Baby Got Back(Fat)

OK. Here's the deal: I'm going to lose 15 pounds by June 1st. Now, don't worry, this isn't going to turn into a weight loss blog (and believe me, they exist), but rather I am just making this announcement public so that I can be accountable to myself for progress towards my goal. How does making my weight loss goal public information make me accountable, you ask? Well, for starters, if I fall off the wagon and somebody says to me, "Hey, lost any weight yet?" it will shame me into getting back on track (or perhaps just make me hurt you, but whatever). And if anyone sees me eating something like a bag of Chee-tohs, you can frown at me disapprovingly and castigate me with your eyes. Not that it will do any good, but go ahead and try if it makes you feel morally superior.

See, the thing is, it's long been my goal to lose about 20-30 pounds, thus putting me squarely at my undergraduate--and total babe-magnet--weight (pause here for guffawing). Since I moved to Crapville, aka Our Nation's Capital, I've lost about ten pounds, but then, as usual, I plateaued and grew complacent, and haven't lost any more weight. The next thing that generally happens is that my weight will gradually climb up again, until I become so disgusted with myself that I clamp down on the eating and the not-exercising and the french-fry inhaling marathon until I lose ten pounds again. And so the cycle continues. BUT, this time I am determined for once and for all to lose the final fifteen pounds and keep them off forever. So there you have it, in black and white. I WILL LOSE 15 POUNDS BY JUNE 1.

Which reminds me, I watched this grotesque TV show last night on Discovery Health about a morbidly obese man who weighed 759 pounds. It was really gross and very, very sad - it wasn't like this guy had a thyroid condition or anything; he just really, really enjoyed himself some good eatin'. I mean the guy looked like Jabba the Hut for reals, and he got so fat that he basically could not even move anymore - he had to be put in a long-term care facility where, try as they might to help the poor guy lose weight, he eventually died. I kept wondering a) how do you let yourself get to that point? (and immediately changed my mind about that bowl of ice cream I had planned on eating) and b) how do you let someone you love get to that point? (he was married). And also, how do you not seek help from someone at oh, say, 500 pounds, and not plead for some weight-loss pills or a stomach staple or SOMETHING? Of course he was poor, not that educated, and probably didn't have much health insurance to speak of, but still. My guess is the only reason his doctors at the facility didn't recommend a gastric bypass surgery was that his body wouldn't have been able to handle it. The creepiest thing of all was that, though I felt mortified for this guy to have his misery video-taped for mass consumption and I was disgusted by what I saw, I was glued to the TV. I kept thinking, "How dare they put this on television for viewers to gawk at mercilessly? Doesn't this guy and his family have enough problems without putting them on display to the world?" And yet I could not change the channel. But I really, really wanted him to lose weight and return to some semblance of a normal life, and thinking to myself, "It's TV! Of course he'll pull through; they wouldn't show it if he didn't!" I was astounded to learn that after a short while in the facility he died from a blood infection because his body was just too weak to fight it.

The moral of this story, boys and girls, is seek out some help BEFORE you get to the 759-pound mark. So yeah, I'm losing 15 pounds, everyone.