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