Today was weekly weigh-in, and it was a much happier day than last Monday. I finally lost a full pound in a week. Never mind that it was the exact same pound I lost three weeks ago. I managed to lose it again, and that's a good thing.
Also never mind that yesterday morning I weighed even less, a full pound less, so if I could have somehow put myself into suspended animation overnight, my weight loss for the week would have been two whole pounds. But oh, no! My body wasn't going to let me get away with that outrage. So somehow, overnight, it figured out how to pump out another pound of flab from the ether. I ate right; I exercised and my reward was...drum roll please...I gained a pound overnight.
Someone should study how my body is able to manufacture fat cells from thin air. Maybe they could use the technique to mass produce fuel, reduce our dependency on foreign oil and leave our corn crops alone. I just wish I could do that "Instant Perfect Body" thing Pigassus was talking about. But he says he wants to be Justin Timberlake. Why? Has his grey matter been replaced by phat cells?
As for me, I want to be this woman I've been seeing in my dreams for years and years, a woman I know is me. I am slim, willowy and wearing a flowing, diaphanous gown. I am gliding through a verdant meadow, with birds of the field perched upon my arms and flowers twined into my hair. Fragrant blossoms spring up in my path, and I am surrounded by loving, gentle animals. The lion is lying down with the lamb.
I am Mother Nature.
I am also seriously deluded, but that is a whole other post, so back to reality.
Here's my theory on why I gained that pound overnight. I think Pigassus drive two hundred miles during the night, drilled a hole in my skull and extracted my exact thoughts for his last column. So, my theory is that it was brain swelling that caused the weight gain.
It's all your fault, Pigassus!
And please hold the fathead jokes. I am now officially Planet Fat Cat. Despite five weeks of effort, I am still the size of a small outbuilding. How do I know this? Because my yard man accidentally tried to park his lawnmower under my skirt.
But, I am feeling better and stronger. I am mulling over the idea of adding something to my exercise routine other than walking. I have the walking down as a habit now and I feel secure enough to try something else without worrying about keeling over dead. I'm having problems with leg pain and I think it's because I've been doing the same thing over and over for five weeks now. So it's time to try something new.
I will be a goddess again...I will. I just wish I could do that "Instant Perfect Body" thing.
I know, I know. A year from now, I will have an "Instant Perfect Body." I just have to work really hard for it.
Planet Fat Cat
Showing posts with label fat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fat. Show all posts
Monday, October 22, 2007
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Britney Spears is NOT Fat!
Being softies (in EVERY sense of the word...), we here at Fat Chat would like to speak out on behalf of the beleaguered Britney Spears...AKA the former Mrs. Kevin Federline. The following picture was recently published on the World Wide Web under the headline: "Britney Spears is Getting Fat!"
Okay, if Britney Spears is fat is this photo, then I'm a heavenly body. And by that I don't mean I have a beautiful figure. I mean, compared to Britney, I'm a whole other planet. How can I tell I'm a planet? Because of the regular elliptical orbit I maintain...refrigerator, stove, recliner. Refrigerator, stove, recliner. You could set your clock by it.
You might notice Miss Britney is proudly carrying a special award in the above photo. It's the first-ever Fat-Chat Cruller of Kindness award. Brit is so beleaguered these days, we just thought we would give her an award to acknowledge that she is still beautiful and talented, even if she is also making some rather bad choices at the moment.
In fact, upon due consideration, we realized we had to give Britney another accord, this one perhaps not so welcome, the first-ever Fat-Chat Donut of Disapproval. But Miss Fat Cat confesses she felt some trepidation when she was giving out this designation, because the very thing she was trying to cover up..., well, I guess she never took into consideration that donuts have holes in very awkward places. But at least the donut hole is better than seeing Miss Britney's bits.
Upon further consideration, Miss Fat Cat decided she had to make this a whole donut rather than a holey donut. The holey donut was actually quite unholy, and could possibly have offended some of our more tender readers.
Now, for our next topic. Shut up, Cris Crocker. Yes, we said Shut up!
Because you are not the only one who likes Britney and who is willing to go out on a limb to defend her. She may be drunk, disorderly, fast as a pick pocket on pay day and easy as a 10-piece puzzle, but she is not not not FAT. Or even Phat. Okay, Pigassus just told me she is maybe phat. Can I help it if I'm older than God's dog and don't quite understand ebonics?
Yes, we awarded Cris Crocker the second official Fat-Chat Donut of Disapproval. We made him eat it!
Still, it's just not fair. There is such a double standard in Hollywood. Male stars can have paunches down to their knees and still be cast as romantic leads. The 20-something starlets they hire to play the ingenue to the old goat must grimace when they're forced to kiss these geezers for the cameras, but the folks who run Hollywood think it's okay. But just let a female star gain an ounce, get a wrinkle or a grey hair...and God forbid! Run her out of town! Eeeeew! Who does that hag think she is, still trying to work in Tinseltown when she's old and fat?
Yep, it's the old double standard alright. Just let Britney have the teensiest bit of tummy after two prenancies and all of a sudden she's a heifer. I'll tell you who's at fault in that whole Video Music Award thing, other than the person who gave Brit all that joy juice before she went on stage. It's whoever designed her costume and dressed her. Beyonce has a rather pronounced and generous-sized booty, but her mother, who is an ingenius costume designer, makes her clothes to emphasize her tiny waist and flat stomach, and she looks like a dream. Of course, the fact that she is drop dead gorgeous helps a lot, but you get my drift.
As far as I'm concerned. whoever designed Brit's VMA costume is a rather mean-spirited person, because they put parts on full display that could have been camouflaged to make Britney look as slim as she actually is. Instead, she might as well have been wearing a flashing neon arrow pointing at her ever so slightly untoned midriff and making it look 10 times worse than it actually is. By my sights, Britney is still about a size 8 and that's a slender woman. Sure, she has a bit of a rounded stomach, but that's what happens after women have babies, and she's just had two in quick succession.
Take a look at this picture. This is NOT a fat woman. Misguided? Yes. Impulsive and impetuous? Most Definitely. Mother or Driver of the Year candidate? Um, in a word...no. But fat? FAT? Most definitely not. So cut her some slack, world!
Speaking of the double standard, the following male star is still beloved and considered highly sexy, especially by his good friend, Oprah. But look at this picture of him. He is quite frankly, fat. In fact, he is fatter than Fat Cat. But he is still bringing home the bacon...if you get my meaning.
As a matter of fact, that's a whole mess of bacon, that is.
Hmm, bacon. Time to go into orbit. Ta-ta for now!
Planet Fat Cat
P. S. - Planet Fat Cat almost forgot to thank Piggy for his brilliance. She was mulling over the idea of Fat-Chat giving out some sort of awards when he oinked out in an instant - Cruller of Kindness and Donut of Disapproval. Dearest Piggy can always be relied upon to come up with a food-based solution to any problem. However, I had quite a struggle in trying not to eat the awards before I handed them out.
Oink!
I mean, um, er...meow.
Okay, if Britney Spears is fat is this photo, then I'm a heavenly body. And by that I don't mean I have a beautiful figure. I mean, compared to Britney, I'm a whole other planet. How can I tell I'm a planet? Because of the regular elliptical orbit I maintain...refrigerator, stove, recliner. Refrigerator, stove, recliner. You could set your clock by it.
You might notice Miss Britney is proudly carrying a special award in the above photo. It's the first-ever Fat-Chat Cruller of Kindness award. Brit is so beleaguered these days, we just thought we would give her an award to acknowledge that she is still beautiful and talented, even if she is also making some rather bad choices at the moment.
In fact, upon due consideration, we realized we had to give Britney another accord, this one perhaps not so welcome, the first-ever Fat-Chat Donut of Disapproval. But Miss Fat Cat confesses she felt some trepidation when she was giving out this designation, because the very thing she was trying to cover up..., well, I guess she never took into consideration that donuts have holes in very awkward places. But at least the donut hole is better than seeing Miss Britney's bits.
Upon further consideration, Miss Fat Cat decided she had to make this a whole donut rather than a holey donut. The holey donut was actually quite unholy, and could possibly have offended some of our more tender readers.
Now, for our next topic. Shut up, Cris Crocker. Yes, we said Shut up!
Because you are not the only one who likes Britney and who is willing to go out on a limb to defend her. She may be drunk, disorderly, fast as a pick pocket on pay day and easy as a 10-piece puzzle, but she is not not not FAT. Or even Phat. Okay, Pigassus just told me she is maybe phat. Can I help it if I'm older than God's dog and don't quite understand ebonics?
Yes, we awarded Cris Crocker the second official Fat-Chat Donut of Disapproval. We made him eat it!
Still, it's just not fair. There is such a double standard in Hollywood. Male stars can have paunches down to their knees and still be cast as romantic leads. The 20-something starlets they hire to play the ingenue to the old goat must grimace when they're forced to kiss these geezers for the cameras, but the folks who run Hollywood think it's okay. But just let a female star gain an ounce, get a wrinkle or a grey hair...and God forbid! Run her out of town! Eeeeew! Who does that hag think she is, still trying to work in Tinseltown when she's old and fat?
Yep, it's the old double standard alright. Just let Britney have the teensiest bit of tummy after two prenancies and all of a sudden she's a heifer. I'll tell you who's at fault in that whole Video Music Award thing, other than the person who gave Brit all that joy juice before she went on stage. It's whoever designed her costume and dressed her. Beyonce has a rather pronounced and generous-sized booty, but her mother, who is an ingenius costume designer, makes her clothes to emphasize her tiny waist and flat stomach, and she looks like a dream. Of course, the fact that she is drop dead gorgeous helps a lot, but you get my drift.
As far as I'm concerned. whoever designed Brit's VMA costume is a rather mean-spirited person, because they put parts on full display that could have been camouflaged to make Britney look as slim as she actually is. Instead, she might as well have been wearing a flashing neon arrow pointing at her ever so slightly untoned midriff and making it look 10 times worse than it actually is. By my sights, Britney is still about a size 8 and that's a slender woman. Sure, she has a bit of a rounded stomach, but that's what happens after women have babies, and she's just had two in quick succession.
Take a look at this picture. This is NOT a fat woman. Misguided? Yes. Impulsive and impetuous? Most Definitely. Mother or Driver of the Year candidate? Um, in a word...no. But fat? FAT? Most definitely not. So cut her some slack, world!
Speaking of the double standard, the following male star is still beloved and considered highly sexy, especially by his good friend, Oprah. But look at this picture of him. He is quite frankly, fat. In fact, he is fatter than Fat Cat. But he is still bringing home the bacon...if you get my meaning.
As a matter of fact, that's a whole mess of bacon, that is.
Hmm, bacon. Time to go into orbit. Ta-ta for now!
Planet Fat Cat
P. S. - Planet Fat Cat almost forgot to thank Piggy for his brilliance. She was mulling over the idea of Fat-Chat giving out some sort of awards when he oinked out in an instant - Cruller of Kindness and Donut of Disapproval. Dearest Piggy can always be relied upon to come up with a food-based solution to any problem. However, I had quite a struggle in trying not to eat the awards before I handed them out.
Oink!
I mean, um, er...meow.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Oh, It's On and Brought and Such
I think I smell a challenge.
Not the usual kind of challenge like when I try to mix bacon and spinach with tomato and lemon in a cheese soup base with sliced, grilled chicken. No. This is the bitter, disappointing scent of gym socks, tears, and carrots... the weight loss program smell. Fat Cat has, perhaps without realizing it, asked me to duel her to the DEATH in a Winner Loses All Fat Eviscerating Contest.
Okay, that's a bit dramatic. Perhaps, "Loser Wins a Something Fitness Sparing Jamboree."
Which explains the demise of my marketing career and calls into question my sense of smell.
Anywho, what better way to inspire someone than with a good old fashioned trial against a peer-like person? Even though it is commonly recognized that I am perfection and needn't lose any weight, isn't it time I showed my commitment to this site and my friend by going ahead and getting perfecter anyways? Doesn't my appetizer of humility demand a entrée of altruism with just a side of buttery graciousness?
The answer is a tasty YES.
So although friends, relatives, strangers and other ne'er-do-wells all agree that I might actually degrade my looks with a drastic weight loss, I am willing to try for Fat Cat's sake.
Therefore, let the Jamboree begin! We'll work out the rules and prizes and all that gritty, technical mumbo gumbo later.
Pigassus
Post Script 1: In a later post I'll include instructions so that anyone with the "stones" to do so can join in our Jamboree to the DEATH Fat Loss Evisceration or whatever we'll call it by then.
Post Script 2: This morning I weighed 211.5 pounds dry and by the "sc-eye-entific" method it was nearly 90% muscle. Beat that Harvard scale! The oven mitts are off!
Not the usual kind of challenge like when I try to mix bacon and spinach with tomato and lemon in a cheese soup base with sliced, grilled chicken. No. This is the bitter, disappointing scent of gym socks, tears, and carrots... the weight loss program smell. Fat Cat has, perhaps without realizing it, asked me to duel her to the DEATH in a Winner Loses All Fat Eviscerating Contest.
Okay, that's a bit dramatic. Perhaps, "Loser Wins a Something Fitness Sparing Jamboree."
Which explains the demise of my marketing career and calls into question my sense of smell.
Anywho, what better way to inspire someone than with a good old fashioned trial against a peer-like person? Even though it is commonly recognized that I am perfection and needn't lose any weight, isn't it time I showed my commitment to this site and my friend by going ahead and getting perfecter anyways? Doesn't my appetizer of humility demand a entrée of altruism with just a side of buttery graciousness?
The answer is a tasty YES.
So although friends, relatives, strangers and other ne'er-do-wells all agree that I might actually degrade my looks with a drastic weight loss, I am willing to try for Fat Cat's sake.
Therefore, let the Jamboree begin! We'll work out the rules and prizes and all that gritty, technical mumbo gumbo later.
Pigassus
Post Script 1: In a later post I'll include instructions so that anyone with the "stones" to do so can join in our Jamboree to the DEATH Fat Loss Evisceration or whatever we'll call it by then.
Post Script 2: This morning I weighed 211.5 pounds dry and by the "sc-eye-entific" method it was nearly 90% muscle. Beat that Harvard scale! The oven mitts are off!
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Frustration
Tomorrow is weigh-in day and already I'm dreading it. Until now, I could look at my daily weight loss journal entries and even in the spiraling ups and downs of my weight, still see a gradual pattern of weight loss emerging. But this week, the sprials have all been up and what I see emerging, even though I am only four weeks into this thing and have really only lost three pounds or so...is a dreaded "plateau."
Now a plateau, at least in the world of dieters, is when your body basically says, "F@#$!!@!! you!" I've dropped all the pounds I care to drop. You want to lose any more? Get lipo! Get a lap band! Leave me alone. I prefer the ass just like it is now, got it?"
Yes, I know. It's appalling that my body would speak to me in such a manner. I myself was raised by a true Southern belle who had exquisite manners (Thank you, mama...). But since I am the only one who "raised" my body (grew it all by myself, with a little help from Blue Bell and Coca-Cola) it's not quite as well-mannered as I, or at least, as I pretend to be when people are looking.
Translated into plain English, this means my body has gotten used to the amount of exercise I am doing and the type and amount of food I am eating and in order to lose more, I am going to have to do more and eat less.
I HATE THIS! IT'S NOT FAIR!!!
I must take a few paragraphs to whine. Don't you think giving up guzzling Coca-Cola should count for something? By my estimate I got rid of 897 calories a day just by switching to water (3 12-ounce cans a day x 155 calories = 465 calories + one 32-ounce gut buster from any convenient drive-in a day at 432 calories = 897 empty liquid but simply divine calories a day.) Multiply that times the 28 days I have been on this program and it equals 25,116 calories. Divide that by 3,500, the number of calories you have to either burn or give up to lose one pound, and that equals 7.176 pounds. So, survey says, I should have lost 7.176 pounds from this sacrifice alone by now, but my body is saying, "Oh, hell no!"
That's not even taking into account the ice cream and chocolate I have given up, or the hot, buttery, crunchy cinnamon toast that I make so well but won't let myself make any more because I am trying to become healthy.
That's also not taking into account the fact that over the last month, by sheer dint of will, I have transformed myself from:
• a human sloth who got up and moved away from my computers (yes, there's more than one) only to eat, go to work and attend to the call of nature
into:
• a fantastic human exercise machine
Um, err, well...
into:
• a human sloth who grudgingly gets up on the treadmill every day so I can make an honest check mark in my 90 Day Fitness Walking Program journal.
So with all the calories I've burned walking this past month and all the calories I haven't taken in by giving up many of my favorite indulgences and NOT replacing them with any other indulgence, I think I should have lost 10 pounds or so by now. But once again, my body is saying, "Oh, hell no! We likes it fat! We likes it blubbery!" (I have no idea why my body is talking like Golem, but it's kind of creepy and scary...)
So this week, despite my faithfulness to the program and sticking mostly to my diet (what's one Chocolate Eruption amongst friends?) despite that...it looks like I am going to have a weight gain this week, not a weight loss, and it also looks like I am not losing any additional inches this week.
In the past, my old self would have said, "Screw this! I'm not flogging myself and depriving myself for no reason. If my body wants to stay fat, let it stay fat! I'm not working this hard for nothing. If it's a choice between lounging on my double-wide, snorkeling in Coca-Cola and weighing 204 pounds or busting my hump on the treadmill, counting every calorie and still weighing 204 pounds, then bring on the Coca-Cola! Bring it on!"
But my new self is watching the one number that does keep going down...my blood pressure. And my new self is focusing on the true reason I am on this program, which is to get fit and healthy. And fit and healthy does not always mean skinny. Apparently, at least in my case, it will NEVER mean skinny. But if I keep going as I am, I will be able to wean myself off my blood pressure medication and keep my pressure under control simply through regular cardiovascular exercise and healthy eating. Notice I didn't saying dieting, because I am not on a diet, I am on a journey.
Actually, I am on a mission. And you know what they say, there is no one more fervent than a recent convert. I am a recent convert who doesn't want to become a recent martyr.
And so...I walk.
Fat Cat
Now a plateau, at least in the world of dieters, is when your body basically says, "F@#$!!@!! you!" I've dropped all the pounds I care to drop. You want to lose any more? Get lipo! Get a lap band! Leave me alone. I prefer the ass just like it is now, got it?"
Yes, I know. It's appalling that my body would speak to me in such a manner. I myself was raised by a true Southern belle who had exquisite manners (Thank you, mama...). But since I am the only one who "raised" my body (grew it all by myself, with a little help from Blue Bell and Coca-Cola) it's not quite as well-mannered as I, or at least, as I pretend to be when people are looking.
Translated into plain English, this means my body has gotten used to the amount of exercise I am doing and the type and amount of food I am eating and in order to lose more, I am going to have to do more and eat less.
I HATE THIS! IT'S NOT FAIR!!!
I must take a few paragraphs to whine. Don't you think giving up guzzling Coca-Cola should count for something? By my estimate I got rid of 897 calories a day just by switching to water (3 12-ounce cans a day x 155 calories = 465 calories + one 32-ounce gut buster from any convenient drive-in a day at 432 calories = 897 empty liquid but simply divine calories a day.) Multiply that times the 28 days I have been on this program and it equals 25,116 calories. Divide that by 3,500, the number of calories you have to either burn or give up to lose one pound, and that equals 7.176 pounds. So, survey says, I should have lost 7.176 pounds from this sacrifice alone by now, but my body is saying, "Oh, hell no!"
That's not even taking into account the ice cream and chocolate I have given up, or the hot, buttery, crunchy cinnamon toast that I make so well but won't let myself make any more because I am trying to become healthy.
That's also not taking into account the fact that over the last month, by sheer dint of will, I have transformed myself from:
• a human sloth who got up and moved away from my computers (yes, there's more than one) only to eat, go to work and attend to the call of nature
into:
• a fantastic human exercise machine
Um, err, well...
into:
• a human sloth who grudgingly gets up on the treadmill every day so I can make an honest check mark in my 90 Day Fitness Walking Program journal.
So with all the calories I've burned walking this past month and all the calories I haven't taken in by giving up many of my favorite indulgences and NOT replacing them with any other indulgence, I think I should have lost 10 pounds or so by now. But once again, my body is saying, "Oh, hell no! We likes it fat! We likes it blubbery!" (I have no idea why my body is talking like Golem, but it's kind of creepy and scary...)
So this week, despite my faithfulness to the program and sticking mostly to my diet (what's one Chocolate Eruption amongst friends?) despite that...it looks like I am going to have a weight gain this week, not a weight loss, and it also looks like I am not losing any additional inches this week.
In the past, my old self would have said, "Screw this! I'm not flogging myself and depriving myself for no reason. If my body wants to stay fat, let it stay fat! I'm not working this hard for nothing. If it's a choice between lounging on my double-wide, snorkeling in Coca-Cola and weighing 204 pounds or busting my hump on the treadmill, counting every calorie and still weighing 204 pounds, then bring on the Coca-Cola! Bring it on!"
But my new self is watching the one number that does keep going down...my blood pressure. And my new self is focusing on the true reason I am on this program, which is to get fit and healthy. And fit and healthy does not always mean skinny. Apparently, at least in my case, it will NEVER mean skinny. But if I keep going as I am, I will be able to wean myself off my blood pressure medication and keep my pressure under control simply through regular cardiovascular exercise and healthy eating. Notice I didn't saying dieting, because I am not on a diet, I am on a journey.
Actually, I am on a mission. And you know what they say, there is no one more fervent than a recent convert. I am a recent convert who doesn't want to become a recent martyr.
And so...I walk.
Fat Cat
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