A personal record.
This weekend, I gained ten pounds. Yep, read that one again. 10 pounds. From Friday evening (had a healthy salad, two somewhat unhealthy beers), to this morning when I weighed myself, my weight ballooned from a respectfully obese 305 to a disgustingly obese 315.
Now, I’ve been big (read: fat) for the majority of my life. Since I’ve lost a hundred pounds (well, 90 now) over the past couple years, this gain is startling. It’s not that I didn’t see it coming, given my food intake this past weekend:
Friday evening: Salad with Grilled Chicken, Beers: Not bad at all. In fact, I would go on record as saying this is actually decent for you, since the dressing was balsamic vinegar.
Late Friday Evening: This is where it started to go downhill. First, during a viewing of Dawn of the Dead, I indulged in three peanut butter cups. Then a third of a bottle of Bombay Sapphire (shared with the lovely SockHobbit). Then, perhaps due to the inebriation levels running rampant in the living room, half a thing of Ben and Jerry’s Frozen Yogurt. At that point, I remember saying to myself, “It’s okay, I’m hitting the gym tomorrow.”
Saturday Morning: Woke up with Bombay-induced cottonmouth and slight headache. No biggie considering other hangovers I’ve experienced. So, SockHobbit and I go into the living room and think about what we should have for breakfast. Not wanting a protein shake, I suggest a healthy alternative: breakfast burritos from Don Pedro. Now, Don Pedro is this little chain we have here in Portland that makes incredibly good breakfast burritos: eggs, cheese, potatoes (though I tend to forgo them for more bacon) and bacon. Not to be outdone, I also decided to throw on a chicken quesadilla for good measure, since it was 11 and “almost lunch.”
Saturday Afternoon: We’re on our way to meet my friend for his birthday lunch. I call and tell him that we are running late. He then informs me that his birthday is, in fact, Sunday. Not knowing what else to do, we went to the place we were supposed to go anyhow: Roake’s – a hole in the wall, dive joint with the most insane-tasting hamburgers anywhere. These are in no way considered healthy, regardless of how many tomatoes you thrown on ‘em. Knowing that I had neglected the gym, I did what anyone would do: I ordered a gigantic hamburger: the Farmer John. This particular artery blocker has a pound of beef, ham, bacon, eggs, lettuce and tomato. Onions, too, if you want em. Add to that monster some fries and I pretty felt myself getting fatter.
Saturday evening: Feeling queasy from the Farmer John didn’t stop me from diving into some artichoke dip (basically melted cheese with some artichokes and spinach – very tasty) meatballs, KitKats, innumerable beers and a martini at a Halloween party. The rest of the evening is somewhat of a blur, but I’m quite sure I decided to go after healthier alternatives, like Peanut Butter Cups, cream cheese dips and “Spider Cookies” (don’t ask…just know that they were very delicious).
Sunday morning/afternoon: Vowing to have a better, more healthier day, I make my protein shake, eat some almonds…and play video games until my friend calls, informing me that he decided to go somewhere else for his birthday celebration, which is fine for me. Until he tells me the place in question is Red Robin. Hearing this, both parts of my brain immediately start fighting: One side is saying, “Okay, no worries…you can have a salad with dressing one the side…no big deal.” The other responds with, “Remember to ask for ranch to dip your bottomless fries in.”
Guess which one won?
Saturday evening: We’re watching Carlito’s Way as we’re dealing with our three Trick-Or-Treaters. Good movie, good candy, good night. I ended up taking care of the rest of the spinach-artichoke dip and took down a couple pesky “Inside-Out” Peanut Butter Cuts (the peanut butter is on the outside! Seriously, this is huge news for a fat guy) along the way.
Needless to say, this morning I hit the gym. God, I feel like Nick Cage in Leaving Las Vegas, only I’m not shivering and vomiting uncontrollably.
Which is nice, I guess.
Now, I’ve been big (read: fat) for the majority of my life. Since I’ve lost a hundred pounds (well, 90 now) over the past couple years, this gain is startling. It’s not that I didn’t see it coming, given my food intake this past weekend:
Friday evening: Salad with Grilled Chicken, Beers: Not bad at all. In fact, I would go on record as saying this is actually decent for you, since the dressing was balsamic vinegar.
Late Friday Evening: This is where it started to go downhill. First, during a viewing of Dawn of the Dead, I indulged in three peanut butter cups. Then a third of a bottle of Bombay Sapphire (shared with the lovely SockHobbit). Then, perhaps due to the inebriation levels running rampant in the living room, half a thing of Ben and Jerry’s Frozen Yogurt. At that point, I remember saying to myself, “It’s okay, I’m hitting the gym tomorrow.”
Saturday Morning: Woke up with Bombay-induced cottonmouth and slight headache. No biggie considering other hangovers I’ve experienced. So, SockHobbit and I go into the living room and think about what we should have for breakfast. Not wanting a protein shake, I suggest a healthy alternative: breakfast burritos from Don Pedro. Now, Don Pedro is this little chain we have here in Portland that makes incredibly good breakfast burritos: eggs, cheese, potatoes (though I tend to forgo them for more bacon) and bacon. Not to be outdone, I also decided to throw on a chicken quesadilla for good measure, since it was 11 and “almost lunch.”
Saturday Afternoon: We’re on our way to meet my friend for his birthday lunch. I call and tell him that we are running late. He then informs me that his birthday is, in fact, Sunday. Not knowing what else to do, we went to the place we were supposed to go anyhow: Roake’s – a hole in the wall, dive joint with the most insane-tasting hamburgers anywhere. These are in no way considered healthy, regardless of how many tomatoes you thrown on ‘em. Knowing that I had neglected the gym, I did what anyone would do: I ordered a gigantic hamburger: the Farmer John. This particular artery blocker has a pound of beef, ham, bacon, eggs, lettuce and tomato. Onions, too, if you want em. Add to that monster some fries and I pretty felt myself getting fatter.
Saturday evening: Feeling queasy from the Farmer John didn’t stop me from diving into some artichoke dip (basically melted cheese with some artichokes and spinach – very tasty) meatballs, KitKats, innumerable beers and a martini at a Halloween party. The rest of the evening is somewhat of a blur, but I’m quite sure I decided to go after healthier alternatives, like Peanut Butter Cups, cream cheese dips and “Spider Cookies” (don’t ask…just know that they were very delicious).
Sunday morning/afternoon: Vowing to have a better, more healthier day, I make my protein shake, eat some almonds…and play video games until my friend calls, informing me that he decided to go somewhere else for his birthday celebration, which is fine for me. Until he tells me the place in question is Red Robin. Hearing this, both parts of my brain immediately start fighting: One side is saying, “Okay, no worries…you can have a salad with dressing one the side…no big deal.” The other responds with, “Remember to ask for ranch to dip your bottomless fries in.”
Guess which one won?
Saturday evening: We’re watching Carlito’s Way as we’re dealing with our three Trick-Or-Treaters. Good movie, good candy, good night. I ended up taking care of the rest of the spinach-artichoke dip and took down a couple pesky “Inside-Out” Peanut Butter Cuts (the peanut butter is on the outside! Seriously, this is huge news for a fat guy) along the way.
Needless to say, this morning I hit the gym. God, I feel like Nick Cage in Leaving Las Vegas, only I’m not shivering and vomiting uncontrollably.
Which is nice, I guess.
posted by The Haiku Review at 2:25 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home