Thursday, December 24, 2009

Towards a Better Telecomic

For those of you who remember me as a child, this may be hard to believe. For those of you who have known me in my thirties, this will not be a surprise at all. And, for those of you who met me during college and my 20s, this will be more explanatory than anything else:

I am FAT. Note that I did not spell that with a PH.

Now, I'm not grotesquely fat by any stretch. I'm hardly the Second Coming of His Donut-Holeyness John Goodman or anything, but I've indeed got some pudge. The lingering effect of my lung infection of 2007 was a lung steroid regimine throughout 2007, 2008 and half of 2009. Can I breathe easier? Eh...not really. Did I gain 35 pounds? Oh yeah.

The lung steroid was supposed to make my lungs stronger, more capable of fighting back this bacterial Visigoth sacking my Roman bronchiole. Unfortunately, my immune system did a passable version of Nero, and the steroids simply turned me in a reasonable facsimilie of the little-known emperor Corpulous. You won't find him on Wiki, but that name sounds like it'd be perfect for a pudgy Caesar.

See, this is a great lesson in doctor/patient communication, and the fallout of poor doctor/patient communication. The steroids did accomplish one goal - turn my already-strong appetite into a movie character ably portrayed by Jason Stratham. Much like Spinal Tap's amps, my pie hole got turned to 11. The steroids turned me into an eating machine - part-Joey Chestnut eating hot dogs, part Monty Python skit, one thin mint away from a horrible explosion.

TO that end, I have come up with my motto for 2010 - Less. Just Less. Less food. Less gluttony, which, hopefully, will lead to less gut-on-me.

What I've decided to do is a form of public humiliation. A lot of toolbags get on the MySpaceter or the Twitbook or what-have-you, and post up sexy photos of themselves. For years, I thought "Look at my abs!" was a nice way of saying "Look where my scout leader touched me!" Well, I'm going to use a similar form of public humiliation on myself. If I DON'T lose weight, and get rid of my mid-30s paunch, I'll post up decidedly UNSEXY photos of my flabs, and let you all mock them incessantly. And I want you to make those barbs HURT - no mercy. Make me cry, though if I had any true emotions left, I might indulge your slings and arrows.

So begins 2010, a week before it says so on the ole' Blackberry.

Merry Christmas to all. May your holidays be decidedly less-sucky than most.

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