Phat

My employer, an international capitalist, has declared its workers are too fat.

I can only assume it was a slow year…

Other companies have developed lunchtime workout classes, morning yoga sessions and healthier canteen food. But my company knows its staff; it created a competition.

Of course they're not calling it that, the same way they don't call us 'worker drones.' it’s a ‘sponsored weight loss.’ For every pound lost between now and June 21st they will pay £1 to Breast Cancer UK. After all, breast cancer affects woman and overweight men alike.

As Salesmen, this is another chance to prove our superiority! Conveniently this happens to be our favorite thing in the world and bets are already circulating on the greatest dieter, our second favorite thing being taking money from gullible fools.

For me, it’s another round in the fight against my six pack insulation, my attempts with Paul McKenna and the Gym failing. This time it may actually work. The reason I don’t beat the belly is because I have no real reason too and, more importantly, I'm lazy. I already know I could do it if I wanted too why waste my time proving it to myself? But to have an adjudicator, someone writing the figures down, and the chance of making a fool of myself in front of the entire workplace, well, failure is not an option.

If I gain weight I’ll end up stealing money from the charity and that can't do my karma any good!

So I weighed myself, 13 stone precisely or a perfectly disgusting 182 lbs

If a fat person can lose a stone a month, by the time June 21st comes around I'll be a hunky 11 stone 7, or 161 lb, a reasonable aim, unless I fly out to Malaysia for a quick tummy-tuck. That’s my goal and if I can beat it even better. Being the best dieter in the office will do wonders for my ego.

However, I'll tell people at work I’m 'not that bothered' otherwise they may try that little bit harder and end up beating me. And as a salesman, I’d rather see my friends get fat than face the shame of defeat.

And, worse still, if I seem to take it too seriously, they may even think I’m gay…

Other Challenges
Deep Thinner
It's Life, Gym

Deep Thinner

Encased in a pair of ear-phones that belonged to an 80's radio DJ before I brought them for £4.95 at Tesco, I laid back on the pillow, pulled the duvet up and pressed play.

All in all, there are more strenuous ways to lose weight.

It’s been noticeable for a while, even if only when I’m naked in front of a mirror, a situation I avoid as mirrors are expensive; I’m definitely gaining weight.

Now I’m never been slim, except maybe when I was born but I’ve repressed any memory of that, possibly because it involved female genitalia. Recently however, my waist line has been increasing faster than Bush’s Disapproval rating.

I tried to fight it. I went to the gym at least once a month. I drank diet coke with my McDonald's. I even gave serious thought to the prospect of considering the possibility of doing some sit ups.

Finally however, I’d had enough. Holding onto my stomach to keep my balance, I waddled to the book shop and brought McKenna's, 'I can make you thin,’ A book and CD full of ‘simple techniques to help you lose weight.'

The first technique goes like this

'Imagine in your head a picture of yourself as a thin person.'

I have several problems with this.

Firstly, I don't have the slightest idea what I would look like as a thin person. I find it hard enough to remember what I looked like two minutes ago.

I can picture my face thin based on a picture of myself some years ago, but as to the rest of me I can only look at other role models and mix and match. I imagine myself with Peter Andre's chest, Steve Irwin's legs, (a simple transplant) and Barbie's waistline

As I find it impossible to imagine myself with a thin neck I leave that part out.

The end result suggests I cut body parts out of a magazine and put them together with split pins. The thin me has a strong, manly, pair of legs tapering to a razor thin waist. On the hips sits a rippled torso straining to balance an oversized, but thin, neckless-head on its shoulders.

The instructions continue,

'Now walk into that new you. How does it feel?'

...like if I move too quickly my head will fall off...

'Imagine how you would go about your daily tasks at work.'

What? Are you suggesting that losing weight will mean I can enjoy my work more? Finally, I will be able to dial that phone without my 10lb of flab holding me back! Finally, I can make it to the water cooler without the use of two sticks and a forklift truck! A thin me would go about my daily tasks the same way the fat me does, perhaps with tighter trousers on to show off my firm 'Australianesque' butt...

'Take a moment to really enjoy this sensation...'

...then go back to your miserable little life you fat pointless drain on society. Stop sitting around cramming your face full of chocolate and day dreaming all day and get some exercise!

My mind tends to wonder during these exercises.

In the end I worry so much about getting the exercises wrong that I forget what I’m supposed to be doing and the mind programming fails. Instead of waking up feeling refreshed and alert I wake up feeling depressed and fat.

And so, to stop myself feeling that way, I nip to the kitchen and fix myself a sandwich.

I put the CD and book on EBay. The current bid stands at 29p. It's a good offer.

I'll keep the headphones for now. They have a good sound quality and are particularly good at bringing to life my substantial collection of internet pornography.

And all in all, there are more strenuous ways to lose weight...

Recent Weight loss Worries

• It's Life Gym
• The Gym week

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It's Life - Gym

The first time I went to the gym I had a panic attack.

Or at the very least I was short of breath, tearful and panicking which is probably the closest I will ever get unless I meet Shirley Bassey. I would like to say it was caused by overly aggressive treadmilling or lifting too much weight. But it wasn’t. It happened on the way there.

Gyms remind me of gym class and as such of pain, ridicule and my sexy gym teacher. Whilst I couldn't be sure he would be there, I was confident the pain and ridicule would. Luckily I arrived a minute late and my friend had gone in without me. Afraid to go in alone, I walked home instead, hoping that any one walking past, seeing me in gym wear with sore wet eyes and shaking limbs, would assume I’d just left a spinning workout.

I still workout in a state of trepidation though no one has laughed at me yet or slapped me with a wet towel.

It's not that I don't enjoy it. Once I get past the initial ‘can't be arsed stage’ and actually put on my gym clothes it’s quite fun. It’s more that the benefits are so wearyingly slow to materialize, taking many weeks to show up, that one can happily contribute them to some other, more satisfying, factor.

"I’ve lost so much weight this week and all I’ve done is eat fast food! Quick, order me three pizzas, two buckets of KFC, five chocolate bars, a diet coke and a book contract! The world must be told!"

There must be easier ways. I could get my stomach stapled, or my flab removed by a doctor posing as a chainsaw wielding maniac. For a hundred quid I could get the fat sucked out of me and sent to a third world country, but no, I have to do it the hard way!

So I sweat it out at the gym, along with the thin people sweating it out trying to gain weight, and the fit people sweating it out trying to stay fit, and the short people sweating it out trying to reach the treadmill controls.

Then at the first signs of weight loss I’ll go out for McDonald's to celebrate. The weight piles back on and, deciding the workout isn’t working, I’ll eventually quit and try alcohol instead.

But dissatisfied, bored, and demanding more looks from the fit boys in the clubs, I'll be back a month later, the sweat pouring off my face and collecting in a pool at the top of my over sized stomach. There I’ll be - panting for breath, wheezing, exerting every ounce of strength I have until finally, with a sigh of relief, I manage to do up my gym trousers.

And joining the rest of the self-flagellators, I’ll wait patiently in line for my turn on the treadmill.

Previous Fitness Foibles

• Gym Duracell Bunny
• The Duracell Bunny's Competitor
• Hunger Shock

Gym Duracell Bunny competitor

I had every intention of going to the gym today, I just never got round to waking up early enough to do it.

In my eyes the extra sleep is almost as good as a full cardio workout anyway...

Hunger Shock

I brought myself a new PDA this weekend, part of my intention being that I could use it to update this blog. Instead I've spent the last few days playing with the PDA. Sorry. I have however, gained an amazing score on Space Trader.

1. Talk
2. Get off the Web
3. Get Healthier
4. Leave the House
5. Join some Clubs
6. Say Yes
7. Spoil Myself

Walking home from the gym the other day, munching an apple on the way, I planned to go to Tesco (God of all supermarkets) and get some healthy, but easy, food for dinner.
I was heading down the aisle towards the ready meals when I walked past the eggs.
Now I love eggs and my love affair with them is powerful. Looking back over my life it is one long story of egg. I could happily eat 12 a day if my boyfriend would let me and still be up for an egg mayo sandwich as a midnight snack. Which is why it was somewhat odd, when I decided I didn't want them.

Baffled I walked on. The cake section was the same, the pizzas too, even the chocolate seemed unappealing, and then I realised a very bizarre thing. I wasn't hungry.

I am always hungry. It is very rare to hear to my stomach growling but mostly because I never give it a chance to. I eat when I'm bored, I eat when I'm tired, I eat when food is put in front of me, and hunger has never really played a part in it, more a kind of reflex action involving my hand and face. But standing next to the chocolate display in Tesco (PBUH) I realised I wasn't hungry. The apple had filled me up. And I went to the ready meals, got an Indian (a meal, not an actual resident of India), came home, put it in the oven and nearly forgot about it.

Something is beginning to take effect. I'm hoping it isn't the flu virus....

(P.S. Over the next few days, l had a fry up, a pizza, and a Burger King, so it may not be quite the revelation I was hoping for. But I didn’t eat all the chips so maybe all is not lost…)

Gym Duracell Bunny

1. Talk
2. Get off the Web
3. Get Healthier
4. Leave the House
5. Join some Clubs
6. Say Yes
7. Spoil Myself

I have been to the gym four times this week and I am going again today. I am completely knackered, my legs are about to give out in a congealed mess of blood and skin below me, I’m finding it hard to raise my arms to type and I occasionally slip into a dream world between reps where working out is a federal offence, but I'm seeing it through.

And it is an amazing feeling, on par with making your partner orgasm before you do.

Not that I've had much chance for that recently. I have, after all, been spending all my free time at the gym...

A Miracle on Park Street...

1. Talk
2. Get off the Web
3. Get Healthier
4. Leave the House
5. Join some Clubs
6. Say Yes
7. Spoil Myself

I went out with my work mates last night drinking!
To those who may not understand why that statement is being exclaimed allow me to elaborate.

• Last night - a Wednesday! Even though I'm working today!
• Went out - I do not go out. I prefer to sit and watch TV or surf blogs trying to find the well written ones.
• I – the nominative singular pronoun, used by a speaker in referring to himself or herself.
• Work mates - I haven't had ‘work mates’ since I moved to Bristol, and I prefer not to mix my work and social (or lack of) life, but last night I went out drinking with people from work.
• Drinking! – Imbibing of poisonous toxins for pleasure and sexual gain.

And I loved it. Really - even though my friend and I started drinking early ad probably made complete tits of ourselves. But then that is the purpose of alcohol in this country.
And I made myself leave early so I could wake up in time to go the gym today!

Gym!

1. n a building or room designed and equipped for indoor sports, exercise, or physical education. (gymnasium)
2. n An English male name as spelt by dyslexics
   

What is going on with me? A month ago I would have hated the idea of going, refused to get drunk, sat in a corner and not spoken to anyone, and left at about 10:00. But last night I really enjoyed myself, had a few drinks chatted to everyone and left at the reasonable hour of 11:30 but only because it's a school night and I'm going to the gym today. (I also had Nandos for Dinner, but we won't tell anyone that...)

I think, maybe, someone should get me Doctor; there is clearly some strange sociable creature that has taken over my brain,
And at this rate it will probably take over my liver too.

Organic Remains

1. Talk
2. Get off the Web
3. Get Healthier
4. Leave the House
5. Join some Clubs
6. Say Yes
7. Spoil Myself

I don't want to do this too you, I really don't. But I'm so proud I will anyway.

I'm about to show you some leftover curry and jacket potato, rather in the way that a toddler will shove a potty in your nose and say look what i did! Readers of a squeamish disposition may prefer to look away now and resort to reading the rest of this entry in brail instead.

Why, you may ask (you nosey bugger,) am I so proud of my fermenting remains. Well, because they are remains! I have never before walked away from a plate of purchased food without eating every last edible scrap, licking the bowl clean and prising any remaning sustenance away with a a scalpel at the crockery's molecular level. But yesterday, eating slower, enjoying my food and taking my time I felt happy to leave about a quid’s worth of food (two twix bars worth!) simply because I didn't really need it.

Of course, I could have just written about this rather than subject you to an image of it, but then I might as well use this fancy camera phone for something.

Isn't it wonderful how technology is enriching our lives...

Becoming me - Week 3

1. Talk
2. Get off the Web
3. Get Healthier
4. Leave the House
5. Join some Clubs
6. Say Yes
7. Spoil Myself

At the moment, when I relax, my stomach unrolls against my underwear, folding the waist of my boxers down over my jeans like a horse curling his bottom lip. Sexy huh?

I've been dreading this week. I've been avoiding it. I’m unhealthy and I know it but as long as I don’t admit it it’s not really true, kind of like Global Warming. I've stopped taking care of myself. I let myself go, which isn't as complicated as it sounds.

I love food. If I was allowed to, I would go to bed with it. I tried that once with Cod and Chips. It was the first time my genitals had ever smelt of fish. But I also love feeling sexy, when I feel sexy my confidence has a natural boost, and I stand in front of mirrors more often.

If I’m honest though I’m not doing much to get healthy at the moment and the only way to get healthy is to get healthy. So for the first week I'm going to throw myself into it like a lesbian into a chocolate cake, get myself acclimatised, and make the remaining weeks seem like a walk in a cruising ground.

To Do

• Concentrate on my food.
I currently hire a man with a shovel to spoon feed me. This week I will attempt to concentrate on every mouthful I eat and actually enjoy eating.
• Go to the gym Mon - Fri for at least 30 minutes of cardio.
No sauna till I’ve built up a natural sweat.
• Walk to and from Work
• Maximum one vending machine purchase a day
• Five fruit and veg a day
• Learn to love my body

I will not however be detoxing. I refuse to do anything that makes me spend money. Unless of course it's chocolate coated.

Read Archived Articles about my health.
- I can make you thin
- Steaming
- Calorie Counting for idiots