by Greg Johnson
I found out this week that I’m 5’ 4”. I have been telling people that I’m 5’ 5” for years, but my wife lovingly told me to check my driver’s license the other day. Turns out I’ve been lying about my height more than most women lie about their age. And my weight as it turns out. I see 150 occasionally, but it’s more of a goal than a fact. I think my license needs a computerized changeable readout, because my weight fluctuates more than a political campaign promise. I have a definite plan for weight loss; the execution, however, could use a bit of work. In an effort to explain the method to my madness, here is my weekly eating routine:
MONDAY: Start new diet. Weight Watchers, Atkins, Advocare, tree-hugger cleanse, name it. Doesn’t matter, I’ll try it! Go for run. Stop at half mile wheezing like a chain smoker. Surely it will get easier.
TUESDAY: Dull headache from weaning off of Diet Coke (I think it’s linked to Altzheimer’s … I forget), and sugar. Very tired and somewhat irritable, but totally worth it. Down 1 pound. Motivated to go for a run. Tomorrow.
WEDNESDAY: Severe headache. Low energy. Barely functional. What’s one Diet Coke going to hurt? Anything to get rid of the headache. And a single Hot Tamale. Or two. Man, these things are addicting…and hot! I need another Diet Coke to cool my mouth off.
THURSDAY: Guilt ridden. Comfort food.12 pack of Diet Coke. Google liposuction.
FRIDAY: Movie with the Misses. Large drink for a quarter more? Yes I think I will! Free refill on a bucket of popcorn? What a deal! Avoid eye contact with disappointed wife. Eat most of two buckets on my own. Goes great with the Milk Duds. You know, sweet and salty. Justify that popcorn is a vegetable… No getting around the Milk Duds, though. I will go for a run in the morning.
SATURDAY: Sleep as late as possible to take my mind off food. At home most of the day. Constant grazing. Keep going to the fridge, but nothing looks good, except that package of those slice and bake cookie squares. Why bake them? They are just fine like this. Sneak two an hour for the next 5 hours. Beginning to understand why that Pillsbury guy looks like he does. I can actually feel myself getting fatter… Need to go for a run, but Rocky IV is on. Lay on couch. Cue sugar coma.
SUNDAY: Look in mirror with disgust. I need to go on a diet. Thank God for Monday: New Diet Day. Eat until I’m dizzy, cuz tomorrow is a new beginning. I will definitely go for a run tomorrow…
This falls in the category of, “It’s funny cuz it’s true.”