Nothing personal, but I’m done with Tumblr. Ok, maybe a little personal. I don’t care about other peoples pictures. Not that I don’t care about the few people I follow, or their pictures, but it’s all the re-blogged garbage from re-blogged garbage…that gets old and annoying. I have moved. I can now be found on theamazingshrinkingcomic.blogspot.com I might come on here to tell folks to fuck off, and in fact, this could very well turn into my rant blog. Know what, it is. As of right now, this is where I come to take my verbal shits. On faces. 

Peace<Dropping Drumsticks>

Ha, I didn’t even know it was a setting

So much for accountability. I haven’t posted on here in a couple weeks. This is my bad. No other reasons besides forgetfulness, laziness, and of course, wait for it, notgivingashitness. But here I am, and here is my report. I have as of last check lost 20 pounds. Which is awesome. Down to 340. Shameful to say down to 340, but at least I am saying down. I am having some problems with the results I am getting. Not that they aren’t good, but for some reason I want crazy losses every time I get on the scale. I understand that it is process, but that doesn’t change a fucking thing about what I want to see. I just have to come to grips with the fact that I am not on The Biggest Loser. I know I am not on The Biggest Loser because of the following proof: 
1. I don’t lose double digits every time I get on the scale. 
2. I have not, as of yet, cried into a camera every time I do, or someone else does something mean. Or good. Or bad. Or indifferent. Yet
3. I have not, nor will I, take my shirt off in front of Alison Sweeney.

I do have a new addiction. It used to be smoking from when I was 14 to when I was 30. I may have been drinking for a rough patch when I was 26. It has always been eating shitty foods, up until a few weeks ago. Now, drum roll, my new addiction is getting on the scale. I find myself standing on it at least twice a day. it doesn’t really bother me, except that I am doing it without even knowing why I am doing it. Annoying. And people tell me this is a bad idea. Which brings me to my next gripe.

Everyone has advice for me. I get it, you want to help, and I don’t want to be rude. However, I don’t need to hear the following things: 
1. You know what you should do…?
2. Know what works…? 
3. What I like doing…
4. My best advice to you is…
5. Don’t eat after 8…
6. You sure are fat
Ya know, I kinda like that last one.  

People hate fat people. Not all people, but a whole bunch of them. We fat folks know this. You may think you are putting on a face of fake happiness. Instead, I just want to smash your face. Yeah, I’m talking to you, tiny fuck with a beard at GNC when I was in there asking questions. I saw it written all over your face. Here is how the conversation went. 

Rick: Hey, how’s it going man. I was wondering if you guys carried Raspberry Ketone? I heard a lot about it. 

Fuckface: Yeah, it’s right here(Hands me bottle) It’s 30 bucks though, just so you know.

Rick: Oh, right on. It says this capsule has 100 MG per. The one at Feel-Rite has 300. Is there a difference?

Fuckface: Well, it was only tested on like lab rats, so I have no idea. Dr Oz said 100, so your call.

Rick: I’ll shop around more. Thanks for your help….
And Scene.

This is how it actually went down. Doesn’t seem too bad. If you are just reading it. However, with body language and eye contact, this is how it went down.

Rick: Hey, how’s it going man. I was wondering if you guys carried Raspberry Ketone? I heard a lot about it. 

Fuckface: Yuck. You nasty fat fuck. What are you doing in this store. We don’t sell cheeseburgers. I bet you saw this on Dr Oz, and now you think it will make all of your tits go away at once, without ever going into a gym. Typical fucking pig.

Rick: Oh you pretentious ******* (Insert any word that might offend you). I go to the gym, but I heard this stuff can boost your metabolism. And yeah, I may have heard it on Dr Oz, but fuck you.

Fuckface: Yeah, here it is fats. It’s 30 bucks though. Bet you can’t wait to pour your money out for this. Maybe if I make it seem way too expensive you’ll take your smelly fat self out of here now, and let me get back to listening to Wilco.

Rick: God Damn you and everything you stand for. I want to take you by the beard, and fuck your eye out. I want to take you to your parents house in the well landscaped suburbs, and beat the shit out of you in front of them. I’m better than you no matter how fat I ever am, because I’m not 34 years old working in RETAIL. You fucking failure of a human being. I bet you tell your friends you are a manager. It’s basically a fucking kiosk with tons of protein powder. Eat shit you 5’5 poor excuse of a douchbag. You look like the only thing you ever did well was run Cross Country in school. And we all know running Cross Country was just training to dance without a shirt in a gay bar. 

And Scene.  

This shit gets old. I want to go back to that place when I am thin. Act all Pretty Woman on him. “Big Mistake”. 
Fucker.  

347. This is wear I’m at. This means I have lost 13 pounds so far. I’m not trying to say anything with this. I want to be super happy. I can say I am pretty darn. I have been here before though. As self-defeatist as I am sounding, I am not. I am just trying to be as real as possible. Without being a braggart either. I don’t wanna be cliche, so I am not going to say that I am now starting my “Weight Loss Journey”. However, I do feel like I am maybe starting down that path. Yeah, that feels right. I just finally figured out how to get the latch up on the gate, and now I am starting down the path. Okay, enough with the cheesy self esteem ooze. On to the truth.

I hate the look of cheeseburgers. They call to me like sexy sirens. The drippy burger juice, the melty cheese. It’s horrible. Last night I wanted to fuck potato skins. This is truth. I wanted to eat them in front of kids that were starving, and then laugh. I wanted to eat fries. I was looking at the fries, and lusting. I was lusting over fries. I smelled chicken wings, and my mouth turned into a vicious whore. The point of this nonsense, is that I am an addict, living in a world of needles. I’m obsessed with eating garbage. I miss pizza. I’m Miss Pizza. However, I declined all of it. I had nothing. I fought the obsession. I didn’t eat anything bad. I’m the best. I have the most self control in the world. Nothing can stop me. I’m king of the world. 

The beer tasted amazing though. 

I didn’t know that all I was supposed to do is post pictures non stop all day. My bad

So, they say holidays are a perfect time to cheat. I don’t agree. But, who am I to argue. So, with the thoughts and plans of just being a big fat cheater all day, I started the morning with a big breakfast. Not just a big breakfast, but a BIG breakfast. A breakfast that would have made Jesus himself crawl back in the cave, roll the stone back, and get a few more minutes of sleep. Unfortunately, this is where my day of cheating ended. Apparently my once noble and mighty stomach had shrunk, and this breakfast was the last thing I would eat until a late 7:00 dinner at my parents house. And that dinner itself was small. At last count, I was actually under my calorie limit when I went to bed. Ok body, you are obviously now a willing participant in the diet. Welcome aboard. 

On a side note, I finally bought a scale that works. I will now be going by this scale’s weight at all times. Which, unfortunately means that the weight of the (broken) gym scale is no longer valid. The weight now stands at 353. I’ve made my piece with it.  Nowhere to go but down. And yes, that is in fact, what she said. 

I attempted to weigh myself in at the gym, but the scale was broken. Awesome. So I went to the store, and bought one myself. Nice one too. Digital. I took it home, hopped on, and it said I weighed 176 lbs. NICE! I have lost almost 200 lbs in almost a week! Then it occured to me that the scale might be broken. So, I called to my 9 yr old daughter to come in and stand on it. Turns out she is quite the fatty, because she also weighed in at an impressive 176lbs. This scale is also broken. It’s a sign that I shouldn’t be worrying about the lbs as much as I should worry about the lifestyle change.

So far this week I think I am doing really good mostly. I have gone to the gym 5 times in the last 2 and a half years. That sounds shitty when you look at it like that. Those 5 times have all been this week, which makes me feel a whole lot better. I got up at 5 am to go there all week. But, if I am going to talk myself up for going to the gym, I will also be honest about the downfalls. If you could call them that. In all honesty, I did go out and have some beers a few nights ago. Not even enough to get drunk. Which, in retrospect, seems like a waste. If in the future I am going to waste time and caloric intake on drinking PBR at the Mohawk Place, I at least am going to have enough to make it a worthy expeditioin.

My diet has geen pretty spot on. I have not eaten at all after dinners, stayed away from fast food, snacked on veggies or low cal things, and all the important things I learned. I can almost convince myself that I don’t miss cheeseburgers. But I do. With every bite of the turkey sandwich on 12 grain bread. That is just how it is. I’m a Delicious-aholic. 

Thanks a bunch! I really appreciate that

I’d imagine I’d be fresh out of lotion. But in truth, I just needed a self deprecating title. Thanks for the motivation though!