280. This is the number I am quickly approaching. 280lbs. AKA, the biggest tub of goo that I've been since I got divorced over a decade ago. Granted, while I was married, I let myself go. I figured, I've tricked this unsuspecting woman into loving me, why bother to keep up with appearances? Now, I'm not saying that The Ex broke it off because of my weight. She broke it off because I was kind of a shitty husband. If I'd been a hard-bodied shitty husband that may have kept her around for a little bit longer but it was gonna end eventually. Lucky for my Lovely Girlfriend, I have learned a number of lessons from that failed relationship and the handful of others I had in the decade after.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still super difficult to live with. Have to get things my way. Bitch and moan over things I don't like and take most of what she does for granted. But at least now I say thank you every so often and I'm willing to offer the occasional apology (but only when it's absolutely necessary. Those words taste awful bitter coming out of my mouth). Oh, and I work out all the time. Just in case the now mildly shitty boyfriend routine ever wears thin. My Lovely Girlfriend can think - it could be worse, he could be a real dick and a fatty. Or at least I used to work out. It's been almost four months since I've broken a sweat. The last time was just days before I got my official diagnosis. I got suckered into digging post holes for The Boy's new fence. Word to the wise, if you are ever asked to help a friend dig post holes - stop being friends with that person. No true friend would put you through that form of torture. Also, for the record, the soon to be cancer patient was fine the next day while The Boy had to call in sick to work due to exhaustion. Since that time I've been told repeatedly not to overexert myself. In the first few weeks I had to refrain from working out despite my desire to do so. In the last couple of months I don't think I've had the energy to even make an attempt at overexerting myself.
If you are wondering how I got up to nearly 280 after only four months of sedentary living the answer is simple. I love to eat. Even with all the various forms of Boxing and P90X workouts I probably still walked around fifteen or twenty pounds heavier then I should have been. The working out allowed me to eat and drink whatever I wanted and still maintain a marginally fit look. As I've mentioned before, I was kind of counting on The Chemo Diet to take off those last dozen or so lbs and give me back the six-pack I had when I was... well, never. That's why I was so excited about the chemo. Forget about curing the lymphoma this was my first chance for six-pack abs! Last week my Oncologist, Hans Gruber, informed me that some people actually gain weight while on chemo. Thanks for filling me in on that now. If I'd known that I would have avoided the daily servings of chocolate cake.
On November, 9th I get my final chemo infusion. I also get the infernal Picc Line out of my arm. I'll be flying back to LA a few days later once the worst of the side effects wear off and I'll be there for about three weeks. There is an MMA gym about two blocks away from our apartment. At this point I could begin my painful journey back to moderate fitness. I will still have to go through about a month worth of radiation and I may or may not be able to work out during that time but at least those three weeks could slow my rapid growth into a fatty boom-ba-latty. Or, option B, I could not bother exercising until I get an all's clear from Hans Gruber and see if in the time in between I manage to tip the scales at Three Bills! I would go back to working out eventually, of course. What's more a more impressive thing to hear, I used to weigh three hundred or I used to be two-eighty-five? Doctors could label me morbidly obese, I'd shed the weight and suddenly I'd be an inspiration! I'd have beaten the odds! What an amazing story!
Darlin, if I acted nicer, would it be alright if I got fatter? Just for a little while? Think of the dramatic before and after pictures.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still super difficult to live with. Have to get things my way. Bitch and moan over things I don't like and take most of what she does for granted. But at least now I say thank you every so often and I'm willing to offer the occasional apology (but only when it's absolutely necessary. Those words taste awful bitter coming out of my mouth). Oh, and I work out all the time. Just in case the now mildly shitty boyfriend routine ever wears thin. My Lovely Girlfriend can think - it could be worse, he could be a real dick and a fatty. Or at least I used to work out. It's been almost four months since I've broken a sweat. The last time was just days before I got my official diagnosis. I got suckered into digging post holes for The Boy's new fence. Word to the wise, if you are ever asked to help a friend dig post holes - stop being friends with that person. No true friend would put you through that form of torture. Also, for the record, the soon to be cancer patient was fine the next day while The Boy had to call in sick to work due to exhaustion. Since that time I've been told repeatedly not to overexert myself. In the first few weeks I had to refrain from working out despite my desire to do so. In the last couple of months I don't think I've had the energy to even make an attempt at overexerting myself.
If you are wondering how I got up to nearly 280 after only four months of sedentary living the answer is simple. I love to eat. Even with all the various forms of Boxing and P90X workouts I probably still walked around fifteen or twenty pounds heavier then I should have been. The working out allowed me to eat and drink whatever I wanted and still maintain a marginally fit look. As I've mentioned before, I was kind of counting on The Chemo Diet to take off those last dozen or so lbs and give me back the six-pack I had when I was... well, never. That's why I was so excited about the chemo. Forget about curing the lymphoma this was my first chance for six-pack abs! Last week my Oncologist, Hans Gruber, informed me that some people actually gain weight while on chemo. Thanks for filling me in on that now. If I'd known that I would have avoided the daily servings of chocolate cake.
On November, 9th I get my final chemo infusion. I also get the infernal Picc Line out of my arm. I'll be flying back to LA a few days later once the worst of the side effects wear off and I'll be there for about three weeks. There is an MMA gym about two blocks away from our apartment. At this point I could begin my painful journey back to moderate fitness. I will still have to go through about a month worth of radiation and I may or may not be able to work out during that time but at least those three weeks could slow my rapid growth into a fatty boom-ba-latty. Or, option B, I could not bother exercising until I get an all's clear from Hans Gruber and see if in the time in between I manage to tip the scales at Three Bills! I would go back to working out eventually, of course. What's more a more impressive thing to hear, I used to weigh three hundred or I used to be two-eighty-five? Doctors could label me morbidly obese, I'd shed the weight and suddenly I'd be an inspiration! I'd have beaten the odds! What an amazing story!
Darlin, if I acted nicer, would it be alright if I got fatter? Just for a little while? Think of the dramatic before and after pictures.
Michelle is one lucky girl.
ReplyDeleteBut not as lucky as ITT to be targeting people who follow Jules on a daily basis — basically bunch of miscreants.
ReplyDeleteJust for the record, *I* don't even weigh 280 anymore. And you've seen me recently... you KNOW how f-ing Bartolo Colon I am right now. And even after they've cut out several slices of my spine, I'm still about 6'4" tall. How tall are you again?
ReplyDeleteTo be fair, I was once heavier than you. I maxed out at 299. At that point I had my Biggest Loser realization and decided that if I broke the 3c mark, I might just see how much weight I could drain out of the slits in my wrists. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you're really, really fat. I hope that helps elevate your mood a little.
p.s. - You know as well as I do that there's only one sure-fire diet, and that's heroin. Have you ever seen a heavy-set junkie? And no, Belushi doesn't count because he was mixing so many pills and powders that the rules didn't apply to him (but seriously, what rules did?).
I'm 5'11. My healthy walking around weight is about 250. That's me working out but not killing myself with a diet. The best shape of my life weight was 223. I could squat 500lbs and bench about 300. I was 20. I'm thinking once this whole thing is over my goal will be to get down toward 240.
ReplyDeleteI don't think I could do the heroin diet. I hate needles and if you do it any other way you're just throwing your money away from what I've been told.
You're right, Dave. Hopefully Michelle knows it.
ReplyDeleteHey, you know that direct line port they put in your chest so you wouldn't need to get spiked every time they had to put toxic chemicals in your bloodstream? That thing is like a junkie's wet dream! Sure, you got a blood infection because you couldn't seem to remember to spray it down with Windex every now and then, but remember that heroin users already get infections all the time from dirty needles and nasty puncture sites.
ReplyDelete...I'm telling you man, this is the greatest business idea EVER! We could sell thousands upon thousands of them! Nd not just to smack users, but anyone who mainlines anything (hillbilly heroine, coke, monkey dust, whatever!).
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ReplyDelete...Of course the junkie economy isn't necessarily built around traditional fee-for-service transactions, but we could arrange something. Perhaps a widescreen TV and a handful of maternal jewelry would equal enough for the Medical equipment and procedure, and then maybe something like a baseball autographed by an MLB player with a career batting average above .300 acting as sufficient payment for anesthesia (unless, of course, they want to bring their own).
ReplyDeleteI don't know exactly how we'd evaluate traded goods--perhaps we could partner with a pawn broker--but that's all just details anyway; we're the Big Picture thinkers who can get this operation off the ground, and a shunt in every junkie in New England by 2015!