Well, you never know what I’m going to do. Or, more alarmingly, I never know what I’m going to do. Case in point: yesterday, during my lunch break, I drove my fifty-nine year old, out-of-shape body to a local health club and purchased a twenty-eight day “guest” membership. I’ll bet you didn’t see that coming. I know I didn’t!
We’d probably need an army of psychiatrists to get an answer to “why”; but I’ll take a stab at the “why” question right here: You see, dear friends, I’m starting to get spooked over a chronically sore spot that’s hovering around the right part of my rib cage.
Sensible thing to do? Sensible thing is to make an appointment with my PCP and ask her what it is. What did I actually do? What I actually did was to try and repress the insistent thought that it wasn’t my rib cage that was hurting, but my lung. Along with the uncomfortable worry about an internal organ was the irrepressible thought that the reason my lung was hurting is that I’m regularly and constantly assigning it the job of filling up with tobacco smoke and nicotine and, well, it’s starting to let me know how much it hates doing that job for me.
Sensible thing to do? Sensible thing is for me to stop smoking cigarettes. What did I actually do? I decided that if I got into “good shape” (whatever that is) the pain would go away and I’d go back to living my happy life of completely undeserved good health. Not that I qualify as a ‘health nut’. I mean, anyone who’s major goal in life is to convince a sixty inch, eighty-nine pound ballerina to grow to five hundred pounds isn’t exactly the kind of guy who grounds all his decisions in good medical practice.
Just the same, friends, I wouldn’t want you to get the idea that Charon’s Aide is unwilling to stop smoking cigarettes in order to preserve his health. I’m TOTALLY willing — I just don’t think it’s prudent to do something as radical as to stop smoking until every other possible solution has been explored. I save my last resort for, well, last.
So, look at the corner I’ve put myself in. Just two weeks after promising to publish my weight and size measurements every seven days, I’ve decided to — of all things — work out at the gym. Oh crap! I’ve just joined about a million others who are clogging the inter-webs with that most annoying of all possible exhibitions of self-absorption — the ubiquitous I’m-finally-going-to-get-fit weight loss blog.
Thing is, though, I have no desire or intention to lose weight! Neither do I have the intention of gaining weight or maintaining my weight — I think that stuff is stupid. Really, I do! And yet, like it or not, I’m a feeder, and that means that even though I think it’s a waste of time (not to mention a grotesque self-indulgence) for me to watch my own weight, I’m utterly and completely obsessed with the craven desire to focus my attention upon the weight of as many young, beautiful, sexy women as I possibly can. I want to watch their weight go up, and up, and up.
… and up, and up!!!!
So, ladies, if you’re going to make the world happy and plump yourselves up, please do all us feeders (especially me) a great, big, fat favor and keep a careful, thorough and regular assessment of your ever-growing size — every aspect of your size. You realize, of course, that I’m only giving you my stats so you don’t think I’m asking you to do something I wouldn’t do myself. And, (I don’t understand why, but this seems to be necessary), provide an example of right and proper way to report your adventure in size enhancement.
What I mean is this:
|Date:||November 19, 2013|
|Plenty of Mocha Frappes (5 maybe)|
|Big Sombrero + 5 cookies, nightly|
<NOTE TO YOU COMPUTER WIZARDS — The chart, which looks like total crap, looked pretty good when I pasted it on my post draft. I copied it from an Excel sheet. How can I make it look like it’s supposed to?>
So, according to this, I’ve gained a pound, which suits me fine because now I can tell you that I’m neither maintaining my weight nor am I losing weight consistently nor am I gaining weight. I am, as they say, “all over the map”. And “all over the map” happens to be my favorite neighborhood.
So, let’s redirect our attention away from my stats and toward the ‘site stats. I am severely unhappy to report that page views here on Food is Love and Fat is Freedom for the week between November 12 and November 18 were down considerably. ‘Considerably’ as in 41 hits down from 85.
What were people reading:
|Way Out Weigh-In (new)||60%|
|Slim By Choice (new)||13%|
|Misunderstood and Maligned||13%|
|Too Fat Tuesday||7%|
Anyway, there’s no way to put a positive ‘spin’ on these numbers. Fat admires, both hither and yon, are staying away. Come on people! I want my bodily stats to be “all over” but I want ‘site stats (as well as the stats of all you gorgeous gainers) to go up.
I’m not going to pretend I’m not disappointed. After all, if I’m going to be encouraged when I notice an increase in traffic, it shouldn’t surprise you to discover that I’m going to be discouraged when there’s a decrease in traffic.
I’m disappointed, but I’ll soldier on. Let’s see how many posts I can make between now and next Tuesday.