Let's go spend all our money! 

Well, actually not friends. The plan was to go shopping for good, healthy food after I got paid, but that never happened with my stupid, busy schedule. I've had a little time to plan, but haven't gotten my full shopping list put together just yet. BUT, I do have a fun story for you all from today when I went shopping with my friend Jesse. 

He was doing some pretty major shopping, and I was just sort of along for the ride. I did need a few important things like toothpaste, paper towels, ice tea, and, ahem... Preparation H. 

Just kidding. About the Prep H thing. 

Anyway, as we were perusing the store and Jesse was buying up half of the entire store, I decided I needed some Italian Dressing. So I went and got that. Then, as we were walking by the bakery, I had flashbacks from the 1/2 pan brownie incident. I decided that while Jesse was in the frozen food section, I would take just a quick look around the bakery. And, as I was doing what I wasn't supposed to be doing, I ran across this carton of double chocolate M&M brownie cookies. Double Chocolate. M&M. Brownie. Cookies. Everything about that product sounds so not good for me. But totally good for my taste buds. "Mmmmm..." I said to myself. I picked them up and headed to the cart. Midway back, I thought to myself "I don't need these", so I turned around and put them back. And as I headed back to the cart, I thought to myself "you know, Wes. You could buy them and just have like... one a day. That's not so bad". So I flipped my face around and went back and got them. Meanwhile, the INCREDIBLY HOT butcher kept looking at me like "what in the hell is this kid doing? And why does he keep staring at me? Are my piercings out of place or my tattoos spelled wrong or something?" As I headed back with a carton of cookies that I knew I shouldn't have, Jesse looked at me and said "Really, Wes?" 

I ignored the comment. 

But it gets better.

While we were in the produce department, and Jesse was taking forever to pick out a damn tub of spinach, all I could do was stare at the cookies. I knew I shouldn't get them. But they looked so good! And I was in the middle of a total sugar/carb craving. And on top of that, they were chewy brownie cookies with crunchy M&M pieces. AND double chocolate. "Crap..." I said to myself. I rolled my eyes, picked up the carton, went over to Jesse and said "Jesse... I don't think I'm going to get these."

"OK..." he says. Like "it's your problem, dude. Don't put me in the middle of it. I'm trying to pick out spinach, bitch..." 

Dissatisfied with his response, I just looked down at the carton and stood there. 

"I have to go back that way, anyway. I forgot something." he says.

Now THERE was the response I was waiting for!

So, after Jesse finally found the spinach he wanted to buy, we made our way back to the bakery (walking by the butcher, AGAIN) and I successfully returned the cookies to their original location. The look on the butchers face was a very confused one. He had no idea what was going on. And neither did I, because somehow I managed to lose Jesse... but find the fresh donuts, located directly behind the cookie stand. You should have seen me in front of those see-through cabinets that housed brown baskets filled with dozens upon dozens of fresh, frosted, glazed, and fruit-filled donuts. I didn't even need to open the cabinet doors to smell them. "Mmmmm", I say again. I turn my head toward the butcher... and it was totally one of those moments when someone who is staring at another person jerks their head away after the person being stared at notices them. It was fabulous. I smirked and went back to donut shopping, with visions of a naked butcher in my head. Apparently, I've been watching too much Dexter. 

Anyway, after spending a couple minutes studying the selection, I go to reach for a tissue, and guess what... they were out. Both tissue boxes had nothing to offer. NOTHING DAMNIT! And the signs on the cabinet doors clearly state "PLEASE USE A TISSUE WHEN SELECTING YOUR  ITEMS. THANK YOU, MANAGEMENT"

"This is a sign..." I say to myself. "I don't need to be here. I shouldn't be here. I'm leaving." So I walk away and catch up with Jesse. 

"Did you get your cookies put away OK, purrrrmkin?" He says. 

"Yes." I respond 

"Well, that took a little while. I'm almost done with my shopping. Yay!" He says as he places an $11.00 bag of bite size chocolate bars in his basket.

"Yeah, I got held up in the donut department. I almost got one but they were out of tissue..." 

"Oh..." he responds.

So, we finish our shopping trip and make it to the register. There's one lady in front of us with a considerable amount of crap in her basket. And, as you all know, those check out lanes are CHOCK FULL of candy bars and ridiculous gossip magazines. As I'm bitching to Jesse about wanting those damn cookies, I start picking up candy bars and reading the nutritional information. 

54g Carbohydrates. 48g Carbohydrates. 83g Carbohydrates. 44g Carbohydrates. 49g Carbohydrates. And then, finally, I find one that I'm willing to give into. A Skore bar with 35g Carbohydrates. I gently place it on top of my toothpaste and look over at Jesse. He looks at me, purses his lips, and goes back to flipping through his magazine. 

"Will you split this with me?" I ask. 

"No." He responds. 

"Please?" I ask.

"No." He says again. 

I rolled my eyes, took the Skore bar out of the basket, placed it back on the candy rack, went to the produce section and picked up some cauliflower and dill veggie dip (which I'm really excited about!), and returned to our place in line.

Then, when we arrived back to my house, I unloaded my purchases, ripped into my back of cauliflower, tore the seal off my dill veggie dip, slathered a piece of cauliflower in it, took a bite, and... smiled. 

Was it the most delicious thing I've ever eaten? Probably not... but it tasted much better than a six inch toffee bar covered in chocolate, 8 cookies with M&M pieces, or a donut soaked in frosting and sprinkles. 

It's these moments that make me remember what it's like to feel good about myself. And I just wanted to share it with all of you =)

I hope all is well with everyone. And don't forget, butchers have two purposes in this world: 

1. To make you feel guilty whenever shopping in the bakery and

2. To deliver just the right size of meat to satisfy your needs. Even tube steak. 

Love ya!

Recently, I was going through bills for three old credit cards back from 2001, 2002, and 2003. Yes, it's been that long since I've cleared out my filing cabinet, but my parents told me to keep everything for at least eight years. They always told me "you never know what can happen during that time!" And I'm a total safety girl... so, naturally I followed their advice. And now, I have a pretty embarrassing admission to make: all three of those credit cards were included in a bankruptcy I filed in 2004. Yes readers, I filed for bankruptcy at the ripe age of 22. TWENTY FREAKING TWO! Stupid me. Stupid, selfish me. 

When looking through these bills, I saw something pretty sobering. I realized 3/4 of the charges on each and every bill were from restaurants. Johnny Carinos, Denny's, McDonald's, Red Robin, Chili's, Cheesecake Factory, Arby's, Black Eyed Pea, Bennigans, Burger King, Jackson's, Subway, Wendy's, IHOP, On the Border, Del Taco, Village Inn, Olive Garden, Chick-Fil-A... the list goes on forever. And ever. Pathetically ever.

So, being the giant drama queen that I am, I decided to depress myself even more and add up all the money I had spent on eating out over those three years, just on credit. Here's the credit limit on each of those three cards:

Nordstrom VISA: $5,100.00

Bank One VISA: $5,000.00

Compass VISA: $3,600.00 

And here's how much I spent eating out on each card, per year:

2001:

Bank One: $2,476.87 (almost HALF my credit limit)

2002:

Bank One: $983.45

Compass: $1,083.96

2003:

Bank One: $659.05

Compass: $476.45

Nordstrom: $1,984.84

$7664.62 over the course of three years. That's over $2500.00 each year, friends. And really pathetic. NO WONDER I GAINED SO MUCH WEIGHT! I was eating everything in sight. And, oddly enough, Ryan's post about stress eating allowed me to make sense of the incredible amount of money I spent getting myself fat. I was totally stress eating, because during this time, I was sleeping in the ExHotGirl's living room (making her life hell and preventing her from getting a kitty), working my ass off for $11.00 an hour at the shittiest company on earth (Equity Residential), dealing with coming out to my parents, supporting a very needy dog, making an expensive car payment, traveling to a boyfriend in Boulder (almost 60 miles round trip, while gas was almost $4.00 per gallon) twice a week, visiting my family in Colorado Springs (70 miles one way), and trying to make all other ends meet. Nothing screams broke like having to buy toilet paper on credit.

I've since then (well, most recently) realized that eating at home makes it: 1) much easier to eat healthy, 2) much easier on the wallet and 3) incredibly easier to deal with life's craptastic moments when you're at home, in your own space and element, and around the food you trust to be your friend and make you feel good, both inside and out. Because there's nothing like piece of turkey breast with a slice of cheddar cheese to make your day better.

Seriously.

Well, I finally have some time myself friends... and thank god for that! Work has been crazy and, as you can tell from my previous post, more ridiculous than ever! But I'm pushing right on through like the little trooper I am.

**Deep Breath**

So, how've all you been? The comments have slowed down and I haven't heard from some of you in quite a long time. And I figure that's for one or more of four reasons, which are: 1) I've managed to offend you enough that you just don't read the blog anymore, 2) The stuff I'm writing about is just so boring that you want to stab yourself in the left eye with a #2 pencil every time you visit the blog, 3) You're paying me back for not commenting on your blog, or 4) You're tired of listening to me whine and bitch about falling off the wagon and work related stuff.

Either way, it must be known that I don't take offense when I don't get a ton of comments on all my posts. It used to be the thing I based my self-worth on... but now I just pay attention my little stat-counter dealy-bob, which tells me my blog gets plenty of hits every day. And that keeps me happy =) 

Alright... on to the purpose of this post. I've hit a plateau! Whoo Hoo! 

Now, I know what you're all thinking: "That's not a GOOD thing, WES. You freakin moron!"

I'd like it noted that I cannot believe today is the 19th of September. 

I digress. I know hitting a plateau really isn't that great of thing. After all, it means that I've stopped losing weight and have successfully put my body into hibernation mode. In fact, I've gained some weight. I'm above 170 again. But I'm not looking at this as a bad thing. I'm looking at it as an opportunity to wake my body back up and teach it who's boss here. 

The first time I ever did low-carb, I lost about 50 pounds over the course of nine-months. And, I've only lost about 10 pounds over the course of two months. I've been teetering between 165 and 169.  And today, I reached the 171 mark. And yes, I'm sure that's partially due to the fact that I've fallen off the weight loss train a few times. But even with those setbacks, I should still be able to cut off some weight. I seriously think it's because I've been on and off low carb so many times that my body has finally said to itself "Oh here we go, A-GAIN. Been on this roller coaster once or twice before. Why the hell should I start losing weight when I know this jackass is just going to make me gain it back again? I'm just going to stop burning fat now and save myself the headache of putting it all back on again in another few months."

Well, I've got news for my body. Some changes are on the way! For the past two months, it's been nothing but (OK, well... mostly) turkey, celery and peanut butter, cucumber salads, salads to boot, peanuts, almonds, low-carb tortillas, and copious amounts of diet soda and iced tea. Not bad, but could be a little more involved. You know, a little more food pyramidish. SO, after payday on Friday, and after I manage to rid my house of all the foods I'm used to eating, imma hit up good old King Soopers and stock up on sausage (Italian!), some lean red meat, pork, and (oh my god I can't believe I'm about to say this), fish. Ugh! Generally, I hate fish. The only fish I've really come to like is Arctic Cod. I find it pretty enjoyable when it's deep-fried and slathered in tartar sauce. But since that's not an option, I'm going to try tons of lemon and a bit of butter. I need figure out how to cook it, however. I'm also going to be getting more chicken. Pre-cooked chicken, that is. I'm a freak about cooking chicken. In fact, I can't even cook it, because I burn the living hell out of it. All because I'm so freaked about salmonella poisoning. Either way, it'll be making it's way into my house soon.

Also on the grocery list are plenty of cucumbers, lots of lettuce, a little less diet sodas, cottage cheese, celery, cauliflower (I'm going to start steaming, mashing, and flavoring them, which I'll post on here soon!), sugar-free JELL-O, and absolutely NO MORE LOW CARB TORTILLAS. First of all, they're a rip-off. Second, they make me bloated. Third of all, they're not that good and leave a weird after-taste in my beautiful, curse word ridden mouth. Other stuff that's coming off the list: CarbSmart ice cream bars (I think they're BS), peanut butter, sugar-free jelly, and some frozen meals. I'm also giving up coffee (p'sha... riiiight).

Between now and then, I'm going to research some foods and their carb content and add those to the list, as well. I'll let you all know what I find! I'm looking forward to discovering some new stuff to eat and enjoy. 

Hopefully adding some different items to my diet will kick my body back in gear. And in just about a month, it's going to be gym-thirty. And I know that'll definitely shock my body into transformation mode! Oh! You know what!? I should get the Transformers logo tattooed on my forehead. You know, as a hood ordainment? Just like they did in the movies! Then when people are like "dude, why do you have a transformer on your face?" I'll just rip my shirt off, flex and respond with "because I'm a transformer, bitch! Rwwwwwaaaaar!"

Alright, I'm going to stop rambling here. I'm off to read a bunch of weight loss blogs and get super inspired! 

Much love (and tomorrow is an effing Monday...)

Wes!

Oh. Ehm. Eff. Gee. Today was awful at work readers! I've never had so many fires to put out at once. It was mostly upset residents... most of them with legit reasons to be pissed off. But every now and then, I get that one person who thinks the world is out to ruin their lives:

"Good afternoon, thank you for holding. This is Wes..."

"Wes, this is Miranda from apartment so and so"

"Hey, how's it goi..."

"Wes, you know how you have the landscapers here doing to the grass and blowing the leaves?"

"Yeah..."

"Well there's dust. Dust all over my car now from them blowing the leaves."

**Rolling Eyes**

"OK, well Miranda. I can't do anything about that. Those leaf blowers are going to kick up dust when th..."

"I know that Wes, but you need to control the landscapers. They can't just walk around the property with those things all willy nilly. My car is covered in dust. I mean... COVERED in it."

**Rolling Eyes**

"Miranda, I'm not sure what you want me to do."

"Talk to the damn landscapers! God, isn't that obvious? They're your landscapers! Not mine!"

"And tell them what? That they need to dust off cars after blowing the leaves? That they can't blow dust into the air with their 100MPH leaf blowers?"

"I don't appreciate the sarcasm, Wes."

"Then tell me what you would like me to tell them, Miranda. Because I really am at a loss of wha..."

"You tell them to blow the dust AWAY from the cars."

"Miranda, the landscapers do blow the dust away from cars. But it's impossible to keep the dust that's in the air from blowing around and hitting vehicles. I don't control the wind currents."

"Well, what about rakes? They sell those at Wal-Mart. Go get these people some rakes!"

"Miranda, you try and rake leaves, twigs, pine cones, and pine needles off a 9 acre property and tell me how long it takes you. Give me a break here."

"Well, who's going to come wash my car then!?"

"Nobody from here..."

*Click*

Yes readers. This is my life. Add to the above a resident who was pissed because the cabinets in his apartment didn't match the ones in the model (and actually thought a $200 discount every month was a reasonable request for the mix up), another resident who just assumed he was going to get a carport with his new apartment (even though it was blatantly obvious on his paperwork that that was not the case whatsoever), another resident who was pissed about the lease violation notice he received in regards to the frat-style kegger he had on a TUESDAY night, complete with weed, a live DJ, a puke-a-palooza off his balcony, over 40 people crammed into his two-bedroom apartment, and enough drunk, underage girls to cement a felony charge on his permanent record for life, and finally, one resident who was so effing stupid, that it took me thirty... THIRTY minutes to explain exactly how to call the utility company and change the gas and electric into his name so that we aren't billing him back for it. And on top of all that, dealing with seven new move-ins, a resident who has yet to turn her keys in so we can have enough time to turn her apartment for the new resident arriving on the 15th of this month, a resident who "isn't really sure" when she'll be able to pay rent (but manages to keep her cable on, cruise around the property on her iPhone4, keep her husband's XBox games stocked to the kilt, and take cruises to Ireland), a maintenance supervisor on vacation, a boss who's distraught about her son leaving home to live in AZ, a leasing consultant who's managed to lease one single apartment to three different people, and a corporate office crawling up my ass about reports, reports, reports.

All this... before lunch.

And people wonder why I drink and smoke. Hey-Zeus Christie!

So, today on my lunch break (my twenty-minute lunch break, thank you very much), I ate some pickles and mustard rolled up in some oven-roasted turkey breast, green beans in a little marinara sauce, a diet soda, a few slices of mozzarella, and finished it all off with a brownie... which was the size of my face.

Yeah... I wish I was joking. The size of... muh face. 

Comment away readers. I know you're disappointed in my ugly brownie face.

I hate that I succumb to stress-eating. Hate it. I hate stress. I hate eating. I hate brownies. Well, I hate brownies the size of my face. Anyway... this is me falling off the wagon, yet again. B

Tomorrow's another day though, right!? Tomorrow's going to be fabulous! Tomorrow is Friday! I am going to make tomorrow a better day from the start! Like I said before, it's a mind over matter thing. And I don't know why I forgot that today over my lunch break. I think my mind was so clouded with bullshit, that I just threw everything out the window. If I would have just calmed down and not stressed so hard about everything that was going on, I doubt this would have ever happened. Well, actually... had I just thrown the damn brownies out like I wanted to, this definitely wouldn't have happened. But whatever. It happened. I feel crappy for it. It's time to move on.

Like I said, comment the hell out of me. I deserve it. 

But, on a more fun note, I'd like to give all my apartment-dwelling readers a 15-point insight into a very big business:

1. When your apartment complex hands out a rent increase at lease-renewal time, it's for three reasons: (i) your community manager is trying to keep her boss and all the other corporate cheese-heads happy by showing them an increase in revenue, (ii) it is the company taking their slice of the market, and (iii) it's because occupancy is good and they can afford to lose you if they're able to re-lease the apartment at a much higher rate. So yes, it's all about the money. People do not own and operate apartment complexes out of the goodness in their heart. They're in this to make money.

2. Contrary to popular belief, a rent increase is NOTHING PERSONAL. Yes... you may pay your rent on time, not cause problems, keep your music down, and follow the rules. But, when it comes down to it, you're doing exactly what you agreed to do when you signed your lease.

3. A rent increase of 20 or 30 dollars is reasonable. If you're happy where you live, take it and move on. It'll cost you a lot more to move. If you can't afford that, you're living beyond your means, and you need to move. A rent increase of 60 or 70 more dollars a month is reasonable, as well... but should be negotiable. Call your leasing office. Anything over 80 dollars means one of two things (or both): your management company is insane or (ii) the community is doing incredibly well with occupancy and rate. They can afford to lose you because they're confident they can re-lease the apartment at the rate they offered you, or higher. Don't take it personal. It's not that they don't like you or think you're a bad resident. They're protecting their investment... and you can't blame anyone for doing that. But, in most cases, it will still cost you more to move.

4. Fill out your move-in report (you know, that piece of paper that asks you to document any existing damage in the apartment on move-in day) and deliver it back to your leasing office with pictures. Ask them to place both in your file. This will save your ass on move-out day if they try to charge for damage that was there when you moved in.

5. Put your damn dog on a leash and PICK UP AFTER IT.

6. So you think you're the shit, huh? Well, calling up to the leasing office screaming, yelling, and barking demands at the management staff will get you one thing: a dial tone. If you're frustrated... a calm, reserved request to have your concerns addressed will get things done much faster and will keep your name from popping up when the management team is bitching to their hubbies about work.

7. Pay your rent... on time. Bookkeepers have heard every story in the book. "My mom is in the hospital...", "I had a family emergency...", "I was on vacation and forgot...", "I didn't realize it had to be in by the 3rd day of the month...", "I was in a car accident...", "My account was hacked into!", "I put the check in the drop box, I don't know why you didn't get it...", "I didn't get my paycheck...", "I'm waiting on a commission check...", "I had a machete go through my foot and was in the emergency room...", "My left nut fell off and rolled into a street drain... I've been chasing it for like... three days...". Now, obviously, there are legit reasons for not being able to get your rent in on time. But don't feed the bookkeeper at your community a load of crap. They'll see right through it. If you're paying late because of your own fault, buck up and pay the late fee. It'll teach you to get it in on time. And if you have a payment arrangement, make good on your promise or your "word" will mean nothing the next time you need some help. P.S.: Any management company that does not waive your first-time late fees as a "one time courtesy" is mean and awful, and you should consider not renewing your lease. Everybody effs up or needs a little help every now and then, am I right?

8. Be reasonable with your requests to the management office. Excessive wind chimes on your neighbor's patio, dust on your car from leaf blowers, and requiring the pool be at 87.6 degrees at all times are not reasonable requests. Think before you ask... and remember, you're living in a community, not a single family home.

9. Things break and go down. Especially things like treadmills, complementary wifi, tanning beds, pools, hot tubs, steam rooms, and projectors in the theater room. Please be understanding. And don't ask for a credit on your next month's rent for these things. They're called amenities for a reason... they're available to you free of charge. Look it up, pumpkins.

10. If you're going to get upset about it taking almost two days to get a light bulb replaced in your apartment, drop the three dollars and go get a four-pack yourself. The maintenance team on your property is trying address higher priority issues... like clogged toilets, leaking pipes, non-working appliances, and no heat or no A/C calls.

11. Because your management team provides treats, it does not mean you can send your children to the leasing office for dinner. Granola bars, soda, and cookies hardly provide them a well-balanced meal.

12. No, your management office is not required to call you when there is a package waiting for your face to come pick it up. That's the job of UPS, FedEx, and USPS. =)

13. There are a few things your management company will not do, because of liability reasons: (1) jump-start your car, (2) hang your flat panel TV, (3) move things around or out of your apartment, (4) provide you with a ladder or any power tool, (5) let you "joy ride" on the golf cart, and (6) allow you to use the clubhouse after hours. 

14. We cannot make exceptions for you, but not for anyone else, when it comes to anything. And I mean ANYTHING. There's this little thing we operate under... and that's the Federal Fair Housing Law. That's right... the government controls what we do (but what else is new?).

15. Visit your management office frequently. Say wassup. Believe it or not, 90% of the folks who work in this industry do it because they love the interaction they get with so many different people. I'm serious. Just visit the office to say hi. Talk with the guy or gal who leased you your apartment. If they don't remember you, don't take it personal. Remind them who you are... and they'll either remember you or pretend to. HA! Either way, when you do this, you turn yourself into a friend and a resident... not just the person in 4B.

It may be hard-hitting for some of you reading this. But it's the blatant, honest truth. It's how things work. It's the nature of the beast. And I'm sorry for skewing into this giant tangent of apartment-living hell, but I figured some, most, or all of this could help my readers understand how the industry really works. I know it's where many of you may live, but reality speaks... and just like any industry, it involves balance sheets, accounting, budgeting, and every other aspect of any business. And a little bit more. And why, sometimes, it makes me eat brownies the size of my face.

I wrrrruuuvvvv all of you! And thanks for reading =)

Still feeling that brownie,

W.

Gawd friends... I'm so down on myself. I need to get over this hump... and BAD. I'm sorry... did I say hump? I meant to say habit. Wait... did I say habit? I meant to say habits. Sorry 'bout that! 

I feel like such a loser lately, and not in the good way! Can I get a giant hand in the shape of an "L" over the forehead please? Bleh!

Yesterday, I ate an entire cheese pizza. All of it. Every last bit. And, on top of that, a half pan of brownies from King Soopers (which WE ALL KNOW are the best). It was Labor Day... and I was making excuses for eating like crap. Stupid excuses, I know. But they were my excuses. And so was, AND IS, the heart burn and bloating. They go along with the territory. With every up, there is a down... but in my case, to every down, there is an up. A burning, bloated, burbling, burping up. Fucking carbs. Why do they even have to exist? In fact, why do taste buds even have to exist? What's their purpose, other than ruining my life and making eating celery as a snack something that should be given to someone as a mean, torturous trick? 

Eating sucks sometimes. =(

But here's the true reason for this post... is this really weight loss, readers? Sitting in front of my TV with a pack of smokes and a twelve pack in the fridge? Do I really want to tell myself that THIS is the schedule of a healthy person:

1. Wake up.

2. Pee. 

3. Shower. 

4. Drink Coffee. 

5. Sit behind a desk for almost nine hours... stressed out, under-paid, and over-worked. 

6. Pee. 

7. Arrive home. 

8. Watch porn. Get a little tickle. 

9. Shower.

10. Lounge on the couch for almost seven hours, marathon-watching HBO mini-series while drinking beer, smoking, and eating low-carb.

Well, the obvious answer here is: "Absolutely Wes! This is what a person does to become healthy. All the hot, muscular men around you do the same exact thing! Except they cut out numbers 4, 5, 8, and 10. Well, maybe not number 8, but who knows? Everyone loves porn. Anyway, it's only four tenths of your list, yo!"

Yeah... almost half of what I do every day needs to be changed. Ugh. Not easy... yo. 

... blink, blink. 

Here's my five-step plan to ween myself off these bad habitos (that wespanish for "habits", you know):

First step: No more drinking on school nights. 

Second Step: Get off the smokey treats. 

Third Step: Brownies down the garbage disposal

Fourth Step: Find a damn hobby, other than TV and my fat ass on the couch. 

Fifth Step: Research workouts online and get my plan together for the winter. 

... leg itch.

Alright friends. Starting tomorrow, no more beers. And a nice, healthy meal followed by (I'm not gunna lie) a smokey treat. Then after that, research on workout plans. Followed by a overly-dramatic episode of my person sitting in a dark corner crying while asking for a giant plate of brownies. 

Just kidding. But only about the brownie part. 

... blink. 

Thanks for listening in friends! I look forward to your comments and new posts. And, just as an FYI, I'm still reading all your blogs, but haven't had a chance to comment on all your great successes. I LURRRRV reading them all and can't wait for the next update =) 

Air Hug (and tomorrow maybe carmel corn), 

Wes

Hi friends! Hope everything is wonderfully well with you all! The Ex Hot Girl is currently shaking her face off at the John Mayer concert at Red Rocks, my computer no longer plays video (which is a HUGE problem, and you all know for what reason), it's the first of the month, which means an insane next four days at work, I have a cat palm on my patio that's basically committing suicide despite how much I water and sunshine I give it, my three day weekend is shot thanks to work, I'm currently dealing with a clothing CRISES (nothing is fitting right!), and there's this promotion that I keep interviewing for at work that I don't even think I want. 

Bleh. Life is sucking the big one right now. And not in the good way. 

Anyway, I was thinking a few days back about my last post about getting back into the gym once winter arrives. I need to get a freaking plan together! And fast. Winter is seriously right around the corner... usually the end of September / beginning of October is when the weather really takes a sharp turn in Colorado. It's already dropping into the 40s at night. And what's really worrying me is that I am going to get stuck doing the same thing I did last winter:  sitting on the couch, snacking my balls off, and marathon-watching rented HBO and Showtime series' (or would that just be "series"?). 

.... *blink*

So here's my plan:

I'm cutting off all communication with my friends and family, moving to an undisclosed location, changing my phone number, selling myself on xTube, paying for everything with cash, doing nothing but working out and eating right, and living vicariously through GayWeigh. Seriously... I think that's the only way I can accomplish what I want to. I just need to not have a life and make this thing totally mind over matter. I need to write down the habits I need to lose, the habits I need to gain, figure out how to not alienate everyone around me by changing those habits, and still stay sane and stable. 

So, just as a quick list, here are the habits I need to change:

1. Smoking and doing things that I associate with it... like drinking coffee. 

.... *pursing lips*

Eff this, It's not going to work. 

Just kidding. Moving on:

2. Polishing off twelve-packs on work nights. 

3. Making no effort when getting ready for work.

4. Chewing my damn finger nails.

5. Looking at myself in the mirror with disgust.

6. Snacking, snacking, snacking, snacking, snacking, snacking. And snacking. 

7. Chowing down on Tums every time I eat bad.

And here are the habits I need to gain:

1. Thinking about 5.30PM as time to hit the gym, not time to hit the couch. 

2. Hanging out with healthy people who hate fast food.

3. Getting at least seven or eight hours of sleep every night. 

4. Taking more pride in the way I maintain my body... like trimming, manscaping, and moisturizing. 

5. Looking at myself in the mirror with motivation. 

6. Trying on clothes before buying them, despite what the result may be. 

7. Making the plan for after work to be eating right, working out, and getting in bed before midnight. 

8. Finding hobbies that (i) do not allow me to drink, (ii) create a sense of accomplishment and (iii) make me feel like I've reached a goal. 

9. Remembering how awful I feel after eating badly. 

10. Talking more about fitness with my ex personal trainer and less about his penis.

11. Budgeting.

So there it is... BAM! The starting list of things I need to lose and gain. The problem I'm facing, however, is that most of the things I need to gain require more time... which I already feel like I don't have enough of. As you all may remember from my previous posts, I'm all about fast, convenient things. I don't want to spend an hour cooking dinner. I don't want to spend a ton of time shopping for clothes. I don't want to feel like I'm under the clock all the time, like I do at work. 

So what's a homo to do? How do I change all these things without leaving my friends and family behind? If I do change these things, but still hang around people who love to drink, eat pizza and french fries, and not make fitness a part of their lives, I'm afraid I'll get sucked back into my old habits. And on top of that, how do I find time to do my thang, while still doing their thang? I know it's not normal to feel this way, but I'm not sure how to gain new fitness-friendly friends while still maintaining all the friendships I've gained. The plan in my head doesn't allow for me to see my current friends very often... and only allows time for work, gym time, and sleep. 

I'm torn, yo.

Hey Readers! Hope is all well and skinny in your world!

I'm so excited for winter to arrive (for once in my life), because it's when I'm going to hit the gym hardcore, and do some major cardio and weight-lifting. As you may all remember, I decided to focus on weight loss over the summer, since there were too many tempting distractions during the summer months (i.e. BBQ's, bar-hopping, vacations, and visiting friends) that I knew would interfere with my ability to stick to any sort of workout plan.

I'm contemplating getting back together with my old personal trainer as well, and having him kick my ass in the gym-o-riffic. He's quite the cutie patootie: 

And totally straight. And the person responsible for this. Talk about motivating! You need to visit the Genesis Health and Fitness website right now and read about what he, and his entire crew, are about. Then, you need to sign up for the program. They're all good people and have changed the lives of so many men and women, and in such a positive way. The team at Genesis and Health and Fitness truly are about serious health and well-being.

Anyway... back to me:

I need to find some intense workouts for the winter. I've been researching them online, and have found nothing. Zero. Zilch. Zippo. NADA! And that's no me gusta! And a huge problemo.

Who's got some good workout tips? Tell me readers... what do you do at the gym, and how often do you do it?

And for several reasons:

1. I haven't updated you all since the 11th. Yeah... that's nine days. Almost a week and a half.

2. Last Tuesday, I ate chicken nuggets and french fries for dinner.

3. On Wednesday, I had more french fries and an entire hamburger for lunch.

4. On Thursday, I ate pizza and bread sticks for dinner. And had like... nine beers. ON A THURSDAY. 

5. And then, since being bloated and having heartburn weren't enough, I PIGGED... THE EFF... OUT at Taco Bell last night.

I feel like a fallen soldier. Good Lord! AMAZINGLY, this morning I weighed in at 166.6... three pounds less than my last weigh-in on the first of August, which was an even 169. And what's with the triple sixes!? Someone is trying to tell me something! Don't ask me how I managed to accomplish 166.6, because I have no idea. And, I'm not holding my breath, either. I'm sure I'll see ALL those meals packed on later next week some time.

I do want to apologize for the lack of updates, though. It's been such a crazy week at work, and I've been so stressed, that I've done everything I can to avoid having to look at a computer screen. I've been using that lump three feet above my ass (thank you, A League of Their Own) to do nothing but watch TV and veg my chubby little face on the couch. I'm proud to announce that today... I officially feel like crap. Like a bloated walrus ready to give birth. Like a lounge singer, straining to get her voice to reach the man in the back corner of the bar. Like the way I felt when I first started this whole journey. And I hate it. 

Lesson learned. And I'm going to start following Denise and Nick's advice. I'm starting a little notebook that documents how I feel after eating badly. In fact, I think I'll post it here for you all to see. That way, I'm not only accountable to myself, but to you all, as well. I'll title them... "Food Hangover". Because that's exactly what they are! Let me tell you about this morning, and my first Food Hangover:

This morning involved a very bloated belly, which I looked at with disgust and regret. I looked almost prego, and my belly was hard to the touch. "Ugh...!" I thought to myself, as I rolled the blankets back over myself so I didn't have to look at it. I fell back asleep for about an hour... and woke up with some really, really bad heartburn. "You're an idiot, Wes." I tell myself. I roll myself out of bed, put on my shorts, and buckle my belt a little bit looser. "That's familiar" I say out loud. Rolling my eyes, I head off to the bathroom, whip Jr. out, and as I look down, I really see the damage. I was so bloated, the bottom of my shirt didn't even touch the waste line of my pants (as it usually does). I rolled my eyes again, rubbed them, moaned, flushed the toilet, grabbed four Tums, and headed out into the living room. I sat down, and since I was so bloated, had to unbuckle my belt and lay back to relieve the pressure on my mid-section. I chowed down on the Tums to get rid of my heart burn, and just sat there... for an entire half an hour. I was thinking about why in the hell I let myself get so out of control the night before and the days before that: "What was it that caused me to skew off my path?" "Why did I even think it would be OK to go overboard by so much?" "Where did eat I that gave me no option for eating right?" "Who forced these items down my throat and who was I hanging out with?" "When did I decide that I felt good enough to eat as I did?"

I came to one simple conclusion: there was no who. No what. No when. No where. And definitely no why. It was me. ALL ME. I let me do this to myself. Because, there was no place, no person, no reason, and no point in which I felt good enough to be bad. I did this to myself, and I deserved every inch of the way I felt.

I stood up, rubbed my eyes again, and said to myself "this is a new day... and you're going to get back on track and stick to it, you homo. Just like you have for the past two months. Don't fall off again, like you usually do. You promised yourself... and everyone reading your blog, as well. You now have more than just yourself to answer to. And Jenn's going to be PISSED when she hears about this."

I then undressed, got in the shower, scrubbed myself squeaky clean, dried off, got dressed, and headed out the door with my bloated belly on a mission for a low-carb lunch salad, grilled chicken patty, and diet soda. And, of which, I was able to accomplish at Buffalo Wild Wings... and I owe that to all of you. Cause had all of you not been commenting and holding me accountable, I would have woken up and said "Well... that's that. I'm all fat and bloated now. Might as well go get 907 pancakes and 47 sides of hashbrowns and call it a day! Oh, I need 18 tubs of extra buttery-flavored syrup too!"

So I thank you, my readers, for following, reading, and commenting. It keeps me in check, and in this case, gets my ass back on track.

Here's to getting back in the game... and here's to you! Muah!

Hey everyone! I wanted to share with you a salad that Jesse made at my house on Sunday. It was incredibly simple:

Lettuce (in a salad... no way!)

Radishes 

Mushrooms

Sprouts

Low Fat Balsamic Dressing

... and SUPER DELICIOUS. I couldn't believe how good this was. And I hate mushrooms and radishes. And Balsamic. Don't ask me why, but for whatever reason the combination of these items made this salad awesome and irresistible. He gave me a taste and I almost beat him up so I could steal the bowl and eat the rest. But that would have left him with nothing to eat, and that would have been very unbecoming of a lady. 

Enjoy!

Good one this week readers! Here's Art, an all-American 8-Pack. Photographed by Greg Vaughan:

Yes, readers. I am short. And sweet. ;-) 

Just a quick update from the Denver homo. Sorry I haven't blogged much over the past week. Not much has been going on in my world... except for the fact that I'm up to 169.2 pounds. Bleh! It was those DAMN FRIES! Ugh... I'm PISSED! That's ok. It's only two pounds, right? That'll come off faster than my pants when standing next to Jason Ritter. What sucks is it seems those pounds just can't come off fast enough, agreed?

Anyway, with the extra weight gain I'm really focusing hardcore on my eating and trying to drink tons of water. It feels like it's helping, but I definitely haven't woken up for a while with that "super-fabulous-skinny" feeling. I'm hoping it'll come back before the weekend, when the ExHotGirl arrives for a whole week! I'm so excited I could just spit. 

How is everyone doing on their eating and exercising plans? Has the thought of fall and winter arriving (and the baggy clothes that go along with it!) made anyone tempted to slip up and eat an entire birthday cake, a bucket of Miracle Whip, or down three boxes of Cheez-Its? Because I had a dream about doing all of that just the other night. Not really, but I'm still trying to figure out if it would be classified as a regular dream or one of those fancy wet dreams. Hmmm... 

So that's the latest from me! And in the words of Jermaine Stewart: We Don't Have To Take Our Clothes Off... to Have a Good Time.

Well, sort of. On Friday, my boss and I went out to lunch at Red Robin® together. It was a beautiful day, I was feelin' skinny, and was in a great mood. For the time being, anyway. 

As we entered the restaurant, all I could smell was yummy sesame seed buns and french fries. You know... those two things that are 100% forbidden on my eating plan. The two things I miss the most. The two things that make me act like Roger Rabbit after a shot of whiskey.

Anyway, we sat down and I started looking over the menu chock full of deep-fried chicken fingers, nachos, onion rings, french-fries-with-everything entrees, and deep-fried chicken burgers. It was awful. But, I decided to be a good boy despite how skinny and wonderful I was feeling. I ended up ordering just a regular hamburger, protein style, on a plate, with no tomato and no cheese. I was like "yeah... go Wes. Even though the waitress thinks you're a freak for eating a hamburger without the bun, it doesn't matter. In fact, if she wanted a good tip, she would have said 'oh my god... i love my burgers like that!', but she didn't. So eff her!"

Anyway, my boss ordered her little BBQ Grilled Chicken wrap thingy and an iced tea. "Not bad..." I think to myself. "I can deal with watching her stuff her mouth hole with that. Suh-weet-ah". And then she went and did it. She ordered a basket of fries as an appetizer.

"Bitch." I think to myself. 

I turned my head to the waitress, in hopes that she would be responding with a "Oh, I'm sorry. We're out of french fries today. Would you like some lettuce to chew on?" But no. The only thing that comes out of her mouth is "absolutely!". 

"Bitch. No tip." I think to myself.

I stare down at my Diet Coke. I take a sip and slunch back in my chair. I know it's over. I was already thinking of being bad when we were on our way to the restaurant. And, even though I ordered properly and totally well, I knew that a basket of fries to start with was going to send me over the edge. Just the thought of watching my boss dip those huge, golden, crunchy french fries in ranch dressing and put them in her mouth (where her taste buds are!), was killing me. And, it was at that point, I realized I had royally screwed up. I forgot to tell the waitress to sub my fries for a side salad. And so, at that point, I realized it was totally over. French fries in my face before and during the meal!? It. Was. Over. 

The basket of fries arrives. I pick around for the small ones. "One or two won't hurt" I keep telling myself. And then, when all the small ones were gone, I started on the medium ones. And then when those were all gone, I started with all the big ones (which, in other circumstances, I usually go for anyway). Before I know it, the basket was empty. And my boss, who ordered the damn thing to being with, ended up getting four, FOUR, fries out of the whole basket. 

AND THEN, our food arrives. I have a burger wrapped in lettuce with fries on the side. "This looks effing retarded" I think to myself. "People are looking at me thinking 'Apparently, that dude thinks that subtracting the bun from the equation totally makes the fries okay. Loser.'" So, I pick up my hamburger and chow... the eff... down. I devour this thing faster than anything in the world, hoping it will fill me up enough to not want the fries.

Yeah... right. What was I thinking? I ate every single fry on my plate, and, had a bite of my boss' wrap.

It wasn't until about thirty minutes after lunch that I really felt the effects of my french fry feast. I felt awful. I was bloated. Actually... I was totally bloated, was contemplating unbuttoning my pants, and was sitting in my office chair in total regret. I hated myself for allowing myself to lose control like I did. I totally went overboard and, for whatever reason, couldn't just be satisfied with one or two bites off the french fry train.

I dealt with the bloating for all of Friday, all of Saturday, and finally, FINALLY, today the bloating is gone. I feel like I'm back at where I started on Friday morning, which sucks. I'm right back where I started over two days ago. Bleh! And, while I feel comfortable, again, being able to wear shirts and pants without having to suck it in too much, I am pissed that I had to go through over 48-hours of not feeling so utterly great. It wasn't worth it. And will never be worth it.

And now, I'm happy to report, my wonderful friends and readers, that I've learned my lesson. If I'm going to be a bad boy, I'm only going to do it for hot, muscled men with deep commanding voices. Not for french fries. Not for Snickers. Not for hash browns. And definitely not for cookie dough!

And, also going forward, Paul Walker is perfect. And needs to be the father of my children. And needs to be naked in my bed. Right now. 

But that'll never happen, so instead... here's this:

Enjoy... and thanks for reading!

I've decided these bastards are the enemy, people. The absolute enemy. If there is any fast food joint that should be attacked for providing the most fattening, unhealthy food to the people of this world, it's the KFC and A&W joints littered across America.

Here's the sad, sad story:

Desperate and hungry, my best friend Jesse and I decided to cruise through a KFC/A&W joint located off the beaten path out in BFE. I said "Dude... KFC offers grilled chicken now. We could totally find something there to eat. Just stay away from the cheese-curds, mKay?"

We pulled up to the ordering menu window thingy and spent, at least, five minutes reviewing the menu looking for salads, grilled chicken sandwiches, moderately healthy side dishes, and the like. After a car pulled up behind us, we told the wonderfully understanding and patient drive-through (not drive-thru) attendant that we weren't sure what we wanted, that we were going to circle around, let the car behind us go first, and then order the second time around. "OK... see you soon!" she said. 

We drove around the joint, not speaking a word to each other, most likely because we were in shock, and returned, again, to the ordering menu. After another few minutes, Jesse asks "I'm... I'm sorry. Where are your salads on the menu?"

"Oh... they took the salads off a little while back." the attendant, who'll we'll call Alissa, responds.

"Oh...", we both respond in unison and a little bit of harmony... choir girls! 

"Well," says Jesse, "I'm sorry, but, what is the healthiest thing on your menu then?"

"Well, the grilled Doublicious is most likely the healthiest item on the menu..."

Both of us look at the picture on the menu. It's an original, deep-fried chicken patty slathered with Colonel's sauce, Monterrey Jack cheese, bacon, and honey mustard dressing... all slapped between two Hawaiian rolls. 470 calories, with 23 grams of fat. The grilled version is 360 calories and 11 grams of fat (still, not that fabulous). But here we were, staring at a picture of a delicious, deep-fried chicken patty with a ton of cheese and, oh... my... god... bacon, cheese, creamy sauces, and... (for me)... a bun.

We both panic, I pull out a knife and attempt to stab myself in the face. Jesse (thank god for him) pulls the knife out of my hand and yells "You're doing it wrong!". He slams it into my jugular.

Just kidding. That last part didn't happen. We both actually did the same thing as the first time we drove up... we stared at the menu in confusion, indecision, and frustration. 

Finally, we both realized there was NOTHING on this damn menu we could order and actually feel good about eating. But we sucked it up and went for it. We both ordered the grilled Doublicious. And out of the nine... NINE side items on their "sides menu", there were two "healthy" sides. Corn on the cob (which is slathered in butter) or green beans (which is swimming in butter). We both order the green beans.

On the way back to the house, Jesse freaks out about the sandwich. And he goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on about it. And on about it. And then about it some more. And then on about it a little bit more. And then, yes you guessed it... on about it.

I tell him "Jesse, you ordered the most healthy, available thing on the menu. We both did. Take the bacon off, scrape off the dressing, and your calorie content will drop by quite a bit...". He was happy with that response. 

We ate our dinner. The chicken patty was slathered in grease. The green beans were disgusting (although... Jesse liked them. Him and I have never had agreeing tastes. He likes an arugula salad with grilled duck, cilantro-mango dressing and roasted almonds and I like... steak and potatoes). Either way, the meal was less that satisfying. Actually, it sucked. The food sucked, and so did the customer service. 

I'm gunna reference this. And, I know, the ExHotGirl, will most likely not like that reference, but I have to say it again, I feel Mickey D's has been the most proactive and responsible fast food provider in offering healthier options for it's consumers. KFC and A&W, which is owned and operated by Yum! Brands (also Taco Bell and Pizza Hut), need to get a clue, grab a nutrition menu, and seriously review the content in the content they provide.

Fatty, carbohydrate-laden foods are a thing of the past, friends! We're healthy reader-eaters. We're about convenient, fast, healthy foods. And the first fast-food joint to offer that is the winner. 

McDonald's is first in the running. Any of you want to challenge that?

Comment!

PHENOMENAL, PHENOMENAL, PHENOMENAL, PHENOMENAL! Readers... some good news from the GayWeigh: 

1) In a 136-page ruling, Judge Vaughn Walker has declared Proposition 8, the measure banning same-sex marriage in California, unconstitutional under both the due-process and equal-protection clauses:

Woot, freakin' woot! One our nations most-heavily populated states has finally ruled IN FAVOR of same-sex marriage... as it should be! You can read reactions to the rulings, from both sides of the issue, here.

2) Today, I hit 168 pounds on the scale! You know what that means... I get this fancy little sucker:



That's right all my skinny bitches! Yahoo! It's a party in my skinny pants, and you're all invited. ;-)

3) Today, the day when Rent is considered late at work and late fees are fired onto ledgers faster than you can say "I forgot my most important bill of the month!", I decided to make delivering my "You're rent is late and now your kinda screwed" letters a little more fun by counting how many stairs I climbed up and down while schleping my ass around my three-acre community in 90-degree heat. It's pretty interesting how 3/4 of my late-payers and rubber-check-writing residents are ALWAYS on the third floors. Hmmmm...

So how many stairs did I climb in an hour and half? 307. How out of breath was I? You mean, how NOT out of breath was I! How sweaty was my bodess? Let's just say I showered, changed clothes, cologned, and reapplied the deodorant afterwards. But the most important things is... how did I feel when I sat back in my chair at work? The answer to that is GREAT! Sewper Dewper Ultra Fabulous! Like I was sitting in a giant pool of Josh Duhamel. Like I was sipping on a tall, ultra-chilled glass of Cooler than the World. Like I was driving down Lady Gaga Blvd at 100 MPH (wearing my seatbelt, of course) while listening to "Emotions" by Mariah Carey.

I. Felt. Great.

By no means, however, was this a workout... but it's the first time I've ever returned to work feeling better than I did before delivering my nasty-grams. It's incredible what better eating can do for you...
Please Note: I do not actually enjoy delivering nasty, legal notices to people I barely know that demand money or the keys to their home. But it's my job. And the reason I get a "Thank you!" letter every two weeks in the mail. The exercise is great. The "aftermath", well... can get messy.
 
4) I found twenty bucks in a pair of shorts before doing laundry! TWENTY DOLLARS! That's a week's worth of Cold Stone Ice Cream with extra cookie dough! I mean... crap, I'm sorry... two week's of delicious salads from Sweet Tomatoes.

5) I got laundry done!

6) Today was President Obama's Birthday! Did you sign his birthday card? I did. My message:

7) I called my friend and cowoker today, and he sounds better than ever. He answered the phone with such zealous, I almost cried (gah ahead... call me a total homo. I know you want to). He's been moved to a rehab center about 15 miles north (closer to me!) and is doing great at his rehab thang. Go buddy.

8) I just found out Lakewood (MY hood) is getting a chick-fil-a! CHICK-FIN-ALLY.

Friends, despite spending 11 hours at work yesterday, and 12 today... August 4th, 2010 managed to be one of the most productive, wonderful, exciting, and rewarding days I've experienced in quite a long time. I like to think these things happen because of my new, better outlook on life. That I've manifested these good-haps on a ground more powerful than just material items and hopes and dreams; but rather a true belief in the good things to come. I'm very excited to see what's going to come next! I'm just hoping it will be Hugh Jackman in some amateur home video.

OK. Totally inappropriate.

How are all of you doing!?

So tonight my friend Jesse and I were on our way to get some grilled chicken salads (yum!!), and I started talking with him about this guy I met on Sunday evening through another friend. He was a pretty heavy guy, probably about 310 to 320 pounds, a red head, dressed in Prada sunglasses, and was wearing some fancy flip flops with linen pants. As I was describing him to Jesse, I told him that I could not help but think of him when I met this fellow. It was like I was staring at a version of Jesse from when I first met him through Jenn, before he had lost almost 100 pounds. The resemblance was pretty uncanny. And I told Jesse "I was looking at him, thinking 'this is where Jesse used to be. He's lost so much weight!'"

After meeting this gentleman, I stood by on the sidelines and listened to him complain to Chris about the new apartment he had just moved into. He was upset because he had been shown a unit that was leased, but was told the studio he would be getting would be exactly the same. Obviously, that wasn't the case. He told Chris the apartment didn't have an air conditioning unit, was on the third floor, not the first and with no elevator, that the closet was about half the size of the one he saw, and that the doorways weren't as wide. He said he could barely squeeze into the kitchen and that he had no room to turn around in his closet.

I told Jesse that last list item hit me in the face like a ton of ice cream trucks. That I walk around too much not thinking about the things heavier people have to account for in their lives. I asked him "wouldn't things like that really motivate you to lose the weight?" And he responded, making a very good point:

"The thing that people don't understand Wes, is that when you're that heavy, doing anything is difficult. Walking up stairs is hard. Getting in and out of a vehicle is hard. Just walking to the mailbox is a chore. And people stand around and look at us and say 'why don't you just get on a treadmill and walk or run?' and it's like 'you expect me, a person who breaks a sweat just walking into work, to get on a treadmill and walk 5 miles per hour? You're crazy'". 

And, that's true. I guess I've never really realized how difficult general life duties can be for someone who is really heavy. And I feel like a total nard face for never realizing it. I can relate to things being a bit more difficult, as I think back to my heaviest days. But I can't relate on a scale that's even close to what Jesse described to me. Things that were more difficult for me were trying to fit into pants, finding clothes baggy enough to hide my belly, and mustering up the energy to walk from the couch to my fridge. For him, it was walking up the stairs in his house and getting out of his car.

I think in the long run, for the gentleman I met on Sunday, it's going to be a good thing he has to walk up three flights of stairs to get to his home. And I have no idea if he is taking any steps to become healthier. I don't know what his day-to-day routine is. But I do know this: the steps he's taking every day to get home are going to help him, hopefully, one day realize that losing weight may not be as hard as it seems. That one day he'll wake up and say "I walk up and down three flights of stairs three to four times a day. If I can do that, then I should be able to walk to work. And if I can do that, then I should be able to spend ten minutes on a bike at the gym. And if I can do that, then I'll be able to walk on the the treadmill for 15 minutes. And if I can do that, then I'll be able to spend a good amount of time on a stair stepper. And if I can do that, then I'll be able to jog on the treadmill for 20 minutes. And if I can do that, then I'll be able to run up the stairs at my apartment complex. And then if I can do that, I'll be able to bike to work everyday. And if I can do that, then I'll be able to mix in some weight training at the gym with my cardio workout. And if I can do that, then I'll be able to..." and before he knows it, he'll look in the mirror and see a skinner, healthier, more energetic him. And from there... take it to a level that's more extreme than anything he's ever done, and continue down the road he's already begun to travel, but at a much faster pace.