It all started at the annual Hoban Christmas Eve party. The night started like any other late December festivity. The Eagles’ season came to a crashing hault, 5PM mass in Mt Airy, then off to the family shindig with mom and dad as my Holiday DD’s. Everyone knows that when you turn 21, you are legal to drink. However, there is always that 2-3 years span where even though the great US of A says that you are allowed to take as many funnels to the face as you want, adults always look at you like you’re an alcoholic (let me live for like 5 minutes). However, at 25, I can have as many BLs as I want on a holiday as long as I have a ride and nobody cares. I’d just finished my roast beef/provolone sandwich complete with GMOM’s salad, momma cole slaw, and healthy portion of lasagna (Irish side of the family if you didn’t figure that out yet). I then retired to the lavatory to make some adjustments. THEN, there it was…. Something I’ve feared for years since my playing days at the Stagdome have ended… a scale. I figured, “why not, lets see what the slophouse is tipping the scales at these days.” Tap the scale, see the zeros appear, annnnnnnd mount. YIKES!!!!!!!! 228.3????? HOLY SHIT! The nickname of Slophouse was no longer a reference to my penchant Jack n Cokes, fights with inflatable football players, and frighteningly accurate MJ Thriller dance moves. I am officially a FATASS.
Leave me alone. I dont wanna see anyone...
Now I am not saying that everyone who is 228.3lbs is fat. But when you used to go into the year at 192 and you’re 6ft (ok, 5’11’’ and a half) this is a problem. Especially when you play bass in a bitchin band and your main responsibility is to what??? We’ve talked about this people! LOOK GOOD ON STAGE!!! I realized at this point that something had to change. I felt like the Italian Stallion in Rocky 3. I’d been carried for most of my career, but now I was beaten. Knocked out by Clubber Lang laying face down on the canvass. And then there he was. Sir Charles himself talking about WeightWatchers. My Apollo Creed (no, we did not share a random homo-erotic sprint on the beaches of California, but that’s besides the point).
Yes, I got sold and sucked in immediately. Lose Like a Man??? I can do that. Why not? So I got out the plastic and signed up for 3 months. Now I’m not gonna waste anymore time talking about all the different food I ate and the workouts I did, so let me just say this- Sir Charles don’t lie. It may be “turrrible” not to slop Chipotle twice a week, but this shit works. But again, this isn’t a weight-loss diary cuz that would be way too much work and its been a pain in the ass enough recording every grain I’ve put into my body for the past 2 months. Instead, this is me venting after 2 months about what absolutely SUCKS about being on a diet. So if you are considering going on one, Godspeed and best of luck but be prepared for…
1) CHEESE- lets get one thing straight. I LOVE CHEESE. On everything. Now yes, you can eat cheese on WW, but not like I do. I need cheese for 3 squares a day. And now??? TWICE A DAY??? Horsehit! Luckily I found that if I get a Cold Cut Combo at subway sans cheese, but just load on every single type of condiment imaginable, everybody wins.
2) The Super Bowl- The Giants played the Patriots, The Giants won, nobody wanted to go out, I had 3 buffalo wings. Awful on multiple levels.
3) WARDROBE- I know, yes, it is a good feeling when you’re on a diet and your clothes start feeling bigger. However, it does not feel good when you’re walking around and you start to look like Lil Wayne crypt-walking from stage left to stage right. Your front button sags below your belt and you look like a goddamn Mac Miller impersonator (is he serious or is he a parody??? Somebody let me know). One good thing was that the 36 waist black jeans I bought to look tight and “rocker” don’t actually suffocate me anymore. Bad news is that everything I got for xmas is now irrelevant. The fantastic white button-up my parents got me makes me look like the Stay-Puffed Marshmellow Man took roids and stopped working out.
4) Post Work Routine Ruined – I’m not gonna get too graphic on this one, but I used to enjoy coming home, throwing off the coat, and heading to my throne. Nowadays, well, you get the point. My routine is completely thrown off. That is unless I save up some points and hit up a Mexican restaurant on a random night. Then I’m in deeeep trouble. During work is the same. I used to have 2 designated breaks during the day to unwind, fire up some Angry Birds and read the latest blurbs about a possible Guns n Roses reunion. Now I just get bored and my legs go numb while I am forced to listen to co-workers enjoying their breaks. Its just inhuman.
5) People Who Notice- Again, this should be a good thing when people notice that you are shedding pounds. You know what isn’t good??? When all those people are dudes!!! 2 months and the only female who noticed and said something was my roommate’s girlfriend. Yeah….fail.
6) Alcohol- Other than giving up real beer, adjusting the booze intake hasn’t been too bad. The bad part is that I used to prepare for a night out with a slop-show meal. Usually a cheesesteak, pizza, or delicious Chicken Cacciatore with a side of pasta. Nowadays, a nice little egg white omelet with mushrooms and yes, cheese. Hypothesis- I will get drunk pretty quickly. Result- I get drunk extremely quick and I have a massive hangover the next day. Luckily for me, Subway in West Chester stays open till 3am on the weekends. Thanks Jared!
So in summary, I stopped eating like a complete douche (God I miss college), I actually go to the gym now (a big thank you to the girls rockin the yoga pants on the treadmills), and I now put my beverages on the ground next to my recliner since I can no longer rest them on the quarter-keg that used to be my tummy. It has been an experience for sure, but it’s not over yet. 1 more month to go on my subscription, and then….
THIS HELL GETS TO END AND I CAN EAT AGAIN!!!!!!!!! MARK IT DOWN FOLKS. MARCH 29TH, CHINA BUFFET IN PLYMOUTH MEETING. I’M CLOSING THAT BITCH AND YOU’RE INVITED!!! YOU BRING THE BEERS, I’LL BRING THE FUNNEL…FOR THE HOT N SOUR SOUP.
