So...I guess I have a blog. I've read a multitude of blogs over the years. My wife has one. My friends have blogs. If my daughter's grandparents had their way, she'd have one, too, and she's only 16 months old. But I've never had one, nor particularly been tempted to have one.
So why now? Well, I guess it starts with a scale. Actually it starts with two scales. I have one of those nondescript scales that you can buy at Walmart. It hangs out in my bathroom (my wife and I have separate bathrooms) between the toilet and shower. Being a fat man (read the title of the blog, people), I have become very good at just ignoring it. It's a piece of the decor in my bathroom...like the toilet brush, which might be why my wife and I use separate bathrooms. The scale is just something that's there.
Recently, my wife and I decided to try and be healthier. As part of the new desire to be healthier, I decided to face my fear and see how much I actually weigh. So in a fit of courage (which I rarely have), I jumped on the scale to take a look at the damage. If a scale could scream, I'm sure it would have. Up and up it went, 100, 200, 250, 280, 290, 295, 296, 298, 299 and then...0, 5, 10, 15, slowly resting at around 20lbs or so. Basically I'm so fat the scale can't read the weight. It only goes up to 300 lb. I could guesstimate that I'm 320. But am I really? Maybe that was as far as the scale could go?
So out came scale #2. It's a cool high-tech Japanese scale that gives you an electronic readout of your weight and body fat percentage. It couldn't go wrong...but wrong it went. I'm pretty sure, as I stood on it, that I saw smoke come out the sides. This time the scale actually told me, in Japanese, that I was too fat for it to weigh me.
That's a downer. Now, I'm not too ashamed of myself, but I'm getting older..and unfortunately as the older I've gotten, the blubbier I've gotten (it's why I don't hang with Inuits - self-preservation). And I have a daughter, the cute kind I'd like to see grow up. So it's time to get off this fat ass of mine and try and do something about it.
Tomorrow I'm off to buy a scale. A real one. A manly one. The kind of scale that can bear my density and tell me what the horror is without whimpering about it.
This blog, in part, will be my attempt at documenting my journey towards being healthier. Once I figure out how to do it, I'll add some cool graphs or something to chart the de-fattification.
So why now? Well, I guess it starts with a scale. Actually it starts with two scales. I have one of those nondescript scales that you can buy at Walmart. It hangs out in my bathroom (my wife and I have separate bathrooms) between the toilet and shower. Being a fat man (read the title of the blog, people), I have become very good at just ignoring it. It's a piece of the decor in my bathroom...like the toilet brush, which might be why my wife and I use separate bathrooms. The scale is just something that's there.
Recently, my wife and I decided to try and be healthier. As part of the new desire to be healthier, I decided to face my fear and see how much I actually weigh. So in a fit of courage (which I rarely have), I jumped on the scale to take a look at the damage. If a scale could scream, I'm sure it would have. Up and up it went, 100, 200, 250, 280, 290, 295, 296, 298, 299 and then...0, 5, 10, 15, slowly resting at around 20lbs or so. Basically I'm so fat the scale can't read the weight. It only goes up to 300 lb. I could guesstimate that I'm 320. But am I really? Maybe that was as far as the scale could go?
So out came scale #2. It's a cool high-tech Japanese scale that gives you an electronic readout of your weight and body fat percentage. It couldn't go wrong...but wrong it went. I'm pretty sure, as I stood on it, that I saw smoke come out the sides. This time the scale actually told me, in Japanese, that I was too fat for it to weigh me.
That's a downer. Now, I'm not too ashamed of myself, but I'm getting older..and unfortunately as the older I've gotten, the blubbier I've gotten (it's why I don't hang with Inuits - self-preservation). And I have a daughter, the cute kind I'd like to see grow up. So it's time to get off this fat ass of mine and try and do something about it.
Tomorrow I'm off to buy a scale. A real one. A manly one. The kind of scale that can bear my density and tell me what the horror is without whimpering about it.
This blog, in part, will be my attempt at documenting my journey towards being healthier. Once I figure out how to do it, I'll add some cool graphs or something to chart the de-fattification.
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