All Up in The Marc

A few months ago, Crystal and I came home from a jaunty time at Trinity Hall around 12:30 AM on a Saturday morning. As we started inside, a red-faced, grey haired fortysomething man from two houses down the street stomped and huffed and puffed into my face, “Do you realize how loud your dogs are? They’ve been barking all night!” 

From what I remember I just stared at him, with my inner rage pot starting a firm boil, and said, “Okay. Sorry about that.”

“Well we can’t get any sleep and you’re disturbing the entire neighborhood!” exclaimed he, with all manner of gusto and wavy, flappy hands. 

“Alright. Again, sorry about that,” replied I, and then promptly turned around and walked into the house and slammed cabinet doors and whatnot while I think Crystal tried to placate him. 

The truth is, and was, that I was a tad embarrassed. Yes, it’s annoying when your neighbor’s dog goes off like a fire alarm at night and mine own pup was the villain, so I understand his anger; I get that. But, I’d like to think that I’d behave with a bit more decorum and be civil for the first exchange. Past that I might huffle puff and blow some houses down and slap them with my glove and perhaps bite a thumb or two at them.

Thirty minutes or so later after we’d brought the dogs in, we had long moments of guffawing pleasure as the dog behind Huffy Puffy Man’s house (a constant villain) started up and went at it for about two hours straight. We sat on the porch and rubbed our hands together and said, “Yess…Excelleeennt.” For two hours.

But, what chaps my ample ass is our neighborhood setup. Crystal’s house is in an older neighborhood with all chain link fences and almost every house has a dog or two. While my dog Cuinn has a shrill bark typical of terriers, he is hardly the only barker in the ‘hood; we’ve all been annoyed barkees at one point or another but we put up with it because how the canine life goes. Because of the fences, the dogs can see each other and all manner of passers-by and, as dogs are wont to do, they bark at each other, disturbances, trucks, cats, cars and most especially mail persons. 

How can you resist this face? The answer: you can’t.

After that night we changed our pet policy. If we’re to be away at night past dark, we put them in the kitchen for a few hours and close the dog door. They get 15 minutes to relieve themselves before we go to bed, and then back in lockup. But once we’ve risen and shone, it’s ollee ollee oxen free in and out of the house so they can make it through these Dante’s Circle Texas summers. We can’t control them during the day, but it’s been a policy that’s worked for some months now.

However, last night we got a pet noise complaint from the city, filed by someone in our ‘hood. Who, you may ask? Well truthfully I don’t know, but even an uneducated person could make an educated guess on this one. 

After reading the letter, mah rage pot started a-boilin’ again and came thisclose to walking by self over to Huffy Puff’s house and give him a piece of my mind and possibly bark in his face, as any rational human would. The letter essentially said that if we got a second complaint we could be fined. I hopped on the Interwebs and read up on Chapter 7 of the Dallas City Compliance Code and I read from Section 7-4.3:

 (a)     If, within any 12-month period, a person commits two or more violations of this chapter involving a dog or cat, the director may revoke the existing registrations on all dogs and cats owned by that person and deny all applications for registration of any dog or cat by that person.

  (c)     Within 15 calendar days after receipt of a notice of revocation or denial of registration, or after a final decision of the permit and license appeal board if an appeal is filed, the owner shall remove and relocate all dogs and cats from his premises or surrender and forfeit ownership of them to the director. 

After reading all of this legal hoo-ha, I was in full on Hulk mode; I’d even pre-ripped my purple jeans just for easy transformation. Nobody is going to take my dogs for barking!

Luckily for Huffy Puffy though, I had Horror Remix: Beasts to alleviate my anger which was, funnily enough, comprised of clips from dog and cat-themed horror movies.

Today my Bruce Banner took over and I called City of Dallas Animal Services. I explained the situation above and was reasurred that Huffle Puff can file as many complaints as he likes. Animal Services will send out an officer to monitor and the dog must bark for 15 minutes straight unreasonably. If said canine stops for 15 seconds during that time period, then no muss no fuss. The two ladies I talked to even said it sounds like you’re doing everything right, as long as they’re sleeping indoors at night.

I’m more reassured now, but I’m still wearing my Hulk pants, though I’m more of a Grey Hulk/Mr. Fixit shade right now, rather than the brash, “Hulk Smash!” Green Hulk. It’s hard to be fully rational when something hits so close to my den. After some sorrowful experiences with dogs in my youth that were out of my hands, I pride myself on how well I take care of my current dogs.

As much as I’d like to egg his house or gather up all of the dog excrement in our yard and set it on fire with an M80 on his front step, I’m not going to attempt any retribution on Huffy Puff. I’m just going to wallow like Orson the Pig in the knowledge that Huffy Puff is an ill-tempered douchebag. But I may still bark in his face. And wear my Hulk Pants, because ripped purple pants are the new ripped purple pants.

Below is a clip from FAMILY GUY from Season 9 - “There’s a New Kidney in Town.” It’s the one joke that I remember consistently from the season because it cracked me up so much.

It is a great truth in my life that I, since the age of 10, always have, and likely will always, battle my fat. I’ve lost a good deal, then gained a person and then lost a person. It’s the world’s most frustrating roller coaster, but without the promise of safe harbor and the assurance that some unkempt, ancient bolts won’t go flying off to the nethers, taking your coaster car with it as the track falls apart.

As of somewhere around January 20, 2011 I’d lost somewhere around 15 pounds on 4-Hour Body. It was a frustrating battle for me, but something I thought I was doing well on, though I was most assuredly not enjoying the great success of some others.

That date sticks in my mind though, because it was the day I met a girl named Crystal and it changed my life. In the five months and nine days that have passed since, I’ve managed to put back on fifteen pounds of happy fat with a further five just to prove we’re smiling.

For the last month or two we’ve been doing Four Hour Body and really it’s been kinda maddening that we’re losing nothing. To be fair we’ve had a lot of wine in that time, but even Tim Ferriss said that would be alright. Okay, to be fair there was a lot of beer in there, too. But still, there’s been nary a glimpse of progress. 

For whatever spiritual, ephemeral, and nebulous reason we have a goal to lose 20 pounds each by September 3, when we leave for a trip to France. Initially that number was 30, but well the last two months of 4HB have reduced that for certain.

So, where does that leave me, and us? Well, we’re kicking out most of the slow carb lifestyle and ushering back in the low carb lifestyle. I hate to go back to it, but right now I figure it’s my only way of losing weight for sure. Perhaps my body doesn’t respond as well to slow carb and hopefully it will just be a temporary fix. 

For food, we’re cutting out the lentils and beans of the slow carb life and purely going back to leafy greens and good, non-starchy vegetables, eggs, turkey, and the like. This won’t be that big of a change for us as we were mostly eating this way anyways. We’re also keeping the 30 grams of protein within the 30 minutes, with an extra kick of fiber on top.

Further, we’re cutting out the alcohol…mostly. While maybe we sound a bit like Friends of Bill, the fact of the matter is that as irresponsible adults we’re going to imbibe. Monday through Thursday the alcohol will be in absentia. Friday and Sunday will be Jameson Irish Whiskey days, because it is no-carb, and Saturday will be our wine and beer cheat days. Yes, we’re leaving in the cheat day, for now. If it completely negates progress then we’ll likely have to axe that as well. Overall I call that progress, because before Sunday through Saturday were wine and beer days.

Most of all though, I’m keeping Tim’s sense of experimentation, because everyone’s body responds differently.

For exercise, Crystal’s going back to bellydancing and I’m going back to krav maga, as witnessed by my knife defense-incurred bloody eye above. Further, we’re doing other things like Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred and planning to boot scoot our asses off on Dance Central like someone’s going to shut down dancing and rock music in our town.

And to further put visual cherries on top of fat made of ice cream, to stay motivated we’re watching Biggest Loser and Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition (they finally got another edition!). You’d think being fat would enough motivation but sometimes life gives you an upper decker.

Whether you care or not, my plan is to start blawging about it again because it helps to keep me accountable. The best part of this experience though, is that I now have a partner to flee the fat farm with, with three dogs, two birds and a one-eyed gato in tow.

Last week I predicted I wouldn’t see any weight loss and there would possibly be weeping and gnashing of teeth. I couldn’t have been more wrong; I not only didn’t lose weight - I gained four point four pounds. Le’sigh. Hand me a self-flagellation device, please. 

Again, I know I shouldn’t pay that close attention to weight numbers. Just as women shouldn’t weigh themselves ten days prior to menstruation, maybe I’m within ten days of manstruation and I’m retaining water before I unleash hell upon the world by getting drunk, playing My Little Pony video games on XBox Live and yelling at little girls on chat about how my pony Betty Bloodspray would wipe the stable with their stupid fillies any day. EAT IT, TINY HUMANS! 

Fortunately for me and my ownself, I did at least lose an inch and a half around my pony keg, so I’ll not immediately go drown myself in pink vodka and butter. Yet.

Statistics for Day 42

Weight: 254.4 lbs (+4.4 lbs this week, -11.80 total) 
Percentages: +4.40% gained this week, -4.50% total
Arm: 14.5” (-0.0”)
Chest: 46.5” (-0.0”)
Hips: 46.0” (-0.0”)
Thigh: 24.0” (-0.00”)
Abdomen: 46.0” (-1.50”)

Addendum: 

In my ever evolving experimental process, I changed something else this week. I haven’t totally abandoned black beans as my regular legume portion yet, but because of one question during this seminar with Tim Ferris (Q&A starting at 18:00), I decided to switch to lentils on Sunday because he said something along the lines of, “There’s some fat-burning magic in lentils.” Lentils are magically bland and add a pasty texture to any food, but they seem to have a better effect on me than black beans ever did digestivally.

Although I should be pounding a glass of mead in front of a hearth with knightly brothers when I say it, I dare defy such custom here when I say that there’s only one appropriate word for this week’s weigh-in: “Huzzah!”

I know that my body can fluctuate easily, so I know I shouldn’t place much stock in scale numbers. But, it is a spirit lift when you see a sizeable number such as this week’s: 7.8 pounds, bringing me to a total of 16.20 pounds lost. 

The first half of the week I spent in Washington, D.C. Given how rushed meals were, I didn’t eat as much food as I normally do because it takes me forever to eat, so I think that may have contributed; that just leads me to believe that maybe I’m eating too much as is. But I managed to stay on track whilst out of town the entire time, so I’m severely happy about that. 

Given such a large number lost this week (plus inhaling more food), I wouldn’t be surprised to see little to no change next week, knowing my body. As long as I don’t gain weight, I’m okay with that. 

Yeah right. I’m hoping I’ve crossed and won’t be looking back, but if there’s weeping and gnashing of teeth next week, don’t be surprised.

Statistics for Day 35

Weight: 246.0 lbs (-7.8 lbs this week, -16.20 total) 
Percentages: -3.07% lost this week, -6.18% total
Arm: 14.5” (-0.0”)
Chest: 46.5” (-0.5”)
Hips: 46.0” (-0.0”)
Thigh: 24.0” (-2.04”)
Abdomen: 47.5” (-1.04”)

I’m sitting in a conference room in sleety Washington, D.C. during a break between sessions, overlooking the Naval Observatory (where bombastic Biden lives) and reflecting on the first half of the toughest week I’ve faced so far: the previously mentioned travel week. 

After the frustration vomited all over your faces in that last blog, I decided Tuesday to start working out again, using the prescribed methods of kettlebells and standard push-ups, twice a week. So, every Monday and Friday I’ll be doing that and seeing how my body responds. After doing 75 two-arm swings on a 35-pound kettlebell, 30 one arm swings (on each arm), and 10 solid, quality push-ups, my body responded Wednesday with pain that no painkiller short of illegal amounts of Vicodin could touch. On Thursday, my body sang Cee-Lo’s, “Fuck You” to my legs and I was walking like I’d been riding a Clydesdale for 3 weeks.

By Friday morning I was back to normal, worked out again and headed to Kansas City for Winterstorm, a drumming workshop, and to face the challenges therein of staying on a diet while traveling. I did well for the most part, though I definitely found myself eating less than I would at home because of a compressed schedule and it was hard to find legumes of any kind wherever we went. And when I drank adult beverages on Friday (and I did it in ample quantities), I stuck to Jameson Irish Whiskey instead of beer. Saturday was a binge day, thankfully, and I ate as bad as I was able and drank about eight Newcastles. Sunday I returned to the plan and got on home. 

Luckily I was home for 12 hours and was able to weigh-in on my own scale and workout again. Surprisingly, I weighed in at 253.8 pounds, down 2.80 pounds from my previous week. As crazy as it sounds, I’m not putting much stock in this week’s weigh-in because I woke up dehydrated two days in a row and I can’t say how much that affected the outcome.

Oddly enough I also gained half an inch on my biceps and my hips. I can’t decide if this is just an inaccurate measurement, something weird, or a side effect of working out. Maybe I’m a muscle dummy, but it’s hard to chalk up half an inch of growth in one week to working out two times. If it is, then I’m quickly going to develop an ass you could set plates on. 

The other thing to note is that on Friday I switched from whey protein isolate to egg white protein. The reason is that after trying to figure out what to change, I asked a question on a Tim Ferris chat on Facebook and someone messaged me to let me know that whey is a byproduct of dairy, which is a dietary no-no and could affect things. So, I changed to egg white protein and that might have influenced things as well. 

Feral Boy on the 4HB Forum also posted this interesting nugget: 

The exaggerated insulin response to dairy is probably a result of the amino acid profile of the whey component, NOT the lactose that may be present. (The culprits seem to be the BCAAs that are particularly rich in whey, because a similar effect is seen from ingesting the BCAAs alone.) 

One last factor: I added cissus quadrangularis to my supplement stack. This is controversial and may not have an effect, but one more thing I wanted to try.

All in all it was an unstable week and the instability continues here in DC. I’m just gonna keep on trucking, good buddy. 

Statistics for Day 28

Weight: 253.8 lbs (-2.8 lbs this week, -8.40 total) 
Percentages: -1.09% lost this week, -2.14% total
Arm: 14.5” (+3.57”)
Chest: 47” (-0.0”)
Hips: 46.0” (+0.5”)
Thigh: 24.5” (0.0”)
Abdomen: 48.0” (-1.03”)

I suppose there’s some irony in the fact that, a few days after I wrote a piece on my lifelong struggle with weight loss, that the following weigh-in would see me gain weight.

Frustrating irony.

There’s little of significance to report this week other than that I gained 0.6 pounds, leaving me at 256.6 this morning. I could see a gain headed my way Friday morning, when I weighed in at 250.8, or half a pound higher than Friday of the previous week. Luckily some loss in measurements are propping my attitude up a bit today. Reflecting on the week, there’s not one thing I can point to that would name itself culprit, so I’m going to chalk it up to a customary plateau and something I just have to ride out. 

While I thought New Year’s was tough, it turns out this week could be even tougher. Friday I’m headed out of town to Missouri for a pipe band workshop, returning Sunday afternoon, and then Monday morning I’m flying out to Washington, D.C. for a business trip and returning Wednesday. Needless to say, when you’re thrown off your schedule and access to your own foods, it’s a challenge, albeit more mental than physical probably. 

Here’s hoping I don’t get mentally desperate and inhale two-dozen Krispy Kreme airport doughnuts while waiting to depart DFW Friday morning.

Statistics for Day 21

Weight: 256.6 lbs (+.6 lbs this week, -5.60 total) 
Percentages: +0.23% gained this week, -2.14% total
Arm: 14” (-0.0”)
Chest: 47” (-0.0”)
Hips: 45.5” (-0.5”)
Thigh: 24.5” (-1.0”)
Abdomen: 48.5” (-0.05”)

A picture is worth 456 pounds.

That’s the reason I still fight.

Why I continue to persist in what sometimes seems a Sisyphusian battle.

[Matt Hoover] invited his friends to join them for a dinner at an Italian restaurant. There was just one problem. “I couldn’t fit into the chair they had there,” Hoover said. “It was really embarrassing — just a horrible scene. They had chairs with arms. You had to be a certain width.” He couldn’t stay for dinner. There was no place to sit. “I told them to have fun, that I would go out and meet up with them later. I went to a coffee shop.” There, he sipped coffee “feeling miserable and sorry for myself.”

- “How one man’s shame sparked a 300-pound weight loss” - CNN

Eight and a half years ago I found myself in a similar seat, literally, as Matt Hoover. It was sometime around the summer of 2002 and, although I had graduated college magna cum laude the year before, the last two years had been rough, as I’d lost my first tech job, and had been dealing with some tough family issues. I was someone who internalized my anger and took everything out on myself and finding comfort only in food; the weight was piling on.

I can’t say how fast I shoveled obesity into my mouth, but in early 2000, I was at my all time low of 253 pounds, a barrier I was never able to crack. By December 4, 2002 (pictured above), I topped out at 456 pounds and did a mean Jabba the Hutt impression to make my friends laugh while eating whole large pizzas and drinking 2-liters of Coca-Cola at a time (I multitask well).

But back in the summer of 2002, I found myself at Six Flags with some friends. I hadn’t ridden The Batman rollercoaster and was really looking forward to it. I stood in line for 45 minutes or so and finally reached the front of the line, and the front row of the ‘coaster. When it came time to board, I couldn’t fit. 

In front of everyone’s wide-eyed stares, the employees tried to help by attempting to compress my Volkswagon Beetle shape into something more Mini that would allow seat belts to keep me from flying off to my doom without Superman to catch me. With my emotions about to vomit everywhere, I decided I’d have none of it, issued a polite no thanks, muttered to my friends that I’d find them later, and pushed my way out of the boarding area and away from the rollercoaster as quick as I could carry myself.

That was my breaking point.

After that, I gave up on ever hoping to diet my way out of the mess I’d gotten myself into, but I also knew that I didn’t want to die young; I plan to live forever.

While no one knew of my breaking point, only a few people know that, after seeing Al Roker’s success, I turned to gastric bypass. On December 5, 2002, I went under the knife. And while I’m glad to this day that I did it, because of my real-boy-someday ego I’m still not proud that I did it.

Within two or three months after surgery, I’d lost around 100 pounds and the weight kept coming off. Sometime in 2005 I reached my now-low threshold of 234 pounds and I swore I’d never be The Fat Guy again. While I’ll never be able to eat as I used to, some old habits die hard and I’ve yo-yoed with my weight since, going through various fitness kicks while my friends’ probably eyes rolled back further in their heads with each successive attempt. In the last year, I just became lazy, ending up at 262 pounds two weeks ago. 

This time, there was no emotional punch in the face. But, there were, and are, a plethora of photos of me taken from 2008-2010 that make me angry at myself and recall the horrors of the above photo. 

In November 2010, I was fed up, but I refused to give up and was unsure of which health direction to go, as I’ve tried everything from low-carb to cabbage soup diet to P90X. I’ve been craving something with new and (at least seemingly) fresh science. I want balance. And that’s why I’m doing 4-Hour Body. 

It may take with me and it may not, but I’m not expecting to be a 4-Hour Body commercialized success story, an Adonis, or the Jared Fogle of Chipotle. I just want to be happy with me again. **

And that’s why I still fight.

** blah blah insert philosophical debate on internal vs. external-derived happiness. Later. Maybe.

The last diet I really gave a go at was Atkins, circa 1999. I lost 56 pounds, but over the years I got lazy and yo-yoed. I haven’t really taken anything serious since Atkins and for a good while didn’t have to, reaching a low weight of 236 sometime in 2006. But now I’m here, doing this, at the weight I’m at, and just faced down Week Two.

As I mentioned last week, the first week is easy; it’s the second that’s a real challenge, both mentally and physically. Typically your body is adjusting and you may not see the same success as the first week. Plus, in my experience, resolve weakens and it feels okay to cheat a bit, which can be a dangerous pattern. And I did.

Week One was Christmas, which was a challenge I passed. Week Two was a whole new ballgame, because I came close to being emotionally whipped. In the book The 4-Hour Body, Tim Ferriss says to expect your body to take some time to snap back after binge, but there’s nothing like actually experiencing it firsthand. While I did start seeing my body respond around Wednesday (I weigh myself every morning), the previous three days were miserable, with zero point zero pounds lost. By Wednesday night, I could feel that creeping fear that every person would: this damn thing isn’t going to work for me. That’s a bad sign for me because I’m an emotional eater and I know it.

Thursday I saw a good drop, but to complicate matters further, it was my buddy’s birthday party and they were supplying all the food at a dim sum joint, little of which was on-plan. I ate some of everything, aside from cookies and cupcakes, and just forced myself to slow my intake and be more aware; I felt accomplished in the end.

Friday, however, was complicated, as it was New Year’s and Saturday was my planned binge day. For what are now-knowingly gluttonous reasons, I didn’t want to move it to Friday. So for most of Friday I stuck with it, but then came the party and I strayed. I didn’t go whole hog, but I had beer, a few whiskeys, more beers, and bread among other things.

Saturday, Binge Day #2, I didn’t go quite so over the top for as I did in Week One because of New Year’s and because of the sweet-induced nausea on my 5500-calorie Binge Day #1. Because of the imprecise amounts I ate I don’t have a solid number, but I’m guesstimating I ate somewhere around 3000 calories.

Sunday I hopped right back on the train, although I missed both a meal and midday supplement stack because I got distracted processing photographs and didn’t really notice.

Week Two didn’t let me down in its expected ferocity, and I consider myself successful given the trials and tribulations. I’d hope that if I can face this week, I can face the other 51 weeks of the year.

Statistics for Day 14

Weight: 256.0 lbs (-3.0 lbs this week, -6.20 total)
Percentages: -1.16% lost this week, -2.36% total
Arm: 14” (-0.0”)
Chest: 47” (-.75”)
Hips: 46” (-0.5”)
Thigh: 25.5” (-0.0”)
Abdomen: 49” (-0.05”)

Addendum

This week I started tracking pre-Binge Day weight, as well as post, so that I can predict more accurately in the future. This week I was 250.2 pounds pre-Binge and 255.6 after, giving me a 2.16% (5.4 pounds) swing in 24 hours. That number isn’t too far off of Week One, when I gained 2.29% (5.8 pounds). 

Plus, I gained 0.4 pounds on the Sunday post-binge, which falls in line with Week One’s 0.5 pound gain. As I mentioned in another post, I attribute such large swings to the fact that fat cells are hardy buggers and will inflate and deflate instead of being destroyed; I’ve never had liposuction so I’m guessing I’m still carrying a disproportionate number of fat cells to my weight.