I Can Tell In Your Face

I have lost some weight in the last six months, 15 lbs in just the past five weeks. I have dropped a pant size, and I feel better. I still have a long way to go, but the diet I am on isn't too hard and there is no reason to believe I will fail. I am craving pizza really bad these days though, some foods are hard to give up.

My girlfriend can tell where I have lost weight, but she has access to my body and a certain intimacy that others do not. I love it when she notices, it makes me smile. Still, it would be nice if others started noticing my weight loss. When I proudly announce that I have lost 30 lbs. since last Labor Day, I get the usual accolades and that is cool, but what I really want is an unsolicited comment. How about "wow Scott you are looking sveldt these days" or maybe "have you lost weight? You look fabulous".

Alas I get nothing of the sort, instead what I hear is "I can tell you have lost weight in your face". Thats great, I wasn't worried about my face, I am worried about my ass. Will you tell me when you can see that I have lost weight in my ass? "Egads, Scott, your ass is nearly gone! Good work!". It is the bane of every fat guy who ever went on a diet, I have been there many times actually. I lose weight in my face, so I have a 16 lbs. head instead of an 18 lbs. head. That is fabulous. Maybe my old hats will fit better. Here is an idea, I can now get a smaller fucking dew rag. Oh and what do you mean when you say you can tell in my face? Does that mean you never look at my ass? Good, just as well you keep it that way I suppose, but really, it would be nice to get some validation on the other body parts that are rapidly shrinking into much smaller sizes.

Today was the first day I added exercise to my diet, yes the fat man went to the gym. It was pretty fun, there were the usual cliques of weight lifters, getting all buff and built, I wonder how many are 'roiding after the workout. There were mostly working folk, people like me who sit on their previously fat asses (not that anyone notices) and stare at a computer screen all day. If it weren't for the 40 minutes at the Y, most office bound Americans would move less than a three toed sloth. I sat on a bike for 15 minutes, the read out said I had burnt 70 calories. Let's see, 70 calories is about the equivalent of a quarter of a slice of pepperoni pizza pie. The math makes my head spin, if I ever want to eat again I will have to spend all of my free time at the gym.

I spent some time on the elliptical machine, some weird contraption that is like a bike but you "pedal" with your arms, then I did some traditional weight training. See, I want a big upper body to counter act by big lower body.

Mostly, I can not help but compare the equipment in the gym to ancient torture devices. There are machines there that even look like The Rack. All of them are a form of torture too, because I have been home for all of two hours and I am already stiff and sore. I am sure the morning will feel even more like I have spent time on the Rack. All that is missing is the little bald rat faced man with a lisp asking me to renounce my religion.

Yet I will willingly go back to my torture chamber on Saturday, because my diet and the American Heart Association say I must. Someday I may be able to actually enjoy the fruits of my labors, perhaps even have buns of steel, and then by god, you had better notice.