69 posts tagged “life”
I reached another fat man milestone yesterday.
I went shopping, in attempts to piece together a look for a busy but fun-filled Saturday. There's the National Book Festival on the Mall, a family birthday party, tickets to Aziz Ansari at the 6th & I Synagogue and another party at the DC Eagle (aka the local leather bar). So I needed an all-day look that could go from the nerdiness on The National Mall to the solemnity of the synagogue (although I doubt it will be that solemn with Aziz, especially if he breaks out the Raaaaaaaandy Material) to the ribaldry promised at the Sash Trash Birthday Bash. New clothes time!
As usual, I had to go to KingSize online to find my pants. And that's not because I'm a recovering biggun' but because every other Big&Tall store seems to think they're only two types of folk waddling around this world. You either short and portly or long and narrow. If you're tall and wide like me, you're shit out of luck or rocking high waters if you want to buy off the rack. That's why I ended ordering a pair of twill marine jeans online. What possessed me to by the order the twill apple green jeans. No idea, but they're on their way! In addition to finding pants online , I thought I had found the perfect shirt suit every occasion on Saturday. Check it out! Bam!
Deprived of my Mystic Wolf T-Shirt, I decided to go and see what CasualMaleXL had going on in their brick and mortar down the street from the job. And what they had was a half-off rack! And what was on that rack in the 5x and 6x section?
- A madras button down. (That season has passed, Phill. But-- PUT IT BACK! Yessir.)
- A Triple-Double T-shirt. (What the what?)
- A gray Calvin polo! (Bingo!) But there was a problem. The hanger tag said 5X and the label inside the shirt said 4X. Fuck!
But I couldn't say no to the polo either! Hell, it was half-off. And if it were destined for the Hope Collection, so be it. So bought it, went back to work, dried off and tried it on. There was no clinging to the man boobs or accentuating the back fat. It gently hugged the developing muscles in my arm and let my tattoo peek out a bit.The only thing I had watch out for was wearing it with belt with a bulky buckle, but other than that. It fit!
Long and rambling story short: I've gone from a 6X (Borderline 7X. Tell the truth; Shame the Devil) to a 4X. Unfortunately, a couple years back I thinned out the Hope Collection when I figured there was no hope that I would be able to fit into certain clothes again. Now I find myself pining for a few of the items either threw away or gave away.
Like my chocolate brown Western Stretch Jeans. Which M was more enthusiastic about tossing out than me. Then there was my Baby Bear T-Shirt. Although with my graying beard and a heart attack under my belt, I may want look into the buy this Silver Bear T.
And since I shot my wad, when I decided to go out last night, put a little umph in my Hump Day and parade around in my new 4X polo. I had to invest in another shirt for Saturday and decided to go with this one.
I figure everybody loves pirates, right? And this will go great with apple green jeans.
While on Vacation last Tuesday, I made it to the 100-mile mark I was aiming for with the walking. I spent the better the better part of that morning contemplating where I could go to make that last three miles a grand three miles (Down to DC? The Mall? The Monuments? I've never been to Rock Creek Park during the daylight), but I ended up being a sentimental sap and beginning were it all started.
Where it started was heading north of my apartment complex parking lot, hoping to spot the neighbor with the 20-inch arms I had seen the day before but couldn't get a good look at without getting a smack to back of head from M for ogling. Then there was a left out of the complex, heading downhill and realizing that downhill would become uphill if turned back around. So I decided to loop it. No turning back. Didn't realize what a big ass loop it was until I was 'round by lake I passed a thousand times but never visited, letting my inner Southerner out and making sure to wave or nod at everyone I passed. However timidity and anxiety nearly got the better of me when I had to face a busy Montgomery Village Avenue and 355 in my walking shorts and Twinkie the Kid T-shirt (my scarlet letter.) A few encouraging car honks from friends that spotted me and a couple of strangers got me over that and helped me make it to a 100-miles later.
I was a little more doubtful about making the 100-pound mark by the end of vacation. Last Friday, I still had two pounds to go, in spite of walking and putting in a DVD workout to boot. So after another one of those DVD workouts on Sunday, I did another weigh-in, knowing with the way my ass sweats that that would put at 100-pound weight loss mark. And it did. But it felt like a victory with an asterisk. So I hopped one the scale this morning, belly still heavy from a steak dinner the night before and I was little over the 100 pounds lost line.
Now there's a new line. It's not the finish line, that's a long ways away. The new goal is another sixty pound to take me place I haven't been in awhile (and without the aid of recreational drugs), below the four hundred pound mar
One hundred pounds and one hundred miles.
Depending on the day and how much water I'm holding (damn you, Papa John's and your five dollar lunch special), I'm six pounds away from losing a hundred since God decided to chest check me and scare me into getting my ass in better shape. And a big part of getting in shape has been walking. I decided to take a break from mall walking and brave the great outdoors in my now over-sized gym shorts that sorta look like a skort now. I even did a little hiking this week at the state park right down the street. It's hard to believe that I've been living near the place for six years and I haven't visited until recently. So peaceful. So secluded. So secluded that I decided to practice sprinting from one trail marker to the next and pulled my shirt off to let my sweaty moobies breathe a bit. So liberating. Of course, somebody may have been hiding in the brush and I'm bound to find a grainy pic of me on the cover News of the World or some other tabloid with a headline declaring, "Big Foot Found In Maryland."
I got a new toy phone app a couple of weeks ago to keep me on task, Bones in Motion. It is a GPS program that helps me keep track of my pace (on average, I'm clocking about 3mph) and my mileage. As of today, I'm thirteen miles off from a hundred. I think I more eager about making that goal than I am about the poundage.
Reading
The narrator kind of reminds me of Joe Pitt from Huston's other books, just a little less hard-boiled but a bit of an ass just the same. Still it is an entertaining read and got to find out why he has an aversion to buses.
Listening to . . .
I discovered King Britt and Sister Gertrude Morgan through True Blood (whose music department is doing a heckuva of job this season.) This album is ambient dance music meets Sunday morning praise service. Even more entertaining are the unadorned version of these tunes of Sister Gertrude's Let's Make a Record, but this remixed version makes for good walking music.
Here's my favorite remixed track that I usually queue up when I got a hill trying to stare me down.
Seeing (and saw)
I saw LeAnn Rimes last week at the Wolf Trap. The weather wasn't as nightmarish and brutally humid as it was last year when I went there to see Donna Summer. It was a cool night full of cool music country-- and classical! She was performing with the National Symphony orchestra. I wasn't too excited about the pairing, but the tickets were free. However LeAnn and the NSO meshed pretty well and it was an entertaining night.She sounds just as good in person as she does on her recordings.
Saw Bruno. There a few laugh out loud moments, but it was a bit of a disappointment. On Da Ali G my favorite segments with Bruno were when he was taking the piss out of the fashion and entertainment industry. There some of that here but not enough. And I don't if exposing America's homophobia. It seems more like he's exposing people's (surprisingly high) threshold for dealing with bullshit. For example, I think I may have had a similar reaction that one hunter had when Bruno kept pestering him in the middle of the night and trying to get into his tent. It had little to do with the fact that Bruno's gay and more to do with the fact that he is an un relenting pest.
Both Bruno and Terminator: Salvation were disappointments. Here's hoping Harry Potter (seeing it tomorrow) doesn't disappoint.
Trying to Avoid
Flamin' Hot Funyuns! *drool* Damn you litterbugs! I wouldn't have known this existed, if someone gave a hoot and didn't pollute. I went walking around the lake and saw an empty bag of these along the path. Of course, I could've picked up the bag and searched for a trashcan, but didn't. I was too afraid that before I had the chance to find one. I would've ripped open the bag and licked out the crumbs.
I was in too good of a mood. And I don't think the little bastard could hear me anyway. I went to do my weigh-in this morning. I was a little concerned, considering M had fried up some chicken last week and I lived up to that stereotype 'bout black folks and chicken (something I'd be damned if I would do on camera). In spite of the fact, I got my exercise in six days last week. We won't even make mention on the fact that one of those exercise session, my four mile walk, was interrupted by a side trip to CVS for a bottle of water to stay and a Cadbury Fruit & Nut bar gobbled up well before I got home to the husband.
I figured that at the worst I'd be holding at what I weighed with my last weigh-in, but no. Self-sabotage be damned. I managed to knock seven more pounds and reach an important milestone. I'm officially out of the quarter-ton range. Still a fat ass, but out of the five hundreds. (Well, kind of a fat ass. As M was keen to point out, my flat ass has never been part of the problems. My fat aggregated everywhere else. Gut. Back. Thighs-- but not my chicken killer legs. And chest which I really didn't pay attention until I noticed with the weight loss my moobies getting smaller and smaller. Think I'm probably out of the Double D's and could go with a C cup now.)
So I'm feeling good, trying to talk myself out of celebratory breakfast at IHOP, and waiting for the elevator. Yeah, I should''ve took the steps from the second floor, but I had already hit them sons-of-bitches on the way up and I was on my way to the mall for a couple laps afterward. No need to over do it. Elevator opens. I ain't paying attention and it's on it way up to the third floor. The doors slide open. There are people waiting for me to get off so that they can get on, knowing good and well I hadn't just come down from the nonexistent fourth floor. I wave 'em in. They get on with a little boy in tow. About nine or eight. I can sort of tell that he's challenged in some way, just didn't know it was in the manners department. Stepped in front on me and gave me the tentative once-over. Then he looked at me again all wide-eyed, waved at his father and begin grunting. Poor little dude ,I thought.
As he stretched his arm over his head to indicate how tall I was, I gave him a smile that bordered on patronizing-- I'll admit it. So it kinda my serves me right that in addition to making note of my height, he also insisted on pointing on my width by holding his arms out. Once we're out of the elevator, he is at it again! Grunting and stretching outward, like there wasn't enough room in the elevator for him properly convey my immenseness. He needed to whole breadth of the lobby to properly define it. Like I said, I was in too good of mood to let it bother me much. And I figured he was honing his defensive skills. I'm sure he gets a lot of shit from people in his life and he's learned to cut first. Well played, you little bastard. Then again, maybe he meant no offense and I'm just having issues with that part of me that never had a problem staying thin. My skin. And there's some stuff I need to learn to take on the chinnegan. Begin again!
Regarding the workout, I'm trying to get two in a day. Walk the mall in the morning and break out the Biggest Loser DVD's after work. Of course that all changed on Monday when I took my first lap around the upper level, made my to Macy's and noticed my baby was gone.
I
Remember that kids' show "Today's Special" with Jodie, the store display designer, whose either coke crazed or so exhausted from working the late shift that she imagines the security guard she works with is made of felt and she befriends a rhyming rat and a gay mannequin with a magical hat? Toss a newsboy brim on that little fellow and I imagine he'd be just as magical as Jeffery!
Thursday
Hell, if I die at least I die happy.
That was part of my reasoning for heading the Zigfield's-Secrets before I got verification from cardiologist that my heart could withstand a little bit more of the blood traveling southward than usual. Another part of my reasoning for going down on Thursday is that I figured it would be far less crowded than a Friday or Saturday. I hate crowded clubs. Evidence of this is the near panic attack I had inauguration weekend when I went out with a good girlfriend to some place on U street. We were packed tight down in the basement which was about a big as a shoebox and the only way out was a narrow staircase. Not that I expected anything bad to happen, but if anything bad did happen trying to get out with only one exit was going to make it worse.
I didn't want to experience another episode. So I figured I'd go on a quiet night that was all the more quiet because there's no drag show on Thursday and Zigfield, the drag bar, was closed. But Secrets, the go-go bar, was open and there was plenty of space (three bars, a couple stages and a dance floor) and plenty of naked dudes of all varieties to insure if I did keel over down there, I would indeed go out a happy man. Well . . . there were several things that kinda bummed me out.
Riding into Southwest DC, I wish I would have Madonna's Something to Remember CD on me because I could've queued up "This Used to Be Playground." Now that they've put up the baseball stadium I barely recognize it anymore. All the old clubs (Nations, Traxxx, and Wet) I used hang at down there were already gone to make way for the stadium and office buildings, but the theater I worked for down there was gone too. I knew they were rebuilding, but driving into town this was the first time that I got to see the changes in person.
Me and old friend Jack Daniels may have to part ways, especially if he brings old friend Coke (name brand soft drink and/or that other powdery stu). The caffeine got my heart to racing a bit. So I had to switch over to Kettle One and Tonic. Not that I'm big fan of tonic or vodka, but I think the changes to Southwest put me in a sentimental mood. A good friend of mines in grad school loved him some Kettle One and Tonic.
Like I said, there was a lot of variety in terms of Dancers, a rainbow coalition. A lot different from Club Wet, where different ethnicities had their particular nights (e.g., Hot Chocolates Tuesday for the black folks, which I was a big fan of for a while. But it started to get a little crowded, see above about me and crowds. And then we started going reading through slave narratives in my literatures classes. And something clicked in flaky head connecting Beloved and the baby-oiled boys "blessed better than blessed" on the bar using their bodies to earn a buck. Something just seemed so unseemly about. But not unseemly enough to keep me away all together. So that's when I started going to White bread Wednesday and soon after started housing a dancer in my graduate school dorm. But I digress.).
In Secrets you had your Blacks, Latinos and Caucasians (unfortunately no Asians. I remember this tall Japanese guy name "Hiro", when I used to take liquid lunches at the old Secrets.) Seeing them dancing side by side on the bar almost made me believe that we were in a post-race America. Then I noticed there was a secluded staging area over in the corner, surrounded by about ten or so seats which were all taken to watch built-but-not-too-built, blonde, blue-eyed Aryan poster boy (or a military man with a side gig). Hell, I was almost tempted to venture over there myself, but I didn't want to lose my seat at the bar. Plus I figured the dancers rotated areas and he be around my way soon enough.
When Aryan poster boy left the stage a black guy followed him up. He pretty much lost all the audience that was drooling over his opening act. The manager took him off of the stage and told him to dance over at my bar, which had been dancer-free up until then. Seeing him up close, I had to reaccess why he had lost his audicence. He had his shortcomings and really wasn't all too personable I pity-tipped him and he didn't give me as much as booty waggle. Bastard just kept it moving. But the other dudes were pretty friendly (but not friendly friendly) and I enjoyed myself.
Friday
Cardiolgist visit, which I realized would be a tax write-off when the receptionist insisted that I keep my reciepts for three years. She was so adamant about it that I figured the IRS had throughly crawled up her behind. So I've started filing mines tossing my reciepts into an old shoebox.
First they weighed me. I lost ten pounds! Of course, if my fat ass was excercising that number would've been a lot higher. Now that spring has sprung, I gotta get on that. M tagged along with me. I'm glad he did, because the Doctor wanted me to recap my heart attack and I really didn't want to go through it again ("Sheesh, doc, how about reading my blog!"). So M went through the narrative of my four day heart attack with her and I filled in bits and pieces ("I saw Coraline that Sunday morning!")
The doctor told me that I was very fortunate that heart attack happened at the bottom of my heart (hence the post title. Yay, you for reading this far). Her main concerns were the weight and the smoking (duh). When she brought up the weight, I started to feel a little ambivalent about bringing M because he sees that as his in to bring up gastric bypass and maybe hurrying that along if my heart is okay. Of course, God forbid, if my heart isn't A-okay, where looking at another type of bypass. And, among other far more important concerns, I don't want to live with scars from sternum to stomach and look like a hollowed out baked potato. Must. Start. Excercising. Yesterday. Today!
So I got more more test and more follow-ups to look forward to and that's that for now.
Saturday
Movie day! I saw an early matinee of "I Love You, Man." I didn't love, but I liked it. My main gripe is the Andy Samberg's character. Samberg plays Paul Rudd's gay brother in the movie and he only goes after straight guys which sort of plays into that stereotypical notion that, to paraphase the cheeky Harvey Milk, "we're here to convert you!" and all gay chase after are straighties. There nice to look at and deposit into the spank bank here, but that's that. I ain't trying to turn nobody out.
Saw "Twilight." No, I didn't take my ass to any kind midnight release events for this one. I just tossed it in the Netflix queue and they shipped it out on Friday. Saw a little bit more of Robert Pattison's appeal, but I loved me big Emmett (Kellan Lutz) more. Jasper was just scary and I'm just chagrined at how much time I've allowed this book to take out of my life. I think I'll skip the rest of the film they bring the hilarious madness that is Breaking Dawn to the screen and Taylor Lautner is legal.
Couldn't wait patiently for inevitable price drop on Trivial Pursuit on the Wii. Bought that. M, a friend and I played that until about two in the morning. There were worthy competitors, but I won.
Sunday
Spring cleaning. M listened to his spirituals and washed clothes. I put on my headphones, listened to new Kelly Clarskon, hung a mountain of clothes and re-discovered our bedroom floor. My favorite song is "I Don''t Hookup." Least favorite? "Already Gone" 1. The even awesomer with the same name. 2.In my head, I always end mashing it up with Beyonce's "Halo." Thanks part to M playing it a million times after I downloaded her album for him.
Napped a bit to be fresh for all the Sunday shows I ahead of me that night. The Simpsons, Amazing Race (Damned Basketball made me had to sacrifice that one), Big Love, *cough*Desperate Housewives*cough*, Big Love, Breaking Bad, Brothers and Sisters, Flight of the Conchords, and yup, even Eastbound and Down.
Went to sleep at 2am.
