It's my state's fault

Forget blue states and red states. I live in a fat state.

So do most of you, according to a study released yesterday. In fact, every state in the nation except for Oregon, is getting fatter. (The study didn't include Hawaii, but if you've ever grazed at a pupu platter...well, you know the results). Mississippi is the fattest state, Colorado is the skinniest and 7 of the top 10 states are in the Southeast.

I live in the fattest state in the Midwest: Michigan. (We're tied for sixth with Texas, where I spend a lot of time on business.)

Hmmm. Suddenly, it's all coming together. I know what I must do: Move, or sue.

Frankly, moving isn't much of an option. I've got kids, an ex-wife who I share custody with, work, and a few friends here. I also like my house, my neighborhood and my previously noted affliction for late night Yesterdogs.

That leaves the litigation option, which actually could work. I mean, it's not unprecedented. A few years ago a doughy black guy tried suing a bunch of fast food joints for his girth issues. That strikes me as over-the-top. McDonald's is a corporation and we live in a free-market society. If you demand burgers, Mickey D's will supply them.

But a state is an entirely different matter. As citizens, we entrust our public officials to create a safe haven for us. And that starts at the top with the Governor.

Now, I'm not sure I could convince a jury to find fault with our current Governor, Jennifer Granholm, because she's pretty svelte and she's Canadian. Those people drink beer and eat bacon constantly, and nary a pound is gained.

But our previous Guv -- John Engler -- well, he was a bit of a doughy white guy himself. I met him a few times. Nice guy (and he did hang out with Canadians occasionaly), but the bottom line is that there has to be some accountability here. I packed on 70 pounds during his three terms! I'd love to put him on the (reinforced) stand and let the jury decide.

Anyone care to contribute to my legal defense fund? (DWG Weight: 232 lbs.)

Don't hate you because you're beautiful

Are doughy white girls being exploited by corporate America?

New ad campaigns by Dove and Nike that feature "real women" are stirring things up, which is exactly what the soap and shoemakers want.. so they can sell more soap and shoes. The Dove ads, which tout a line of firming lotions, feature women in their underwear. What makes the ads different is that the women are anywhere from size 6 to a 12. The Nike ads feature close ups of body parts and headlines like, "My butt is big." ("My butt is big/Like the letter C/And ten thousand lunges/Have made it rounder.")

Okay, when you look past the fact that the average American woman is a size 14 and that the rhyming in the Nike ads sucks, you come back to the simple fact that it's fashion advertising. And women, no matter how thin and beautiful -- or larger and "real" -- they are, always seem to look in the mirror and find their little flaws. The ad cats know that. That's why the supermodel waifs, mammoth-breasted Victoria's Secret girls and airbrush artists get so much work.

Dove and Nike know that and, in their own way, they're still playing on the insecurity factor. Instead of "Wow, that Uma chick is hot. Maybe if I buy that lotion, my skin will look like hers," the new "real women" ads seem to promote a message of, "Wow, that girl looks kinda like me, except she's happy. Maybe if I buy that new Dove firming cream, I won't hate my body."

When you look at it that way, the "real women" ads are kind of insidious. (Of course, that may be just a guy's rationale for more ads with hot skinny chicks.)

In any case, I don't get it. I don't see an ad with Marcus Shackenberg or whatever his name is and think, "I want to be like him." I see an ad with golfer John Daley in and say, "I AM like him. Hmmm. What should I have for dinner?" (DWG Weight: 232 lbs.)

What's it going to take?

I need help...and I'm willing to make it worth your while. I'll send you a very cool Pillsbury Doughboy t-shirt for free if you can help me lose 15 pounds by the end of September. I don't care how you do it. Offer advice. Tell me your hardluck story. Shame me into it. Post motivational comments. Post snarky comments. Whatever. I'll pick the top three and send each a shirt.

Why the sudden, desperate cry for help? It started yesterday morning. I was at the gym, running on the treadmill. I was actually running pretty fast (for me anyway), breathing hard and the sweat was just drenching me. All of a sudden, the girl who works there -- a very lean, twentysomething personal-trainer type with short shorts -- comes up to me and says, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I wheezed. "Why?"

"Do you want me to turn the fan on for you?"

"No thanks, I'm okay."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to overheat or anything."

I assured her I was okay and kept running. I have to admit, though, that I was a little more self-conscious. I wondered if it looked like I was out of control running at an 8-minute mile pace. Maybe from her perspective, I was a slight stumble away from being rocketed backwards onto the slightly voluptous woman ellipticizing behind me. The personal trainer girl was probably having visions of trying to extricate the doughy woman and me from a tangle of equipment and MP3 headphone cords. I slowed my pace and just jogged for about 10 more minutes. Then I lifted weights and left.

It was a busy day at work, and the incident kind of vanished from my consciousness. After work, I met a buddy of mine for a few beers. I hadn't seen this guy in about five years, and he remarked that I looked good. I said I'd lost about 15 pounds recently, forgetting that the last time I'd seen him I was actually about 10 pounds lighter than I am today.

"Oh really," he said. "You lost 15 pounds, you say?"

"Yeah, about that. I was almost 250."

"Well, that's good you're losing weight. You've always been kind of ample," he said.

Ample. What the fuck is that? The living space in a house can be ample. The evidence in a criminal law case can be ample. A reward can be ample. But me? I know I'm doughy...even overweight. But ample? Sheesh.

So any progress I've made -- the 15 pounds lost, the 30-minute 5K time, the reductions in pant size and chloresterol -- well, it ain't enough. I need to get serious as a heart-attack about this now, or I'm going to just throw the hands in the air (and hope that box of Krispy Kremes land in them). It's now or never.

So post away. And while you're at it, link to my website so I can get maximum input. I'll be waiting. (DWG Weight: 232 lbs.)

Starved

Watched “Starved” on FX the other night. It’s billed as a “dark comedy” about four New Yorkers who have eating disorders: a bulimic black cop; an obese writer, a recovering anorexic (the only female), and a commodities broker who’s a compulsive overeater. They attend a support group where they get yelled at (“It’s NOT okay!”) and get electroshock therapy when they touch their comfort foods. They hang out at a diner and banter a la Seinfeld, sans the comedy. They pull brownies out of the trash can. They go home alone to eat a huge meal with a nice glass of wine…and puke.

This is FX at it’s finest. The network that created "Nip/Tuck" has outdone itself with "Starved." In the first 8 minutes, we’re treated to scenes about male anal stimulation, high colonics, binging and purging, a dominatrix, spanking, electroshock, and penis-shaped baked goods (“a cock cake”). Of course, it all gets wrapped up in 22 minutes.

Frankly, watching "Starved" is a little bit like going to the blues bar. You generally feel better hearing about someone else's problem. Not sure I'll be a regular viewer myself, but I'd recommend you watch it just to see how far the edges of television content are being pushed. It probably won't make you vomit, but likely won't fill you up either. (DWG Weight: 233 lbs.)

Soda ban at schools 30 years too early

Lots of media noise yesterday about the American Beverage Association's announcement of voluntary guidelines to restrict the sale of soda pop in schools. Seems to me like they're missing the point. My 13-year old son plays hockey, football, baseball, basketball, taekwondo, drums and XBOX all day long. He would drink two 2-liters of Sprite every day (if I let him) and never gain a pound. It's physics, people.

He's not the issue. The sale of carbonated sugar water ought to be restricted in offices around the country, where sedentary workers gulp down 140-calorie shots of Coke and Pepsi all day between emails and phone calls. I used to weigh 170 lbs. before I started drinking 5-6 cans of pop at work everday. I never ever ever had soda at school when I was growing up. All we had was warm milk or the drinking fountain to wash down the sloppy joe and swiss steak. Mmmm. Swiss steak. (DWG Weight: 233 lbs.)

No wonder I've been feeling so emotional

Wasn't feeling very motivated to exercise today. Read this story, though, which notes, "A fat man undergoes a process of feminization: hormones in the fatty tissue turn into estrogen, the female hormone...Fat men suffer from health problems, have difficulties maintaining relationships, and suffer from prejudice at work - and on top of all this they suffer from sexual dysfunction. A surplus of female hormones, blockage of blood vessels and possible diabetes, shortage of breath - all enemies of the erection and sexual pleasure...Self image problems are worse. The drooping potbelly 'buries' the male organ inside the folds of fat and makes it look smaller." Great. Man-titties, E.D. and a belly that has a "slimming effect" on my penis. Ended up running for 40 minutes. (DWG Weight: 232 lbs.)

The Bloomberg Diet

New York Mayor Mike Bloomberg, who has a reported weakness for red wine and Nathan's Famous hot dogs, has thrown his weight behind behind a plan to help other New Yawkers trim down and not keel over from a heart attack. The city's Dept. of Healthy and Mental Hygiene is calling for restaurants to eliminate trans fats, found in partially hydrogenated vegetable oils, from their ingredient lists. The change would help fight heart disease, the city's biggest killer since Mayor Rudy helped cut the homicide rate in the '90s.

The citywide trans fat attack wasn't the only item on the Mayor's political diet recently. Bloomberg also attended a ribbon-cutting last week for Weight Watchers, which opened a new HQ in Manhattan's Flatiron District, bringing 100 new jobs to the city from Long Island. And efforts to shed a bit of his own fat were reported in a New York Times story over the weekend. According to aides, Bloomberg has lost 10 pounds and is getting ready for the upcoming campaign season, where he'll no doubt be downing plenty of chicken dinners.

One tip from the DWG: Given your weiner weakness, quit hanging around guys like world hot-dog eating champion Takeru Kobayashi (right) and IFOCE-ranked contender Eric "Badlands" Booker. (IFOCE, by the way, stands for International Federation of Competitive Eating...probably my best shot at a medal of any sort in 2005) (DWG Weight: 232 pounds)

Pillsbury Doughboy may have eating disorder

Poppin’ Fresh, the diminutive doughboy shill for Pillsbury, may be suffering from a serious eating disorder, according to a recent analysis by health experts.

Based on his reported height (8 ¾ inches) and weight (14 oz.) the Doughboy’s calculated body mass index (BMI) is a mere 9.6, which puts him below that of even Mary Kate Olsen. By comparison, someone in a normal weight range has a BMI in the 18.5 to 24.9 range. Anything below 18.5 is considered “underweight.”

While we can’t speculate on the cause of this disturbing weight issue, some have tied it to the Doughboy’s purported use of laxatives. Others point to his HipHop lifestyle, often downplayed by his corporate patrons at General Mills.

Known as “Poppin’ F” among rappers, the 40-year old pitchman began freestyling in his commericals a few years back. Soon, rappers like OutKast and Kool G. Rap were paying tribute and, not long afterwards, there were rumors about East Coast involvement in the disappearance of the Doughboy's wife and kids. Then, a few years back, the Doughboy's own demise was reported in what turned out to be just another Internet hoax.

The Doughy White Guy has started a fund so Poppin' F can get help. To contribute, purchase a Doughboy t-shirt (available only in XL) from the Doughy White Guy blog. Cost is $20, which includes shipping & handling. For information, email me at TheDWG@aol.com. (DWG Weight: 233 lbs.)

Missing the Point

It's been suggested that I'm blogging about this goofy, nonpersonal stuff to avoid dealing with the real issue: my weight. The fact that I haven't run since Saturday's race is pointed to as further proof that I'm finding busy work rather than working out.

"You should write about your personal struggle to lose weight," a female friend suggests.

Hey, this ain't Cosmo or Redbook. Guys don't "share" their personal struggles. We do important stuff like tracking the NHL trades and seeing who's on The Daily Show tonight (Andre from OutKast). We check email. Oh yeah, and work. Gosh, some people just miss the point. (DWG Weight: 234 lbs.)

Pooped Out

Yesterday, the Girlie (a friend of mine) repeated a line she'd heard in a meeting. The woman who said it was trying to get everyone on the same page for a project, when she spouted: "We all need to get our poop in a group."

Okay. What the fuck does that mean? Poop in a group? I went ahead and Googled it. Sure enough, there are like four pages of results, including a reference in a rather weighty looking report on expanding tourism in Montanta. (Note to Montana officials, fecal references are not good tagline material here in the Midwest).

Then again, poop-oriented cliches do abound. There's the underutilized "Did a pigeon poop in your ears?" The allusion to the act itself with the popular, "I dropped the kids off at the pool." And, of course, the familiar "Don't be a party pooper!" (Which is kind of gross if you visualize the accused literally ruining the festivities with a bowel movement).

I'm asking any visitors to the DWG: What's the most disgusting and/or obscure cliche you've heard? Doesn't have to refer to poop. Thanks. (DWG Weight: 234 lbs.)

Does it cost $7,000 to join a gym?

The more you weigh, the less they pay. A new study finds that many overweight U.S. workers make less than their slimmer counterparts in the same jobs, in part to cover the costs of health insurance. As the price of health insurance has risen, the wage gap for obese workers more than tripled over a nine-year period, from $1 an hour to $3.40, a report by Jay Bhattacharya and M Kate Bundorf of the National Bureau of Economic Research reveals. That's more than $7,000 a year, which, all things being equal, could buy that employee a pretty good membership at the gym.

Models Wanted

Know any fat, bald, middle-aged, male golfers to star in the new Lambrini ad? Apply at www.lambrini.co.uk. That's a serious offer from British beverage firm Halewood, in response to a regulatory handslap for an earlier ad featuring three female hotties and a studly male model. The Advertising Standards Association claimed the ad for Lambrini, a sparkling alcoholic beverage, implied that drinking it brought sexual/social success because the man in the ad looks "quite attractive and desirable" to the girls. The ASA also noted: "If the man was clearly unattractive, we think that this implication would be removed."

Clearly offended (or perhaps just seeing a PR opportunity), Halewood CEO John Halewood created the contest and encouraged "Lambrini Girls" -- ie, his target customers -- to submit their doughy boyfriends and husbands as potential ad models. (DWG Weight: 234 lbs.)

Big Fat Lies?

"Food cops, trial lawyers, and pharmaceutical interests looking to write their own prescription for fat profits have hitched their wagons to obesity hype. But new research has again debunked the linchpin of unwarranted obesity panic -- the since-dismissed claim that excess weight leads to 400,000 deaths each year." Wow. That sounds like good news from the Center for Consumer Freedom, a nonprofit group funded by restaurants and food companies. Hey, wait a minute... (Weight 234 lbs.)

Eat. Forget. Smoke. Eat.

Two studies on the wire today that present conflicting -- nay, confounding -- data. A study by University of Washington researchers reports that obese people are more likely to develop Alzheimer's. Meanwhile, scientists at Madrid's Cajal Institute released it's own study claiming that marijuana's active ingredient -- cannabinoids -- can help prevent the brain problems seen in Alzheimers. So let's get this straight: You eat. You get fat. You get Alzheimers. The doctor prescribes smoking pot, which makes you want to... (Weight: 234 lbs).

Clinton's Cellulite Crusade

Former President Bill Clinton told CNN yesterday that a lifetime of unhealthy eating led to his “brush with death” last year and inspired his crusade to improve Americans’ diets. Recalling his quadruple heart bypass surgery in September 2004, Clinton said: “I realized that one more time I’ve been given another chance, and I wanted to make the most of it. The bottom line is we’ve got too many kids too overweight and they’re walking time bombs.” Clinton told host Dr. Sanjay Gupta that he was a chubby child growing up in Arkansas. “I was the fat band boy,” he said.

Less BMI = More ROI

Overweight Americans who lose a lot of weight also tend to build more wealth as they drop the pounds, according to Ohio State researcher Jay Zagorsky. His new study found that the link between weight loss and wealth gains was particularly strong among white women. (So, think twice before you blow off that BBW in the bar.) And before you go on a crash diet and start selling Amway, take note of this quote from Zagorsky, who tips the scales at 195 pounds: “If you really want to impact your wealth, you have to move from overweight or obese into the normal range,” he said. “You can't just drop 5 or 10 pounds and change your wealth.” (Weight: 234 lbs)

Fat Man Walking

Forget Waldo. Where's Steve? That's Steve Laught, a 400-lb. guy from Southern California who's walking across the U.S. for a good cause: himself. He's already lost 50 pounds on his trek from San Diego to New York City. He sleeps in a tent and eats what he can, including beef jerky, nutrition bars and the occasional helping of biscuits and gravy. If you're somewhere along the route, bring him some fruit and fresh water. (Weight: 234 lbs.).

Running to Stand Still

Exercising used to be so much better when I wasn't even aware that I was doing it. I used to play basketball for hours and ride my bike all over or rollerblade...and I never even considered the fact that it was good for me. It was just what I did. And then, at some point after parenthood, I reached that stage where I had to be fooled into exercising. I'd go play father-son hockey with my kid's PeeWee team and about half-way through it, I'd skate to the bench and look at some of the other dads and say, "Hey, did you see me out there? I'm exercising!" We'd all get a good chuckle and then we'd have a beer.

These days, though, I am painfully aware of each minute spent exercising. I've been doing some strength training because, you know, a pound of fat burns just two calories per day, but a pound of muscle burns 65 calories each day just by existing on your body. More recently, I started jogging -- first on the treadmill and then, about two weeks ago, outside. I typically run at about a 12 minute per mile pace, which is slightly faster than a geriatric with cane, but at least I can say I'm running (unlike all those other people who WALK on the treadmills at the gym). I told people I was training for a Half-K race. "You run to the end of the block and then get in line for the free Gatorade, granola bars and fruit." We'd chuckle and then go get a beer.

This past Saturday, I put aside pain and common sense to enter a road race. I was on vacation, in the beautiful lakefront town of Menominee, Michigan (gateway to da Yooper), and there was a big festival, including a Saturday morning run. As I scanned the brochure, I noticed there actually was a Half-K race, but registration was limited to children. I opted for the 5-K race and completed the 3.2 mile run in a blazing 30:27. Notably, my heart did not explode. Imagine my disappointment, though, when I heard post-race that I could have entered the "Clydesdale Division" which they had set up for "bigger runners." How sweet would that have been, to be lumbering down Main Street with an icy cold Budweiser in my hand at 9 a.m.?

It's worth noting that I ran every day on vacation and returned home at exactly the same weight as when I left. (Weight: 234 lbs.)

We're on the Road to Nowhere

Hopping in the car in a few hours to head out for a week's vacation with my kids. We're headed around Lake Michigan on a "circle tour" with a planned stop in Wisconsin to see my mother and stepfather. Other than that, we're going to wander around with no particular destination and only a few rules: swim and eat ice cream everyday, find interesting places and people. Kind of like Jack Kerouac with a credit card and an SUV. Okay, so this doesn't really qualify as "vagabonding" but it's a low-stress way to get out of town. (Weight: 234 lbs.)