Ten years later I could be charitably described as "stocky" considering my height and my bulk. I was working nights part-time at a liquor warehouse which helped build muscle while I attended college.
Fifteen years later. Holy shit, it's been fifteen years. More than fifteen years later I have scrawny arms, an enormous gut and I'm afraid that I'm losing any definition from my legs.
Today I read this article about the daily meals consumed by grossly and morbidly obese people. Reading that made me feel really fucking fat. Also have you seen the photos I posted on Wednesday? Look at this for example. Looks like Jaybird and maribou are trying to keep me from eating Chumky. Plus my sister remarked that I had gotten fatter when she looked at my vanilla State of Colorado ID photo compared to my Colorado drivers license photo. On the bright side, she was pleasantly surprised that I'm not going bald nor gray. Short of becoming an hero I have to lose weight for my own peace of mind and continued health.
Upon reflection I've realized that I have to raise my metabolism, engage in more physical activity or severely cut back on the food I consume on a regular basis. Right now my metabolism is complete shit because I only eat one or two meals a day which puts my body into starvation mode. Plus I'm not eating the best possible food since I'm cheap and want to eat so I'm happy rather than fed so I can do other things.
My joints hurt, I can't exert myself without becoming seriously winded and writing this is getting to be pretty depressing.
My unrealistic goal is to lose a pound a week. By December I'll be under 300 pounds. What a glorious day that would be for me. I haven't been under 300 pounds for four years. Reckon if I make it to 250 pounds then I'll be alright.
Thing is that I don't want to do some schticky fad diet like Atkins or AIDS or eat only things that start with the letter G.