What a week! Can you believe I’m 91 kilograms? Why, that’s 14 stone and change. Quite a result, I don’t mind saying.
You’re not falling for it, I know. My tricky use of kilograms and stone won’t conceal the truth: I gained. My math isn’t so great, but I think you double the kilograms, subtract your age, carry the three, and then multiply it by the date. I gained 42 pounds or something.
It’s not my fault, though. I know, I always say ‘No excuses’. But that was before I was given an all-expense paid trip to the Vachon factory in Quebec, invited to participate in a pie-eating contest, and given a lifetime supply of Wunderbars and Lactantia butter – all in a week. I mean, what are the odds?
I think it’s time we all acknowledge what is so glaringly obvious. I’m not losing 40 pounds. Sure, one of the Kardashians may be able to lose 10 pounds in a week, if tabloids are to be believed, but the only program that’s getting me to 175 by Thanksgiving is the Vivisection Diet, and I’m kind of attached to my legs.
I’m not giving up, though. Far from it. I’ve hit upon a new number. Not a slam dunk success, no, but a respectable result: 189.9. That would be 25 pounds overall, and more than 10 in the final five weeks.
As a gesture of support, my wife is joining me. Perhaps you’d like to as well. No need to formalize it. Let’s just say lose ’em if you got ’em.
I’ll leave you with a couple of motivational slogans. From my favourite ex-crackhead, Perry Farrell: “I want to be more like the ocean. No talking and all action.”
And from Orwell’s 1984: “If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stomping on a human face – forever.”
OK, maybe just stick with the Perry Farrell quote.
This is not an advice column. Please consult a medical expert or nutritionist for sound dietary advice. Eric Sparling is an Amherst Daily News reporter, and former senior editor at Oxygen, a women’s fitness magazine.