The First Weigh-In: Fight Club Evangelism

Two weeks ago I made the decision to get my crap together and get back in shape. About two hours after that I grabbed a large bowl of ice cream and ate it in about 30 seconds. It was yummy. I felt like a loser.

Then my Dad called and proceeded to tell me a story about how he ran a couple of miles in the woods with a neighbor and how he “never thought he would enjoy it, but just loved being out there in the fresh air and exercising.”

I am about to turn 27 years old. My Dad is approaching something like 136 years old (give or take a few years). I finally came to the point where I asked myself, “Shouldn’t I be the one telling HIM these stories?”

A lot can happen in two weeks. If you don’t believe me, ask anyone who has had a child. I’ve established a workout schedule. I am consistently eating healthier foods and smaller portions. I drink a ridiculous amount of water. I have a blog. And I have been blown away by all the support I have received from all you readers. Two weeks ago I felt like a loser.

And two weeks ago I weighed 278 lbs. Today, I weigh 262 lbs.

I’m not saying that it’s all about numbers. That’s icing on the cake compared to the way I feel. I’m more energetic. I’m happier. My Kung Fu skills are coming back to me. I even successfully lifted a car with my pinky finger this morning (Okay, okay, I used my ring finger, too). And you can feel this way. In fact, I dare you to feel this way. WARNING: The Fatty Fighter takes no responsibility for sudden spurts of happiness that may result in the following:

• Smiling
• Laughing
• Skipping
• Eloping to Vegas
• Other forms of jubilation

So here’s the challenge: You have two weeks to send me your best picture of you getting your workout on. Just post it in the comments section, or post a link, or email it to me (andrew.raynor.jones@gmail.com). At the end of the two weeks, your pictures will become part of The Fatty Fighter’s very own Fight Club. Think of it as an elite club that is dedicated to attacking fat. And the first rule of Fight Club is to tell as many people about Fight Club as you possibly can. It’s time to do a little weight-loss evangelism!

FIGHT THE FAT OFF! BE A PART OF IT!

Kill the Dog That Ate Your Homework

For all you animal lovers out there, this may be hard to hear. But I just exterminated the dog that ate my homework with extreme prejudice. I'm not kidding. He totally rolled all up on me all gangsta-like and I capped him.

Excuses are probably the number one reason why I never decided to take the plunge and get back in shape. "I'm not even in good enough shape to start." "What if I get laughed at in the gym?" "Do these Adidas shorts make my butt look big?" "I'll just 'watch what I eat' and I'm sure it'll be fine." There are a million reasons NOT to go work out. And then there are two million reasons NOT to continue working out after you start. I can't even tell you how sore I am at the moment. And sure, I could go all nerdy on you and tell you that the lactic acid build up is completely normal and that working out will help break some of that up and so I should go to the gym. But really, I just want to crawl up in the fetal position, get a bowl of ice cream, and watch a sad movie (like Old Yeller. Get it? Killing dogs...inappropriate, I'm sorry.)

Whereas there are a billion reasons not to work out, there's really only one reason you and I SHOULD go work out. If you don't, then you're still just a Fatty. And being a Fatty sucks. And the straw that broke the camel's back (how dumb of a phrase is that?), the thing that made me start this journey, the fact that I want to be around and not A ROUND for my son and daughter's weddings, or want to beat the snot out of Dad at the bridge run, or just want to be healthy and make that lifestyle change my body has been screaming for...all those reasons are so much better than that stupid dog that gobbled up your history paper.

So, let's get it out in the open. Start posting all the excuses you've ever made in the comments section. Air it out on my blog. And before I post again, I'm printing out all the excuses you guys have written down, putting them in a metal trash can, and doing a fire dance in my underwear in the backyard (don't judge me), burning them for you, so that you and I can never use those dumb excuses again.

From the Fatty

My name is Andrew Jones and I am a Fatty. “Oh, Andrew, don’t be so hard on yourself!”, you might say. Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? I’ve been hard on myself by becoming a Fatty. BUT ALL THAT IS CHANGING. Yesterday marked Day One of my weight loss journey. Sure, I’ve “dieted” before or ate more “healthy” foods, but in the end, it wasn’t a lifestyle change. It wasn’t permanent. It was a Band-Aid over a shot to the jugular.

It wasn’t always this way. You see, my parents used to be Fatties, too. And yes, they will read this. And no, I don’t think they will be mad at me saying this. We’ll see at Christmas-time. Anyway, I was always the athlete in the family. I played every sport imaginable while they sat in the stands. I even went to a military school and remained somewhat fit though college (although I started tailing off toward the last two years). I was, to borrow a friend’s words, a “lean, mean, efficient killing machine” and they were “mouth-breathing land monsters.”

And then something very strange happened. Both of my parents made the decision to get fit and DID IT. In less than a year my parents dropped weight like it was their job. And not just pounds via exercising, they started eating differently. I specifically remember spending Thanksgiving with them, looking in their fridge and wondering “Who ARE you people?” There was nothing but Greek yogurt and vegetables and…well, healthy food. I am estimating that my Dad probably has lost about 80lbs. and my Mom about that much as well (though, being the old farts that they are, they probably won’t ever tell me).

And then I was left as the Fatty in the family. Bummer. HUGE bummer. You see, I have two beautiful kids and a smokin’ hot wife. So being a fatty with such a beautiful family makes you feel like the ugly guy they just keep in the house for charity, even though I know that’s not really the case. At least, I don’t think it is. Probably should double check on that later. I digress. Actually, the bummer of it all is that I have never really had the energy to be the kind of husband and father to my wife and children that I want to be and am called to be. God doesn’t want this for me.

So I am making the change. Gym membership. Trainer hired. Diet started. And one heck of a year in store for me. And this time next year, I won’t be a Fatty anymore. Care to join me?

P.S. My Dad has challenged me to the 2013 Cooper River Bridge Run. And yes, this is the worst mistake he has ever made. Is there a Bible verse that says I shouldn’t embarrass my father? Oh well…