In college, I could down an entire Jack in the Box bacon ultimate cheeseburger, after an appetizer of chili cheese fries and an eggroll, and wash it down with a large Dr. Pepper, then still be hungry for dinner. I suspect that my collegiate diet might have worn down my stomach’s resistance to pretty much anything. Some things will now set my stomach off so I get to spend the next few hours in the men’s room, yet it can handle other things that would make the average person double over in pain. The fun part is I never know when either will occur so now every meal becomes a sort of Emeril Roulette.
After the last round of “stomach tomfoolery” which was a couple of weeks ago, I swore off fast food, and since then have lived up to my promise. The only places I now eat at that could be considered “fast” are Subway and Chick-Fil-A, neither of which have grease in the sandwiches I order, or are particularly quick in processing orders. I think all that grease and fat has finally passed through my system, because I haven’t felt any stomach pains in weeks and my weight has dropped.
I’ve felt a little less like myself for the past two or three weeks, but the reason why didn’t hit me until last week. After getting a haircut, a few people at work jokingly asked me if I was losing weight. Bear in mind that I went from shaggy to sharp overnight, and have a narrow, angular face with high cheekbones. When my hair is longer, it tends to give the impression of having more meat on my face than I guess I actually have.
So I weighed myself and found out that I actually have lost some weight over the past few weeks. As I sat there and thought about it, I came to realize something – all that fast food really did add up.
Now comes the part where I try to put some extra weight on, or at least turn the existing weight into muscle. The idea being a buffer, toner, me for next year. I hit the magic number 30 in 2007 and want to go into that decade healthier than I was in the previous one. Make no mistake – my 20’s have been all about abusing my body, but now that I’m closer to the end of my 20’s than I am to the beginning, it’s time to start thinking about the future. I always figured a diet like mine would cause my heart to go Alien on me about the time I hit 35, but it seems my stomach cut that plan short. Probably for the better since I’ve grown quite attached to My Fair Lady, and I don’t fancy the idea of her waking up one morning to find my chest exploded all over the credenza. I also have no idea what a “credenza” is per se, but it sounds like it fits in with my scenario.
Ideally, my 30’s will be healthier and stronger than my 20’s were. That’s the plan, anyway. My Fair Lady and I have talked at length about getting healthier and that includes joining a gym next year after she graduates law school. We share an attitude of grudging obedience to the needs for exercise, but we do it when we simultaneously pressure each other. Since neither of us like to waste money, we both figure that if we join a gym then we’ll have no reason not to go work out at least two or three times a week and tone up. It’s a solid plan, because it manages to both inspire us and prey on our weaknesses at the same time.
Exercise, thy name is "Devious."