How long can this go on?
– Bono, Red Rocks, 1983
Today is offically 40 (unofficially, it’s probably 45). That is how many pounds I dropped since about mid-May, after the happy finish doctor reacharound, and the union of the 30 foot anaconda and the momentary disturbance in the force. So, it is sort of a milestone day in Sockville.
Plus, finally, that Ahab f***er has stopped chasing me with a harpoon. [Ex-]Wifey is insanely jealous, so she is trying 1/2 the program. A few more lbs, and another couple inches of the waist and I will be about where I want to be.
The really important part is that throughout this self imposed program of diet and exercise, there has always been room for beer. Almost always light beer, but that is mostly so I could rationalize drinking 2:1. Plus most other foods I feel like eating. It’s all about calories, portions, substitutes and avoiding the insanely stupid choices (no more lard burgers with alfredo sauce and biggie fries).
The next real test is football season. We have Cards tickets (the former governor’s seats) for at least one game, which means a buffet. We may catch an ASU game, which means shit on a stick from the vendors. Games at home should be NBFD, since this whole stealth health diet is pretty well ingrained, even on the weekends.
[/ boring ass window into my actual life]