My wife warned me not to post this pic. She said I would immediatly regret it; the Internet never forgets.
Well, I’m going to. Nobody reads this blog anyway. 😉
Losing 20 lbs in 6 weeks has not been too bad an ordeal. You can see my pants are now falling off me, after I lost inches off my waist.
Unfortunately, the worst part of taking a picture like this is seeing how other people actually see you IRL.
It’s not a pretty sight.
Though I have shed 20 lbs already (which I have done simply by cutting out ice cream, not pigging out, walking the dog, and lifting barbells a child would laugh at), I still need to lose another eighteen for my next stage of becoming a thin man again.
I have a dangerous amount of visceral fat slopping around my heart and internal organs. So what I need to do is just keep burning off the fat in my body, and see what happens.
Now they say stress causes you to gain heft.
If that is so, I have should not ordinarily have succeeded in breathing out even 1 mm³ of CO2 fat burn these past two months.
The truth is, I have been under a massive amount of stress since October ’22 — trying to sell a frumpy house up in NY that I inherited from my late mother.
Frankly, my wife and I could use the money, given all these expenses with the new house we just bought in Florida.
It was tough for a while, as all we were just getting bottom-feeder offers, while massive interest rate changes induced by the Fed were destroying the real estate market around much of the country.
But at long last came a reasonable offer from a youngish gay couple.
Everything was looking good, and I was literally measuring for curtains in the new house.
Then a survey was conducted at their lending bank’s behest, and it was determined that a neighbor’s fence was encroaching by a micro amount of space on my late mother’s back yard.
This raised an obscure legal issue called adverse possession.
I won’t get into any detail, but this ultimately caused the bank to hold off on approving their mortgage commitment to the buyers.
Now the May 9 closing is in jeopardy, and maybe the deal will ultimately fall through, if I don’t resolve this as well as a couple of other, equally niggling issues.
From a thousand miles away, given that I actually live in Florida.
With a city building department in NY that recently transitioned to electronic records and lost or misfiled some key documents that are needed by the bank to close.
In the middle of all this real estate drama, I’m trying to keep my body from pumping out massive quantities of cortisol, which is the reason why my glucose numbers were kinda in the crapper when I took my blood test a month ago.
I am taking another one in a few days.
This will be the first confirmation if I have succeeded in bringing down my glucose to acceptable levels, and will not have to take statins — which my doctor wants to prescribe. His is of course a questionable idea, medically-speaking, if I am borderline Type 2: a statin side effect is to increase blood sugar levels.
Meanwhile, I’m hanging in there, despite all the stress — but this not being able to control things is driving me up a wall. It always has.
At least I can manage what food goes in my body.
If I succeed in getting to 235 lbs withiin a couple of months, despite this being a nightmare period, well, that won’t be nothing — if it happens.
I just want to be able to see my dick again when I look down, dig?