. This working out BS or the lack of weight loss.

I checked my Fitbit app to get my weight from September 30, the last time I saw Dr. X. It said 198. It looks like the best I'm going to show is a 4 pound loss in 5 weeks. Yech. I don't want to make excuses. Excuses will not get met to 169. But if it does come up, I'll blame it on Vegas. What happens there doesn't always stay there.

I'll report the news soon.

Johnny T

Saucy Sixty

Hello again everybody! It's been another whirlwind of a month. We have passed 10,000 visitors to our fat blog... I successfully returned from my mancation unscathed... And I have passed the 60 pound mark. Yessir! In spite of being on a five day bender, I managed to eek past this milestone late last week. Sixty pounds of unflattering flab has evaporated from my formerly portly body. I'm guessing at least three quarters of it was ass weight.

Sixty pounds is a whole LOT of blubber. Hmmmm. I bet you're wondering what weighs 60 pounds. Well, let me help you with that. I did a little research and I found a few fun facts for fat fanatics.

Did you know that 40 dozen eggs weigh 60 pounds? Throw in about 10 pounds of cheese and a couple pounds of mushrooms, you could keep the formerly fat Johnny in omelette's for a week.

Oreo cookies - 640 of them weigh 60 pounds. This kind of shocks me. I used to polish off these delightful treats 100 at a time.

4 average Thanksgiving day turkeys weigh 60 pounds. I guess I used to eat about 4 times the average. With stuffing. And potatoes. Yeesh.

A big punching bag weighs 60 pounds.

A 5000 BTU air conditioner weighs 60 pounds. See, I told you so. That AC unit is about the size of my previous ass.

An average arm chair weighs 60 pounds. I bet those fat ass chairs tip the scale at a 100.

An average Collie weighs 60 pounds. Looks like I have a shed a full size Lassie.

Get this... an average elephant penis weighs 60 pounds. Don't shoot the messenger folks. Some curious fellow somewhere in time decided he had to know, so he weighed it. I have a lot of questions on this. First, how do you know if that elephant was average? Maybe he was over sized? Maybe he was the Big Man on the savanna? Conversely, How do we know he didn't just get out of the river? Maybe he had some type of pachyderm shrinkage? We could go on, but I'll spare you the queries of my inquiring mind.

Finally ... 60 pints of draft beer weigh 60 pounds. I'm sure that would cause a mean hangover. I just thought of something. That elephant penis would sure come in handy here when nature calls.

I hope you enjoy these fat facts as much as I do. It's really eye opening to put weight loss in to perspective. I have to just say WOW when I think about how far I have come in 7 short months. When you're a biggun, the hardest part of losing weight is starting. The second hardest part is keeping to your plan. I can see now that the third hardest part is patience. A year long endeavor of anything is a long, long time. With weight loss, it can be easy to get distracted once you start transforming. I can see how some people quit half way. Their clothes fit better, they are more confident, they think they are ready to attack the world. To me, this would be failure. This is not the path I have chosen. It's 169 or BUST for me. With my mancation distractions behind me, I am now refocused on getting to the goal by March 1, 2014. I hoping the 1st stop will be 185 on the day before Thanksgiving.

Keep checking back. Let's see if I can hit that 185.

JT

Vegas Notebook

Hello again fat fans. I have been slowly emerging from the fog of Vegas. Anybody who spends 5 days in that town knows what I'm talking about. It's especially grueling when you're hanging with a bunch of over the hill men who don't get out enough anymore. Don't get me wrong, hanging with a gaggle of aging adolescents has its moments. Aside from the always humorous body noises and smells men are famous for, this group also has its share of truly warped individuals. Hanging with these slightly depraved wise crackers always kicks up the hilarity a few notches.

I think it is incumbent upon me to relay to you that the "gentlemen" I am going on about in this column are not your average Joe's. They are very successful, hard working (or retired) affluent Americans. Doctors, lawyers, entrepreneurs and champions of industry all attend. Nothing draws a crowd of this magnitude like sunshine, golf, drinking and male bonding. Buffoonery is not only accepted, it is encouraged. You just can't beat a bunch of old dudes trying to emulate their younger selves.

The minds of some individuals do not process the way normal people do. We had a few of these "special" individuals on our trip and I was lucky enough to be present and bear witness to some real special tomfoolery. While on our bus to our first golf destination, one guy who spotted a LOST sign posted on a street lamp with a picture of a cat from some poor soul searching for her beloved pet. Of course his first instinct was to call the posted number and speak in a MEOW voice, as if the forlorn feline was calling home to be retrieved. Obvious belly laughter ensued and the MEOW voice permeated through our drunken conversations for days.

Another fellow lapsed into a quasi Chinese accent. After he saw this was humorously received by the rest of the group, he continued using it and combining it with impressions of other known individuals, celebrities and ethnic groups. I think we actually got a Chinese Jesse Jackson impersonation somewhere along the way. Of course, fueled by batches of alcohol, gang mentality took over and the whole group started using this new dialect and sharing in the merriment.

Then there was a super successful doctor I saw actually leave a $1.25 tip. If this wasn't enough ammo for his compatriots to pounce on him and reduce his testes to silica sand alone, he had to endure a week of dubious questions and adolescent remarks regarding his particular area of medicine. Of course he specializes in all things related to the female anatomy. Another boon for our band of brothers.

Booze, bravado and ball busting were the themes of the week. If you were one of the fortunate ones, you just laughed along with the group. The less fortunate fellows end up being the ass end of the jokes and the targets of all things whimsical. Needless to say, hanging with my crowd requires a thick skin. Any personal background, ethnicity, character flaw or physical malady is fair game to these aging punsters. It's a good thing my ass was half the size from last year. I was mercifully spared the the annual onslaught of fat barbs, jokes and zingers. Another unexpected Non Scale victory!

Five days of middle age debauchery is enough. I was lucky I knew my limits. As a veteran of 100+ Vegas trips, I gave up on the all night partying years ago. Staying out past midnight is a rarity. If I do burn the late night oil, I always pay for it the next morning. The emerging old man in me wakes up at around 5 am no matter the amount of sleep I have had, the liquor I have drunk or the the time zone I am in. I am a cursed early riser. Lack of sleep aside, if this bawdy band of bacchanalians announced they were going back next week, I would sign up in a heartbeat! (After I ask my wife and check with my doctors, of course.)

More to come!

Johnny aka "Richard Cranium"

Back From The Abyss

Hello fat-natics! Are you ready for a doughy dose of fat ass fables? Well, ready or not, here it comes.

I say I am back from the abyss because you all know I made my yearly sojourn to Vegas to play in an awesome golf tournament. I had several goals I set early in this process to be ready for this trip. I hit them all. I was a 195 pounds when I got on the plane, I had a workable golf swing, I had a go to meal plan that I could tolerate and I readily accepted the company of my fiendish friends Al C. Hall and Vinny Vino. My plan came together and I made it home unscathed.

Last Friday I woke up in my own bed. It took me a day or so to shake the cob webs out of my head and emerge from the whiskey blizzard I was caught in for 5 days. According to plan, I imbibed in adult beverages. Many of them. You could say I drank like fish. That is if a fish lives in a bowl full of vodka and soda. With a splash of cranberry. But that would kill the fish. So I guess I didn't drink like a fish. I drank like a guy who has been dieting since the beginning of April. And I went all in. I can honestly say I do not remember drinking that much ever before. Unfortunately, I cant remember how much I drank before due to the fact I was drinking. Make sense? Does to me.

On the food front, I ate and I ate well. But I didn't totally go off the reservation. I went to Mastro's. I had a little lobster, a little crab and a little tuna. And of course a few glasses of nice Cabernet. I went to Gordan Ramsey's STEAK. What a place! I ordered the signature Beef Wellington. I had to try it. Perfectly done fillet, wrapped in prosciutto, pate, and mushroom mash engulfed by a heavenly pastry puff. It was the most delectable thing I have eaten in years. But, I only ate half and reluctantly shared the balance with my fellow dinners. Then there was STK, The Brassier and The Steak House at Aria. All of them tried in vain to make me order a steak the size of Shaq's gym shoe. But I did not. I ate almost all protein for breakfast, lunch and dinner for days. I watched my portions and steered clear of snacks and sweets. And my lap band cooperated by not refunding the devilish dishes or the evil tonics.

I know you're all waiting to hear the numbers. You just want to know if my ass grew. Here it is. I got on the plane at 195. Six days later I was 197. I got back on plan and I hit 194.5 this morning! So the news is beyond good for the Johnny diet train. My first trip was a success. I did everything the other normal guys did and kept my weight the same. There is hope for me yet.

I'm glad I only go to Vegas once a year. I'm getting too old to run with the young bucks and stay up all night. Can't do it anymore. In fact, I think I enjoy spending time in the hotel spas more than I do at the tables. I think I'll take in a show next time. Maybe I can get David Copperfield to make the rest of my ass disappear.

On to new goals! 186 by November 27. The day before Thanksgiving!

Ba-bye!

Johnny T.

There Will Be Drinking .....

Well fat fans, it's here. The getaway I spoke about early on in my quest. Yup... I'm off to Vegas for my yearly golf tournament! If you remember, I had a couple of original goals that I wanted to achieve by this week. Do I have a go to menu of food I can comfortably eat so I don't upchuck on my fellow competitors? YUP! Do I have some type of golf swing I can work with? YUP! Also about 6 weeks ago I set my sights on being 195 pounds by the time I got on the plane. My flight is tomorrow. My cool Fitbit scale says I weighed 195.7 today. Good enough. Several goals achieved.

Today, I am setting another goal. Here it is. I want to be the same weight when I get home next week as when I get on the plane tomorrow. Truth be told,I will probably settle for a slight increase of a pound or so. My objective is to really watch my food intake and make good and healthy food choices. I will be challenged immediately with a dinner Saturday night at Mastro's and then Sunday evening at Gordon Ramsay's new spot. Gordon Ramsay? Really, does a struggling fat ass need this temptation? But I look at it as a good test. Under normal circumstances, I could get through these dinners and make the right choices and not fall overboard. But these are not normal circumstances. Nope. Not normal indeed. My three nememsis' will be with me 24/7. You know them, you love them ... please welcome The Devil, Al C. Hall and Vinny Vino.

With the aforementioned miscreants along for the ride, only one thing can be guaranteed. There will be drinking. The Devil makes me do it. His compatriots Al and Vinny only provide the means. And I fully intend to imbibe on their potent offerings. Be they derived from fruit or grain, distilled, brewed or aged in oaken barrels. This week, they will be welcomed. It was part of the plan. And I love how a plan falls into place.

Under Fat Johnny's old rules this meant all bets were off. Eating Doritos in my underwear at 3 o'clock in the morning would be fully acceptable. Making 3 passes through the breakfast buffet line, of course. Woofing down a couple dogs on the golf course, no problem. Huge steak or pasta filled dinner, bring it on! Ahhh, the good ol' days.

I can say this. My mindset has definitely changed. I no longer live for for food and food is not my life. I think I can handle the food part. Sure, we all long for the good old days. I yearn for the days of old only to remember my youth and how I squandered it. The new and improved Johnny is more focused on looking forward. Let's hope that the gruesome threesome doesn't fog the windshield!

Will Johnny go down?

Check back in about 10 days and you'll have the answer.

J

You Gotta ...PUMP... IT...UP!

Last Monday was a busy day capped off with my monthly visit with Dr. X. I was a little anxious this time around. As you loyal readers know, I really have never felt the expected restriction of the lap band. Last month he squeezed a full c.c. into the band bringing me to 35% restriction. Last Monday he squirted another full c.c. into the port bringing me to 45% restriction. I felt nothing. I got home and had a few oyster crackers and they went through like poop through a goose. I stayed with the recommended liquid dinner and started the next day with a Muscle Milk that I found at an airport kiosk. Yes, I had an early flight. I wanted to get something in my stomach before I hit the southwest for a client luncheon and a few meetings. Turns out, it was a good thing I did.

I made the luncheon right on time. Everything was going swimmingly until I put a little piece of cooked fish in my mouth. Being engaged in conversation, I really didn't pay attention to how big of a bite I took or how many times I chewed it. When it went down I stopped in mid-sentence. I must have had a strange look on my face because my dinning companion asked if I was okay. I sat silently and felt the slimy seafood slowly pass through newly downsized band. Oh yeah, I felt it.

This fill has really got my attention. I'm really thinking about what I eat and how I eat it. I have been following some other bandster blogs and they speak of The Green Zone. This is the supposed place bandsters get where the food gets through and you get the full feeling. At first I thought these people were some kind of fat fog. But now I'm starting to believe.

It's been almost 5 months since my surgery. I've lost about 59 pounds. I feel like I did most of this with little help from the band. I was looking for a little something extra to help me get to the promised land. It looks like I will be going through The Green Zone on my way to Thindom.

Big trip coming up!

Come back for details.

JT

The Right Side of 2

Greetings and salutations my friends and fat followers! I am contacting you today from the other side. No, I am not dead and this is not a creepy seance. I'm talking about the other side of 200 pounds. That's right baby. I finally cracked the elusive 200 number. Mark the date and time fat fans, for this is the first time since the mid 80's that I have had a 1 in front of my weight. This is BIG news indeed. I finally feel like I am accomplishing something.

You may ask "What The H, Johnny. You've lost 56 pounds and you don't fell like you accomplished anything? You've lost half of a person, why the lack of satisfaction?"

Here's why. When you're a scale bustin fatass as I was in April, losing a few pounds here or there is no big deal. My weight used to fluctuate five pounds on any given week depending on how many buffets I hit. Lose 10 pounds. So what. Lose 20 pounds. I'll hardly notice. 30 pounds. That's something, but I was still in the "Biggun" category. Forty pounds ... 50 pounds, great. But what really makes me feel like I'm winning is that 1. Normal people have a 1 in front of their weight. That's the answer. I am approaching NORMAL. Soon to be average. Now THAT means something!

As I previously alluded, I have not had that 1 in front of my weight since the mid 80's. The exact date I busted the deuce mark is not clear to me. Matter of fact, the whole decade is not too clear to me. I was awash in self indulgence. My never ending search for a good time is what got me started on this path to bodily destruction. But that's another story for a different time. So let's use these dates. I remember going on some type of diet and getting down to around 165 pounds. I had a picture taken at this time leaning on a new Delorean. That makes it 1982. Obviously that diet didn't take. It took me a few years to work up the weight ladder. I'm pretty sure it was a chicken wing at a Super Bowl 19 party that pushed me over. That would make it 1985.

1985 - It was a very good year. (I think.) Reagan was still president. Gas was $1.09 a gallon and it only cost $3 to see a movie. Michael Jordon was just a pup and the Bears were stocked with now legendary names like, Fridge, Hamp, Mongo, Mama's Boy and the Punky QB. Things were bouncing back from the dog days of Jimmy Carter and 22% interest rates. There was reason to celebrate. And celebrate I did. Nightly. And usually to excess. I was living the single life. Fast money, fast cars and fast women. Unfortunately, fast food was a daily staple. My bodily empire was beginning to fall and I didn't heed the warnings. The 2 came a lot easier on the way up then the 1 did on the way down.

Let's leave the maudlin memories behind. It's a new day, a new age and a new Johnny. I have lost about 56 pounds since April 9. My weekly weight loss is still averaging about 1.5 pounds per week. I know it's going to get slower as my under metabolized body adjusts to my lower calorie intake. But if I could average 1.25 pounds per week, I will hit hit my goal by March. I planned on this taking one full year. I am on schedule. But just think. What if I kept that Delorean? Maybe I could have got up to 88 miles per hour and zapped my way back to 1982. If only I knew then what I know now.

So Long for now. We'll talk soon.

Johnny T.

Prickly Plateau

Yup. I'm stuck. Not the lap band "I need to toss my cookies" stuck. Weight stuck. I have reached a weight number that I cannot seem to bust through. If you look this phenonenom up in the FatAss World Dictionary, Volume 17, Second Edition, you will find that this is called a plateau.

A plateau for the over active metabolism crowd, is a nice place. The top of a mountain perhaps. Where you can gaze at beautiful vistas and see for miles. A plateau for the overly girthed is quite another matter. It's a tortuous place that plays with your emotions. It's a place that reminds you that your journey ain't easy. In fact, it reminds you that the road in front of you is only going to get harder. Moving off this plateau is metabolism over mind. Sometimes it's just out of your control. It's part of the process. I don't plan on pitching my tent and staying on this plateau. I plan on moving on as fast as possible. So I'll soldier on. Head down, focused on the goal.

Being stuck is about as frustrated as you can get in a weight loss campaign. Here you are doing everything right. Following the same plan that has worked for you for months with good results. Only to get kicked in the nuts with your daily or weekly scale visit. In my case, it's daily. I weigh my self every morning. For the last 10 days or so, my weight has fluctuated back and forth about a pound and a half either way. A couple days ago, I hit the low end and I thought "this is it. I'm gonna break this mark tomorrow." Only when tomorrow came, I bounced back up a pound. ARRGHHH! If my ultra high tech FitBit scale didn't cost so much, I would have flung it out the window. So I kicked it. (Note to self: Kicking your scale hurts and can only do bodily damage. Please refrain from hostile acts of aggression towards said device in the future. Resort to colorful language instead.)

This is also doubly frustrating for me. Why? Because my low weight right now is 200.4 pounds. I have been waiting to get that 1 in front of my weight number. I'm as excited as a kid on Christmas eve to hit that mark. Come to think of it, I'm probably more excited. Hell, a kid only has to wait one year for Christmas. I haven't had a 1 in front of my weight since ... well, I know I still had a record player. I'll have to do some research on this. Suffice to say, it's been a LONG friggin time. So here I sit ... on the door step of a personal milestone. I can only hope that I will break through this barrier by next Monday. If you want to be there for the breaking news. Stand outside my bathroom window around 6:30 a.m. If you don't see a FitBit scale flying through the glass, you know I made it. If not, DUCK!

I will report back from the other side of 2.

Johnny

F. A.

Hi ya'll!

I'm fresh off a 4 day weekend and wanted to get you the up to the minute Johnny news. C'mon, be honest.... how many of you just can't wait for your fanatical fat fix? I thought so.  This blog is like an auto race.  Most of the spectators just come for the crashes. At the very least, I am a cheap version of a reality show. Your own personal rendition of Biggest Loser. Or Survivor. Hey, I got an idea ... What if we combine both of those shows? Let's strand a bunch of fat asses in the middle of no where with no food and the potty mouthed TV chef Paula Dean. We'll call it Fattasy Island. My bet, 7 contestants arrive, only 5 leave. The other 2 will be enjoyed with a homemade tropical marinade. No doubt this will be a huge hit. 

On to the news.

Last Monday I went for monthly follow up visit at the center for Fat-ass-i-ness. As reported last week, I officially hit the 50 pound loss point. Yippee! I have to tell you that I am starting to look and feel a little out of place in the waiting area. I am no longer the short, overly swelled man that enjoyed the extra comfort of the fat ass chairs. I am now just a short, plump man that looks like a little kid sitting in a big chair. Add the fact that I usually wear a suit and tie on Mondays. The waiting wobblers probably think I'm some kind of creepy sales person waiting to show Dr. X my new drugs. But sitting and waiting is part of my commitment. It is part of my rehab. Yup. Rehab. Because that's really what this is. Fataholic's Anonymous. My name is Johnny ... and I'm a fataholic.

Anyone that reads this, and definitely anyone that tries this, must realize what a significant weight loss project really is. It's a full time commitment to food sobriety. Without full dedication to the cause, you are doomed to fail. "Just one Oreo" can be as catastrophic to a fataholic as "just one beer" to the alcoholic. That first step backwards can lead to a tumble. The end of the binge is just as devastating for both. Self consciousness, loss, shame, failure. All the same buzz words. The alcoholic may end his bender in a a tavern with a shot and a beer in the wee hours of the morning. The fataholic may end up in a corner with a jumbo bag of Dorito's and jar of salsa. Self inflicted wounds for both.

The fataholic requires guidance just like his counterpart. We get all the information we need to succeed from our nutritionists, shrinks and doctors. But at the end of the day, it is still on you to watch and motivate yourself. You have to make constant decisions to succeed. Food is not only required to live,it is part of our culture. Think about it. Just about every social gathering includes food. A nice night out with your better half probably includes dinner. A business lunch includes food. Weddings, birthday parties, anniversaries, bar mitzvahs ... you name a social gathering and there will be food. And plenty of it.

How about our addiction to Fat Ass TV? There are several channels that air nothing but food shows 24/7. Then you have Masterchef, Iron Chef,Top Chef and a myriad of other kitchen shows. There is a guy that drives around the country and pigs out at out of the way diners. There are guys that fix broken restaurants and a guy that spies on various eatery's employees. If has to do with food, there is a TV show about it. And these chefs / stars get paid humongous salaries for this! I'm really in the wrong business.

It's easy to see how someone can lose sight of a healthy lifestyle and fall in to the grips of fatness in our country today. Once you get there, going back is bitch. It's a challenge every minute to stay on your selected program.  It's a good thing I have my sober coaches to guide me ... good ol' Al C. Hall and his cousin Vinny Vino.

See you soon..

Johnny

PS I'm at a little plateau here.  The weight loss is slowing down to around a pound per week.  I'm going to have to change something up here next week.

Nifty Fifty

It's official!

I saw Dr. X on Monday for my monthly follow up. I have hit the the 50 pound loss mark. If you really think about it ... that's a whole big bucket of blubber. Fifty pounds is definitely life changing. Just about every aspect of my life has changed. My complete wardrobe (all three levels) are obsolete. My sleep habits have changed ... no more snoring. My exercise went from zero to above moderate. My eating habits have greatly changed for the better. My overall activity level has improved. My blood pressure went down and my resting heart rate is at the GOOD level. I'm only a couple of beats per minute over EXCELLENT and not far from ATHLETE. That's a hoot! So you can probably say that I had a complete makeover. Both in outside appearance and inside my head.  It's the head part that's the hardest to change. I will have to struggle with this for the rest of my life. If I ever give in, it'll be back to the level 3 wardbrobe and I can't afford that. 

Well I think it's time to get a real grip on what 50 pounds of fat ass real is.  We reviewed it at the 40 level and that was kinda fun. And very eye opening. So let's look at fifty.

1) $200 in quarters ( that would be 800 coins) weighs fifty pounds. This begs the question:  What would you rather have? 200 bucks or my ass full of quarters?

2) An average 7 year old child weighs fifty pounds. My kid is growing up right before my eyes. Remember?  He was only 3 at the 40 pound level

3) A bale of hay weighs 50 pounds. My ass weighed about 10 bushells full.

4) A baby pygmy hippo weighs 50 pounds. We can all think of something wittty to say here. Let's leave at this: A few months ago, hanging out with me would be like hanging out with 5 baby hippos.  Less the cuteness. 

5) 2 big sacks of potatos weigh fifty pounds. Formerly easily consumed by me either fried, baked, sauteed, mashed, boiled.  It didn't matter. Also, A potato is the Father of the Chip. Forever whorshipped.

6) A medium pit bull terrier. 50 pounds of sheer muscle. Can't say that about 50 pounds of ass.

7) 5 bowling balls. Yep. Strap 'em on and go up and down the stairs a few times.

It never gets old!  If we had time, I would go around the house and weigh all the appliances.  I know my ass was at least as heavy as your average microwave oven. Or maybe even your refrigerator.  It was big and it was heavy. Now, not so much. Yes, I am still of large ass. But not of fat ass. Hopefully soon, I will be of normal ass. Fret not my friends, I will always be YOUR horse's ass.

Hasta la vista, baby!

Johnny!

P.S. I'm in the game for real now.  Dr. X gave me another full c.c. in the band. I'm at 35% restriction.  I will report any changes soon.

The Brief on Briefs

What's new you ask? 

Quick answer.... underwear! Yup.  I had to replenish my entire supply of unmentionables, even the new ones I got last Christmas. They just weren't doing the job anymore. The always dependable waist bands were stretched beyond repair and my incredible shrinking ass left the backsides saggy and mis-shaped. Not to mention, all security for the family jewels had completely evaporated. I was dealing with an uncomfortable jail break every hour or so. This caused more than a few strange stares from others during what I thought was a private adjusting period. Good thing I wasn't near a Kinder Kare. That would have been hard to explain. So I solved the crisis. I went out and bought some new skivvies.

While this may not seem like a big deal to most of you. It was to me. Reason... I don't think I have bought my own underwear for twenty or so years. Why? Because every year when I am asked what I want for Christmas, I give the standard man-swer. "Underwear". So I get underwear. Every Christmas morning, I march up to my dresser with my new present stack and clean out last years Jockeys for this years models. I guess models is an overstatement. Other than a few new colors, the basic design hasn't changed since I was a kid. I mean, really. What can you do to improve underwear? And why do you need to?

Well imagine my amazement when I came upon the shorts section of my local department store. I was flabbergasted to see rows and rows and racks and racks of man-derwear! So many brands! So many styles! So little time. And the advertisements, oh my! Here I am, fresh off an embarrassing, not so private reorganizing incident, staring at a life size cut-out of a buffed teen lad with come hither eyes hiding nothing but his schvaanzen behind a scanty pair of man-ties. Honestly, I had to look around and make sure some cop wasn't following me. Or some hidden camera from one of those second rate TV shows.

As overwhelmed as I was, I was on a mission! I had to replenish my underwear supply. Two racks over, I spied the familiar Jockey logo. Thank God. I sauntered over thinking I'd pick up my shorts and be on my way. Wrong again. I guess Jockey, in an effort to keep up with times, has totally expanded their product line. Boxer briefs, sports shorts, low rise, high rise, full coverage or tiny pecker pouches. Ugh. After walking around three racks, I finally found the Classic style. Whew. My new size offers me a plethora of color choices. Sure beats the color selection at the old fat man's shop. There used to be three sizes ... FAT, REAL FAT and YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING. And there was only two color choices ... Santa Red and Your Wives's Gonna Kill You White. I always wondered why they would want to see a fat man in red briefs.

Without further adieu, I chose the multi colored 6 pack. Six pairs for the price of three, awesome. I took them to the checkout counter and pulled out a ten spot and expected some change. Wrong again. This paltry pack of panties was over $30! I had to double check the pack and see if there was some kind of vibrating device included. Nope. I pulled out a couple double sawbucks and through those down with the ten spot. I got my poor excuse of change and headed out the door.

I sure have been out of the man shopping game for a long time. And I am about to get a real education about shopping in the new millennium. My current wardrobe is completely nonfunctional. I had hoped to get through to next spring with some heavy alterations and cheap pants. But that ain't gonna happen. It's gonna cost me. I need to buy a functioning intermediate wardrobe. You know it would be nice if the current men's fashion were of the Fred Flintstone variety. Then I would only need one all purpose tunic.

That's all for now.

Johnny

P.S. I see Dr. X today for a weigh in and another fill. Let's hope I get a GOLD STAR again.

A look at the Numb3rs

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Welcome back all you fat ass fanatics! 

The blog is picking up a little steam.  We have over 7,000 visitors from points across the globe. Invite your family and friends to join in this fat ass fun fair! We have room for all. Also, if you know of anybody currently struggling with fat-ass-i-tit-is or considering weight loss surgery, have them stop by as well.  I'm proud to say that my story so far, wacky as it may be, has actually motivated others to start their own flab fight.  Hey, if I can help one person lose one pound, that will be far more than I ever expected to do with a corny weight loss blog. So "CHEERS" to all you new wobbly warriors!

On to this weeks observations.  Let's start with wight loss vs. waist size.  I have noticed that these two do not appear at the same time. During any given week, I may struggle to show a weight loss on the scale. This PO's me something fierce.  Then I put on a pair of new pants and they are too big. I'm perplexed. I didn't lose any poundage yet my pants are looser. Hmmm. And the vice-versa is also true. I can't fit into a new pair of shorts I bought, but I'm losing weight this week. It just never happens on the same day.  But I ain't bitchin! It will all work out in the end.  The rear end.

I've also been playing with numbers in my head.  I wanted to share a few with you.

0- The number / amount of any of my everyday Level 1 wardrobe that fits.  I can only wear my old ties.

1- The number that will be in front of my weight in a couple of weeks for the first time since the 80's.

3- The number of new pants I have that kind of fit.

5- The number of days I have had vodka since April 9. Personal record.

6- The number of inches I have removed from my waistline. Note: I didn't even know I had a waist. Or a neck for that matter.

40.63 - The number of miles I walked last week. A few rounds of golf and a couple airports trips really adds up.

50- The number of pounds lost I will be at in a matter of days.

97,011 - The number of my steps in 40.63 miles.

20,159 - The number of calories I burned last week

(7,173) - The differential of calories in vs, calories out.  According to my friend Dr. S, this should have resulted in about 2-1/2 lb weight loss.  Guess what? It did.

That's just a quick look at the friendly numbers of my journey so far. I think it's pretty good for only

4-1/2 months of calorie counting. I'm pleased. I know I can't get overconfident.  I've already noticed every pound comes off slower than before. I guess my body is adjusting to the new lower fuel intake. That probably means I have to ramp up the calorie burning process. And I hate the "W" word. W as is workout. I know it's part of the process and I'm determined to accelerate my activity level and defeat my inner lazybug. Maybe I'll start tomorrow. Or maybe not.

Weigh-in day next Monday and a fill from Dr. X!  I will certainly be irritated if I don't hit the 50 level by then.  You'll have to come back and see.

Bye now!

Johnny 



Half way to Thindom

It is said that a journey of 1000 miles begins with the first step. I began my journey on April 9, 2013.  That's the day it finally hit me. I was sitting on a plane.  I was an Oreo away from the ultra-embarrassing plea for the belt extender. I could barely fit in the last of my emergency wardrobe. I was tired. Tired of trying to accommodate my fat life style. Because that's what you do. You accommodate your fatness. I just couldn't go on like this. I was ready for a change. I was already through all my hoops for the Lap Band surgery.  I was in limbo waiting for my insurance company to green light me. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I decided .. that minute.. that tomorrow I would start my quest  for Thindom.

Thindom is a mystical place. It’s the fat ass version of Vallhalla, Atlantis and the Lost City of Gold all rolled up in to one. For a fat person, Thindom is a legend. It is a utopian place that the over -girthed can only dream about. No fat ass has ever been to Thindom and come back to talk about it.  Many expanded explorers have tried, but all have failed.  It is said that those that enter Thindom, are blessed with a new life filled with hope and joy. Everyone smiles and beams with optimism. It is a place where one size really does fit all. It’s heaven for the hefty.




The mystical city of Thindom

 

But beware you of fatness! The trail to Thindom is wrought with danger.  There are obstacles at every turn. Unknown creatures and mythical beings lurk in the shadows; their only goal is your defeat. To get to Thindom, you must soldier through these adversities. You must plan your adventure carefully. And you can NEVER look back. You can NEVER give up. There is no yellow brick road.  There is only nachos and cheese.

I have made it half way to Thindom. I’m currently navigating my way through the evil forest of fat. I can see the magical mountains of Munchies in the distance. Once I cross their jagged peaks, I hope to spy the valley of Thindom. I know it is there. I can feel it.

Alas, my journey has had its ups and downs. I have danced with the Devil. I have succumbed to the liquid offerings of Al C. Hall. I have fought the beautiful temptress and her sultry offers of  cheeseburger and fries. I have dueled with the Duke of Doughnuts. Yes friends, there have been pitfalls. But every time I fell, I got up. The demons in my mind have not deterred me from my goal.

I have managed to shed 45 pounds of unsightly blubber.  I have 41 to go to hit my goal. If my present pace continues, I will have a 1 in the front of my weight in a few weeks for the first time since Reagan was president. Yes, I know. The road to Thindom gets harder as you get closer to the gate.  I hope it’s not just fat ass folklore. When I get there, I will try to contact you from the other side. I wonder if Thindom has wi-fi?

Until we meet again….

Johnny T

Gold Star / Rock Star

Thursday, July 31, 2013

Hello readers from all across the globe!  It's great to see that we have fat fans growing in numbers by the week! Folks from China, Russia, Latvia, Netherlands, Canada, the UK, France and a few other far away countries have stopped by the blog to catch up on my fight against flab. When it comes to the battle of the bulge, it seems the world shares in our morbid obsession with thinness. We all speak the same language ... Fat-lish.

On to the news of the week.  I went for second post-op doctor visit on Monday.  As usual, I checked in right on time knowing full well that I would be lingering in the lobby of the Center for Fatassiness well past my scheduled appointment time. So I settled in to one of the fat ass chairs in the waiting room. I immediately noticed that I occupied far less space in this overly ample seat. Yes, my ass has shrunk.  I'm guessing by about a half a foot. I kinda feel like a little kid sitting in grandpa's chair.

If you recall, Mondays are Dr. X's office days.  He sees both pre-op and post-op patients during this time. That is why I just can't help myself but to look around the waiting area and see what the doctor has scheduled for today. Over to the far left, I spy an elephantine teen boy nervously sitting next to who I presume to be his mom. Obvious pre-op material. I'm thinking "Don't fret dude. It will be worth it. I wish they had this when I was your age." Looking far right I see a fleshy female with her nose buried in a book. Hmmmm. I'm guessing follow up. Then the extra wide doors fly open and a smiling 30 something man in clothes at least two sizes to big saunters out. Definitely a post-opper!

I was called in a few minutes after a Rascal bound lady. When I went in and sat at the first nurses’ station, I saw no sight of the scooter.  She must be in the pre-op room waiting for the sales pitch from Dr. X. On cue, he walks towards the closed door with his plastic stomach model. The same one he used for my initiation.
"Close that deal Doc!" I quipped.
He didn't say anything.  He didn't need to.  He gave me a wry smile, a thumb up and went in to the room with a nervously awaiting prospect and a Rascal. Easy sale.

It was now time for me to get my vitals. No temperature. BP 117/77 (That went down about  6 or 7 points on both ends. The nurse asked me if I was 18!) Now to the scale.  Off with the loafers, step on to the massive industrial scale ..... AND..... 97.2 Kilos! It kinda kills the drama when the kilo measure comes up. Especially because I can't do the math that fast in my head.
"How much have I lost since my first visit?" I asked.
"Oh, I don’t have that file here." she answers.
"How many files do I have?" I inquired.
"I'm not sure. Ask the doctor." she tells me.
Must be some kind of union thing.  Maybe she's only allowed to carry one file to avoid a workplace injury.

After my vitals check, I was deposited in another room.  I know the drill now. First a visit from the bubbly Ms. K, my nutritionist, then the syringe wielding Dr. X will make his appearance. This room has both a fat ass chair and a fat ass recliner in addition to the exam table. Wonder why? Maybe it's for the portly patient and his pleasingly plump pal. Whatever ... just seems strange to me.

The door bursts open and an extra bubbly Ms. K enters and has a seat at the desk next me.

"Wow. You look like you're doing great!" she spouts.
"I think I'm doing Ok." I reply sheepishly.
"Let's look at your progress." she says. "Awesome! You have lost 8 pounds since last visit and 41 pounds total! You get a gold star!"

That made my day. I thought I was doing OK. But what do I know? I think I'm 22 and gorgeous. Just because I think it doesn't make it so. So her validation was excitedly welcomed. We proceeded to go over my average daily food intake.  I told her I was doing the 1200 calorie a day deal. I showed her my FitBit Flex and the MyFitnessPal app and how they sync up. She was impressed and green lighted me to continue what I'm doing because it's working. That's cool with me. We exchanged the usual farewell pleasantries and I was back to waiting for the main attraction.

Without further ado, Dr. X gregariously enters.
"I hear you’re a rock star." He opens up with.
"I'm just trying to stay focused." I say.
"Well, you're doing great. 8 pounds since last month is great."

I think I was beaming like a new father. People rarely get this kind of validation from others, especially from their fatoligist.

We discussed my progress, my hunger level and my ability to get food down and keep it down.
"So you're not really felling any restriction?" he asks.
"Nope. I think I could swallow a live fish if I had to.” I replied.

“We don’t want it to come to that. Let’s give you a little tune up.”

I laid down and a few seconds later I had one more c.c. of saline restriction.  Dr. X gave me a few warnings about staying on liquids that night and pureed foods the next.  After a few more words of encouragement, he was off to the next case.

Needless to say, my second fill appointment was a success. I’m glad the bubbly Ms. K and Dr. X are pleased with my progress. As great as all the back slaps and accolades are, I can’t lose sight of the fact that I am not even half way home yet. There is still a lot of work to be done. I have definitely noticed that every pound is harder to lose than when I started.  And I know they will be even harder as I lose more. So, yea, I’m happy with the visit. But no, I am in now overconfident in my success.

As I was leaving the exam room, I spotted that Rascal sitting unguarded in the hall. For a fleeting second I had thought of nabbing it, throwing on a fat ass chair and making a break for the parking lot. But my new reality set in. I don’t need the fat ass chair anymore, But I sure could have a blast on that Rascal!

Bye for now.

Johnny

The Big 4-0!

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Yep, the Big 4-0! As much as I wish that was my current age, alas it is not.  That ship sailed many moons ago, some where around the Bill Clinton no sex incident. But it is the number of unsightly pounds that I have shredded since I began this journey on April 9th.  My deconstruction has been in full swing for 15 weeks. If we look back to my first appointment in January, I have been fully encompassed with this project for 7 plus months, over half a year. Time does fly.

Let's talk about what 40 pounds really is.

A 15 foot canoe weighs 40 pounds. FYI - My old ass would never fit in a canoe. The kids at camp always made me go in the big boat.

An average 3 year old child and a full size Soft Coated Wheaton Terrier each weigh 40 pounds. In case you're wondering, I did check. A strange kid or a lost dog was not wedged in my butt crack.

An average full size human leg weighs 40 pounds. Really? I think one of my legs is the average weight of a full size human.

5 gallons of water weighs 40 pounds. Did you ever try to replace the big bottle on the water cooler? They're friggin heavy. It takes 2 skinny kids in my office to change it.

2 car tires weigh 40 pounds. Wow. I've been wearing two radials around my mid section.  My goal is to lose a whole set of tires .... and the spare. Yikes.

4 ten pound bowling balls weigh 40 pounds.  Try carrying those up and down the stairs a few times.

Need we go on? It's mind blowing to me that this much excess blubber was attached to my paltry frame. AND I'm not even half way done! I still gotta lose at least a kid and a Chihuahua to hit my goal.

Remember the guy who said " I treat my body like a temple."  That obviously wasn't me.  I've treated my body more like an all night diner. Attached to a liquor store. Years of binge eating, binge drinking and party chasing have come back to haunt me. There's always a price to pay.  Reminds me of that 70s era bumper sticker: "Gas, Grass or ass, nobody rides for free."

The good news is that I should hit the half way mark to my goal some time next week. If I average losing 1-1/2 pounds per week I should hit goal near the end of January. In the mean time, if your missing a kid or a Labrador Retriever, I'll bend over and give you look in my handy lost & found area.

Chow Chow!

Johnny

P.S. I see Dr. X Monday for another fill.  I'm guessing he's going to take me up another 1.5 ccs.  That will be a 30% closure on the band.  Another new adventure.

Simple Math for a Simple Mind

Thursday, July 17, 2013

I need to get ya'll up to date.  I have been a bit behind my updates due to a busy schedule. Last week's busy-ness included another 3 day golf event and a lengthy visit from Al. C. Hall. As always, there is good and bad news to report. On the bright side, I really made good food choices and my personal technology says I walked 21.36 miles and burned 9711 calories during this 3 day period.  However, I did enjoy more than several adult beverages and succumbed to a few bar snacks.  Unfortunately, I think these transgressions shortened my weekly weight loss. But I'm back up on the horse and ready to get going again.

Now I want to share a little tidbit of information I casually picked from a doctor acquaintance of mine.  After a laid back round of Sunday couples golf, our group headed off for a mid day meal. Conversation soon turned to my quest to be less fat. I explained to the good doctor my calorie counting strategy and my progress so far. She then dropped a fun fact on me that really hit home. The affable Dr. S contends that you need to burn 3000 more calories for the week than you take in to lose 1 pound. Simple genius! Not only is this easy is to understand for my neanderthal intelligence level, it's also a number. A number than can be used in a math equation to help me better understand what exactly I'm doing here. Fact is, I have been really concentrating on what's going in the ol' pie hole. I really haven't thought about the going out process. I suppose I have typical fat ass thinking. Eat less. Lose weight. Is it that simple? Kinda. But there's more to it.



FitBit Flex

I have embraced technology to help me find Slim Street. I have 2 items that I now find essential for me to finish the filleting of my fat. First, the MyFitnessPal app (MFP). I use the daily food diary to keep track of every morsel that goes in my massive yapper. If I can't find exactly what I ate in the index, I err on the high side.  My second technological necessity is my FitBit Flex. Don't ask me how, but this little peanut size device records every step I take and figures my daily calorie burn. This miniature device syncs with the FitBit app on my phone which syncs with my FitBit scale which syncs with the MyFitnessPal app. I have all the data crunching tech I need.

But I needed the numbers to make sense to me. And Dr. S's simple equation is helping me do that.

MyFitneesPal app

Let's do the math!  Time to brush up on your a-fat-ma-tic. I have chosen a 1200 calorie a day diet plan. That would be 8400 calories in per week. Dr. S's tip mandates that I burn 12,900 (3000 + 1500 =4500) per week to lose 1-1/2 pounds. Divided by 7, that's 1842 calories per day! Now... Let's recall what Trainer L told me during my pre-op exercise visit. She said my body burns 1650 calories a day with just normal activity. That means I only have to burn an extra 200 calories a day to lose the 1-1/2 pounds.  Simple math for a simple mind.

It's starting to dawn on me that I can burn more than 12,900 calories a week, especially in the summer. Heck, last week I burned 19,800 calories according to my FitBit. The MFP app has another nice feature. When you're done logging your calories for the day, it will calculate burn and show you what you will weigh in 5 weeks if every day was like today. So far, it's been right on target. It's telling me that I will lose another 10 pounds by the end of August. Awesome news.

So take it from me. Do your math and embrace your technology. I'm no Bill Gates when it comes to these fancy gadgets and I surly ain't no math wizard. But I will embrace anything that will help me finish my fight against flab. And guess what?  There's an app for that.

More to come....

Johnny