January 26, 2000

I put some pictures up of our recent trip to Minneapolis. They're on the picture page. One of our friends took them with a digital camera, and when she posted them, I promptly stole all of the ones that had me or Keith in them, and put them on my own page. I got her permission first, though, don't worry. I did, really.

Trauma. Last night I went to the gym, as part of my Quest to Become Buff. I was snooping around the locker room trying to find the bathroom stalls, when I found the scale.

It stared at me blankly. I knew what it was thinking. It was thinking "Go ahead. Make my day. Set foot on me, bitch. I'll ruin your life."

I stared back.

Somewhere, a dog barked.

The scale was not the boss of me. I didn't care what it said. I was just curious. It had been over a year since the last time I'd set foot on one. Just curious. Didn't bother me. No matter what it said, I'd be cool with it. Yeah. Real cool. Cool as a cucumber. That scale had nothin' on me.

I didn't even bother to take off my sneakers. That's how cool I was about it.

So, I stepped up, and started sliding the little weights over. And over. And over. WAY past where they'd slid to the last time I was on a scale. WAY, WAY past.

I was a full twenty pounds heavier than I'd thought I was. The scale smirked at me.

I kicked it. Smirking bastard. You'll pay for this. Oh, you'll pay.

So anyway, I weighed myself BEFORE my workout, so I had a really intense workout. I mean, it's improbable that I could lose those twenty pounds in one 45-minute workout session, but it's not impossible, right? I definitely tried my hardest. I was lifting weights and running on the treadmill and lifting more weights and using the exercycle and then lifting even MORE weights. It's a miracle I didn't kill myself. I spent twenty minutes on the Stairmaster. TWENTY MINUTES! That's enough to kill an adult human male. Nobody is supposed to do twenty minutes on those things. Afterward, I thought I was going to throw up.

Then I went home and ate lettuce and drank water. Keith came home and asked what I wanted for dinner, and I told him I was never eating again. He sort of arched an eyebrow at me and asked if that meant I didn't want to go out for cheeseburgers? and I screamed and buried my head under a pillow.

I settled down eventually and realized that yes, I will have to eat again. Someday. Maybe not today. Today I'll eat Tic-Tacs and drink water. Then I'll go lift more weights. Yeah.

OK, maybe Tic-Tacs and a peanut butter sandwich. And, I suppose Keith would be disappointed if I never ate dinner with him again, so I guess I'll have to eat dinner too. The world is conspiring against me.

This is definitely great motivation for me to hit the gym every day, though. I was being pretty good about going regularly anyway, and now I am definitely not going to miss a day. Hell, no. Besides, going to the gym makes me feel all strong and buff, and that's my ultimate goal anyway. The Quest for Buffness will not be denied.

I've also decided that I'm going to try to give up Coke. I'm not going cold turkey. I wouldn't survive. Instead, I'm limiting myself to three Cokes a week. I thought about switching to Diet, but that stuff really just tastes awful. I mean, really bad. I have a theory that there's more than one calorie in each can, but you'll never notice because you'll never finish the can. So, Diet is out. But three regular Cokes per week won't hurt me. Much.

Also, I'm going to have to get my caffeine from elsewhere, so I'm going to have to start drinking coffee again. With one cube of sugar, not two. And lo-fat milk. Not cream. Hell no. Cream is evil now. So are cheeseburgers. And french fries. Especially french fries.

OK, maybe I can have a cheeseburger once a week or so. Definitely not for every meal. Not that I was doing that before! So don't think I was. I definitely was not going to either Jack in the Box or McDonald's every day. And I definitely was not alternating with Taco Bell when I got bored. No. Definitely not.

These extra twenty pounds are like the little Space Invaders, and I am the attacking ship. I will eradicate them, row by row, until they are GONE. GONE GONE GONE. Destroyed. By me, the conquering hero. Watch me burn.

THE FORUM: What would kill you to give up eating?

MORE FORUM: More tech support horror stories.

FORUM PART TROIS: Some people have a really good reason tohate planes.

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