I'm fat. /react-text
react-text: 8330 Well, I'm not /react-text really react-text: 8332 fat, but I could certainly stand to lose twenty pounds or so. I’ve lost a lot, but like a lot of people, I’m finding that the last twenty pounds can be a real bitch to lose. /react-text
A while back, I gained a lot of weight. I blamed it on the medications the doctors were giving me, with some justification. My doctors said I was eating too much. We were both right, and so I decided to change my eating habits.
I did the research and concluded that a low-carb diet was the best way to lose weight. If I can keep myself to less than twenty carbs a day, I can lose twelve pounds in just two weeks. The problem is that by the end of two weeks, I would be willing to kidnap your first-born child and hold him or her for the simple ransom of a bag of Cheez-its.
When I first tried this diet, I couldn't believe that you could eat all the protein and fat you wanted and still lose weight. I love fat and protein, so I gave it a try. I was going to test this baby to the max.
The first day, I cooked a small sirloin steak for breakfast; I covered it with four fried eggs and half a pound of bacon on the side. That night I had roast beef and genoa salami for dinner, with some cheddar cheese for a snack. I wasn't hungry, and I lost six pounds the first week without any exercise. Great, I thought, this is for me!
Not so fast. This is the most incredibly boring diet on the planet. While it's fun for a while because you can eat as much as you want, it's not very long before you don't want anything but a piece of toast. But you can't have the toast . . . or pasta, or a potato, or that handful of M&Ms. Nevertheless, I slogged on, and miraculously, after a few months, I've lost 43 pounds. I'm looking so good that small animals cross the street just to be near me.
The problem is, I've been stuck with the last twenty for some time now. I'm not gaining weight, but I'm not losing weight either. Some of my clothes are still too tight, and the rest of them look like they were sewn by Omar the Tentmaker.
I know what my problem is; I just haven't done anything about it. My problem? I like an adult beverage in the evening. Or maybe several. For some time now, my drink of choice has been a Black Russian which is simply vodka and Kahlua with a lot of ice. Vodka's not so bad, but Kahlua? Man, that stuff is almost pure sugar, but damn, it sure tastes good! It's very sweet, however, and I don't like a sweet aftertaste. The best way to get rid of that sweet taste is with crackers and cheese. Take a sip of the cocktail, then have two Triscuits with a slice of cheddar. Repeat as necessary . . . and boy, does it become necessary. Usually, I'm pretty good about what I eat all day, but when I sit down at night, the devil on my left shoulder takes over and tells me I'm never going to lose the last twenty pounds, but it's okay—I can start tomorrow.
I'm also not working hard to lose the extra weight out of my concern for the earth and humanity. Remember how they used to tell us that if everyone in China jumped into the air at the same time, when they came down, the earth's orbit would change? My theory is that if every one of the 7 billion people on earth lost twenty pounds, we would collectively lose around 140 billion pounds, or 70 million tons, and I'm worried that it would change the orbit of the planet and speed up global warming. By having my Black Russian, I am literally saving the world. You're welcome.