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





NSV's

Monday, July 15, 2013

Welcome back! Are you ready for your weekly beefy brief from your pudgy pundit? Ready or not, here comes another rant for the rotund.

Let's start with a recap of the just past 4th of July holiday weekend. I will say it was a definite challenge!  The old Johnny would have gained at least 5 pounds by feasting on ribs, burgers, fatty salads and sugary desserts during this fat-a-topia.  I would have also had my Jimmy Buffet margarita maker working overtime rendering the frozen concoction that helps me hang on. Sunny summer holidays are the perfect excuse for gluttony of both food and drink. The good news is the New and Improved Johnny made it safely through this fat fest and actually lost 1-1/2 pounds. Whew!

Let's get on with the NSV's.  While a weekly weight loss is the ultimate goal, there are also other rotund rewards along the journey that are a by product of the weight loss. We call 'em Non Scale Victories.  Hence the NSV.  This comes from the fat ass secret code book.  (Don't tell anyone I let you in on it.)

I have had a few NSV's since I started my juggily journey. Mostly of the clothes variety. If we flashback to the day I got off the plane from Florida in early April, we will recall I was about 1 biscuit away from invoking my Level 3 emergency clothes protocol. That would have meant wearing only sweat pants and a moo moo. In other words, I was out of any wardrobe that I could wear out in public. Mercifully, I started my own pre-op -  pre-op diet. My doctor wanted me to wait, but I didn't have an option. It worked. I was safely in my Level 2 fat wardrobe in a couple of weeks. I could work with this limited collection, so emergency averted.  NSV number 1.

In a couple more weeks, I found that my normal wardrobe (Level 1) was beginning to fit again.  I was no longer gasping for air while wearing a tie and the threat of a sudden injury caused by a flying button from my pants had receded. I also found my golf shorts and casual shirts were no longer making me look like a stuffed sausage. I could feel the difference.  NSV number 2.

Then around the end of May, people started noticing that my fleshy face was starting to look smaller.  I had a couple flabby friends ask me what me secret was. This made me take a good look at myself in the mirror. Wow!  I could see the difference.  I guess I was in a kind of fat fog and didn't pay attention. My body was changing. The good way this time. Another NSV.

But I now I'm dealing with a couple unexpected consequences. Firstly, my golf swing has gone to hell.  After 30 years of playing this stupid game, it's like I never swung a club before.  My new, smaller body has really messed up my timing. Secondly, after 3 months of dieting and a loss of 38.5 pounds, my spiffy Level 1 wardrobe is starting to look huge on me.  Seriously, I'm dressing up in my best stuff and it looks like I shop at Hobo Junction.  People that don't know me are probably thinking my clothes are donated and I'm homeless. But I'm not complaining! These are GOOD problems.

I knew the time for an intermediate wardrobe was coming. It kinda snuck up on me. I think I have another couple weeks at most with Level 1.  Then it's on to the Marshall's and Steinmarts. I just need some cheap clothes to get me through to my final landing weight.  Then I'll start the real restocking.

So if you see a svelter looking guy in over sized clothing walking around, don't feel bad for him. It's either me or dieting fat ass hobo.

More soon!

Johnny 

  

When Did You Know?

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Happy Independence Day to all my American followers! Ah, another holiday brimming with awesome BBQs, cold beer and delectable desserts. A regular fat ass nightmare. And it's on a Thursday. Which means 4 days of ducking and dodging hot dogs, hamburgers, fries and ice cream. Not to mention Al. C. Hall. He's always the first to be invited to every party. After all, a party without Al is really more of a church meeting. I will have to be extra cautious this week.  We can't have Johnny taking a dive off the food truck. (That's the fat ass version of the wagon.) 

Today's rant answers the "when did you know" question. I have touched on this in the past, but maybe you're ready for a clearer understanding. For years now, I have been asked "when did you first notice you were over weight"? It's on every medical history you fill out for any doctor and always asked by the over-active metabolism crowd.

Here's my best answer. Had I the capacity of cognitive thinking, I would have noticed at age 6 months or so when mom had to move me in to the "chubby baby" size diapers. Unfortunately I was too distracted at the time by the creepy stuffed bear that kept staring at me and that horrendous mobile thing constantly twirling above my head playing the same song over and over again. I was too traumatized to realize I was busting out of my skinny diapers. If only I could have read the "New Chubby Baby Size" blurb on the diaper box. Who knows?  Maybe I would have started on low cal Gerber's.

In blissful denial, I moved into my early childhood. We all know I had to wear man size cub scout pants with three feet cut off the legs.  And yes, we know I was further traumatized when my ass knocked over the stacked milk cartons in grammar school. I talked about those incidents in earlier posts. But there were other signs that my blissful denial refused to let me see.  As I grew older (and wider), I used to try on shirts with the "HUSKY" tag on the sleeve.  I always got mad when they took the that tag off.  I thought it was a cool logo. Like the alligator or the swoosh. I could never fit in the shirts with the little penguin. I should have known then I had an issue.

Another sign I should have picked up on was my inability to comfortably fit in the normal child desk provided to me by my school. Remember the desk with the attached chair with the top that hinged open forward? Every other kid had no problem lifting that lid and getting to their books and supplies.  My expanding ass and belly prevented me from using this desk as designed. I had to carefully slide off the chair, open the lid and then carefully slide back in. In hindsight, I think I should have took the hint.

There were other signs that I ignored along my pudgy path. One of the last glowing signs I remember came when I went to join the pee wee football league. I showed up at the designated time with all the proper paperwork and was ready to start my football career. Unfortunately, there was a weigh in and I failed. I was rejected by the pee wee football team because I was too "husky". WTF? How can a guy be too fat to play football? Bottom line is they were afraid I would smush the little kids when I jumped on the tackle pile.  I ended up playing for a fat ass kid's league three towns over. Another hint missed.

I didn't just wake up one day and discover I had an elephant size ass and a hippo's stomach. I've know since my bottle sucking days that I was well above average in the girth department.  Obviously I should have started getting serious about weight loss then. I may have been able to avoid going to Uncle Vito's Big & Tall for my prom tuxedo.

See ya soon.

P.S  My official Fitbit scale says I have dropped 35 pounds of blubber since April 9th.  50 more to go.