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.)