Thursday, July 28, 2011

Day 7, I think

   Hello everyone, and by everyone I mean the family members I force to read this on a semi-regular basis. To those of you who have taken my threats seriously enough to show up once more, welcome.

   This is officially week one over of the Lipidsana shakes and the infernal gym. I have been mostly very excellent about eating correctly and drinking my shakes twice a day, and the only day I didn't go to the gym this week I walked like a trooper from home. And whenever I felt down, I- well, lemme explain to you:

  As a general rule, you understand.

   During the course of a short week, I have walked so much nowhere that I believe I'm eligible for some kind of a frequent buyer discount. I have had and lost two whole personal trainers who both looked like they could very potentially knock your tooth out by flexing a bicep. My wanton dreams of wire-fu have been demoted from Kill Bill-like badassery to Reservoir Dogs-style yammering. Ah, but I have watched an episode of Dexter's Labratory from the comfort of a treadmill, and let's be honest- who can really ask any more than that out of life?
   I have yet to do an official weigh-in at the gym to compare my stats with last week's, but I have been torturing a scale at home, and it has not yet betrayed any actual weight loss. In fact, I've actually gone up a jot. This, as you may well imagine, is somewhat frustrating. Several attempts were made to stop being frustrated and start being awesome instead, all of which fell short and sputtered a bit before giving way to images of cheesecakes passed up and slap chips not eaten. Luckily, my mind is of such iron substance that I have convinced myself that my jeans are slightly looser, and a very knowledgeable GP only needed mention the words "maybe water retention...?" and I was all over it like white on rice. So for the record books, perhaps no substantial kilogram loss as of yet, but there has been some (potentially psychosomatic) waist-management (ah ha ha, I kill myself, I really do.)
   In anecdotal news, I do have a small grievance I need to share. Not two days yore, on Wednesday last, some fiendishly fiendish fiend burgled my flappy-eared hat right out of my gym locker. I stashed my entire Treasury of Many Things in one of the provided lockers whilst averting my eyes from naked bums left and right, and when I came back all a-sweating and a-heaving, I found my hat to have been viscously kidnapped. Nothing else at all was taken or touched, which leads me to conclude either a very stupid thief, or a severe under-achiever. Perhaps one of the naked-bummed people opened the locker mistakenly, believing it to be theirs, and expressed brief puzzlement at finding their hat sitting on top of a pile of foreign things before walking off nakedly wearing a little black beanie. Perhaps I'll never know, but my ears felt decidedly naked that day as I trudged home with my Treasury of One Less Thing.

   Today's exercise block shall have to be Gym Lite, as I'm sniffling and coughing like a thing that sniffles and coughs a lot, and I hope not to aggravate the sleeping giant that is a possible full-blown flu right now. There's a good chance I may fall serenely asleep upon my laptop keyboard today, in which case I may be able to figure out how my cat changed my display settings to Russian when she walked across it this morning. I'll post an update of vitalstatistix later when I get back, but until then, thanks for reading dad, and let's not have mince tonight, OK? I'm feeling a porterhouse like a brick wall today. And some Med-Lemon.

Enjoy an official "Before" snap, on the house.

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