Do Not Give Me This Day, My Daily Bread

I started my meatless Lent at 187 pounds.

A week ago I was at 181, and yesterday I hopped on the scale to check to see if I had cracked that mythical 180 mark and perhaps would weigh maybe 179 or so…

Ha…Pictures don’t lie, Bitches!!


I’m back up to 1 frickin’ 85!! WTF!?

How could this be? I eat egg salad, tuna fish, beans, salad…I’m at a loss.

Okay, maybe it’s all of the mayo in the tuna and egg salad, and of course I put that shit in sandwich form. I eat biscuits with my beans.

I eat grilled cheese and this past week we had cheese pizza twice. Ya see a common theme with these things?

Uh-huh…BREAD!! It’s been a Bread-O-Frickin’ Rama ‘round here of late.

Hell, bread based foods have even invaded our health food cabinet.


Crackers, Cheese Nips, Cheesy Fries, Brownies, Swiss Rolls, cookies, corn chips and more…frickin’…bread. Unbelievable.

Except in its beer form, I am off the bread until Easter. No Mas. And guess what else I’m going to do…

Come Holy Week, I am going to fast (once again, that doesn’t count beer and Bagwine) completely on that Thursday, Good Friday, and Saturday.

No food for those 72 hours. I am going to hit that 179 pound mark and come Easter Morning I’ll be one holy, woozy, hung-over son of a bitch.

So let it be written; so let it be done.

And now, to end…a pretty picture for your Monday morning.

Schmoop and I aren’t big Birthday people, but I did buy some flowers for Schmoop for her Birthday the other day.


Pretty, no? And what’s more romantic than placing them in a Budweiser beer stein? Nothing. Even Jeebus liked the array.


Praise be to Jeebus and to a pretty bunch of Alstromerias.

Have a lovely Monday, all.

Cheers!!

Certain Death A-Weights Me

Something hit me recently…

There is a conspiracy afoot that involves my waistline.

Those involved, come from a varied field of friends, family, and present and former fornication partners.

A couple of years ago, I hit my epiphiantic (another new word that I have invented…adj. having the characteristics of inducing an epiphany) body dimensions…

Six foot tall, 265 pounds.

That’s not an incredibly bad build if one is a muscle bound NFL Fullback with 10-12% body fat, but for me? Not so good.

I wrote a post long ago about this aforementioned epiphiantic moment…It was the day when I got dressed one morning and my socks didn’t fit.

My socks, people!! Seriously, how does that happen? No matter how big one gets, doesn’t one’s socks always fit?

Not in my case…I was truly bummed.

I persevered, and after a couple of years I shed many of the pounds through eschewing carbs (yes, even warm, heavily buttered toast…God, I do love toast.)

I ate meat; drank water, and consumed gallons of soup.

After all of the hard work, that has resulted in a Herculean-Like (Rick Hercules, a former plumber who used to live next door to me) physique of 6 foot tall 184, there is a movement abound to strip me of that.

Last week, my Drive-Thru buddy and Pizza Maker, Bill, brought to work a huge plate full of Chicken and Dumplings that he had made and suggested I take it home and eat it.

I did...the entire thing...by myself. It was very good.

As I relayed to you on Sunday’s post, Bill also made a GINORMOUS pepperoni, banana pepper, and double cheese pizza “for Schmoop and I.”

A couple of weeks ago, long time friend Sherri, suggested that I stop losing weight because I am, “melting away”.

Schmoop says the same thing, and often says to me, “Eat Papa, Eat!!”

In a health-related aside, she has also suggested that I take up smoking Camel Non-Filter cigarettes. Hmmmm?

Schmoop’s brother Dave, recently brought me a titanic sized jar full of olives, Hostess Ding Dongs, lunchmeat, and crème puffs.

And the topper? On Sunday, the ex and Ryno came through the Drive-Thru with a hi-caloric and antagonistic thrombotic offering from Chipotle.

The Sunday before, they brought me a sack full of Burger King goodness.

Oh sure, don’t get me wrong…It is very kind of all of these people (minus the Camel Non-Filter thing) to offer their food and their advice, but…

Is it really kind of them, or are they trying to KILL me with kindness?

Is there some type of perverted, insurance policy pay-off cabal being forged by this coven of ne’er-do-wells?

I wonder…Are they really praying for my arteries to burst or my colon to implode?
I don’t know…I hope I find out before it's too late.

In the meantime? Man, all of this crap they’ve been giving me to eat is soooo damn goood.

Cheers!!

Turnbaby is celebrating her 2nd Blogiversary on her BlogTalk Radio show tonight. For details, and to say congrats, click HERE.