The holidays are over but still won’t go workout.
The holidays are over but still won’t go workout.
After yo-yoing from 180 pounds to 237 pounds and points between for several years, I’ve resolved to make 2018 the year I finally get back to a healthy weight.
Every year the most popular resolution is to lose weight, making up a third of all New Year’s resolutions. Yet chances are good my weight loss resolution will fail soon. Just over 20 percent of resolutions fail within a week, 40 percent after 30 days, and 50 percent after 90 days.
Still, I’m going to give it my best shot. Here are three ways I’m going to fight to lose weight this year.
The problem with our society is food is too readily available. By burying all my food in the forest, I’ll think twice before going to get a snack. Gee, I’d like to eat some potato chips during the football game, but it will take me 20 minutes to hike outside, half an hour to dig up the food, and another 20 to hike back, and I’ll still forget the dip.
Trying to eat healthy food that can help you lose weight is hard because healthy food is scarce while junk food is everywhere. To combat this problem for 2018, I’m considering only eating fresh bananas I can carry on my head under my golf hat.
Losing weight is easier when you add revenge to your motivation. Several of my exes left me because I was “too fat.” I built an extension ring I wear on my head that allows me to see their photos all day. Every time I’m about to eat a bag of chips, I see their condescending faces. So far it seems to work, although I noticed something weird: Many girls I date look a lot like my mom. Should I be concerned?
I’m not sure about this medical center. There is a cemetery out back.
Ladies, you rely on your hair stylist to keep you looking attractive and sharp. Then why are you making them crazy doing these dumb things?
It’s funny, but they don’t teach mind reading at hairstylist school. What did you expect? Were you waiting for your stylist to place their hands on your face like Spock and do a mind meld, instantly knowing what style you want? Hey, at least give them some idea, like, “I want to look like a blend of Nicole Kidman in ‘Eyes Wide Shut’ and a young Katy Perry.”
Here is what the stylist wants to say: “Hey, sleepy-head. Don’t have an alarm clock at your house? Gee, we waited and pushed our whole salon schedule to accommodate you, because you know we love you. But the next time you come in late without calling and expect us to just slide you into a chair we have set aside for your highness, save your breath. Keep on driving down to Supercuts.”
Your stylist doesn’t sit in the back of your car and say you missed the exit and ask why you are driving so slow. So why do you sit in the chair and second guess every clip of the scissors? Look, you may be right. It could come out wrong and you look like Kesha waking up after a five day bender. On the other hand, you might emerge as the Paris Fashion Week catwalk-strutting supermodel you think you really are. Let them drive.
Is there a heavy sleeper in your house? Maybe your partner, child, or relative is the one who sleeps like a log in the forest. If there is a heavy sleeper in your house who you can’t wake up in time for school or work, here are three alarm clocks that will get them up-and-at-’em.
The blanket toss requires some strength, but is very effective. Drag the blanket with the person still on it to the nearest Starbucks. Have everyone in the store yell the heavy sleeper’s name at the same time. “Wake up, Brenda! Wake up!”
Take 1000 feathers and tickle them while saying, “Are you getting up, now? Huh? Are you?” as they convulse in tickle panic and laugh so hard they throw up.
Cut a hole in the roof of you house beforehand. The next time they won’t wake, lower a rope from a helicopter through the roof. Lift their entire bed and float it out over the nearest ocean, lake or deep river. Drop the bed in the water and watch the fun. Who’s awake now?
Pressed for time? Can’t get that workout in?
It’s hard to find time to exercise today with all the things you have to do. Yet you need to exercise to perform at the top of your game.
This 7-Minute workout is all you need to keep fit.
Wiggle your ears as fast as you fan to warm up.
Your eyes are the window to the soul. Blink your eyes as rapidly as you can, while wiggling your ears if possible.
Loosen up your core by yodeling vigorously.
Now get your legs in the act by moonwalking around the room.
Warm up your hands and arms by doing the raise the roof motion while moonwalking.
Now work on strength training by moving the furniture around the room at your spouses’ direction, only to move it back because “it doesn’t look right.”
Cool down by taking a cold pitcher of Old Style beer and dumping it on your head. You weren’t going to drink that stuff, were you?
Want to know how long you are going to live? Check out the Life Expectancy Calculator:
I returned a call from the doctor’s office at the hospital.
“Hi, I’m returning your call.”
“Yes, when can you come in for a follow up visit?”
“Well, I live in LA so I can’t.”
“…so…I can’t make a follow up visit.”
“Okay. Is Wednesday good, say 10am?”
“It’s not, I live in Los Angeles. In California.”
“How about Friday at 11am?”
“I can’t make a follow up visit. I’m not in Ohio. I was back temporarily because I ran out of money, stuff you really, really need in California. That’s the beauty of big Catholic families. Somebody always has a room.”
“O)K, neither one works. Why don’t you suggest a time?”
“I’m..saying..I..don’t..live..there..and..I can’t..come..in..ever..unless..my..plane..crashes.. into..your..fountain..someday.”
“OK, so you called us. What can I do for you?”
Outside the shower at the gym I heard, “Hey, can I borrow your phone?”
The sound of the rushing water made it hard to hear. Is somebody asking another person if they can borrow their phone? Who takes their phone to the showers?
“Hey, man, can I borrow your phone?” I hear again. I turned off the water.
“Are you talking to me?” I called out beyond my shower stall.
I pulled back the curtain. A hand from the next stall was sticking out of the shower next door, cupped like they expected me to pour soap in it.
“Can I borrow some soap?”
“Oh, soap. I thought you said phone.”
Who borrows soap?
“Here, take the whole bottle.”
I left quick.
Now that my various hospital stays have subsided — at least for now — I decided to join a gym. My goal is to lose the weight I gained while healing, and hopefully some more.
My gym has three long rows of elliptical machines, stair-steppers, and treadmills facing a bank of TVs on the wall. As is my habit, just like in 4th grade, I take the back row and begin observing people.
One married couple is entertaining because they work out together. They are young 30s-ish, in great shape, the kind of couple that probably met at the gym, married, had 2.5 kids and still work out together. The problem is, they are rarely apart. The hit the weight machines together, run the treadmills right next to each other, smiling at each other the whole time.
And God knows they are fit. I watched as they both ran at double my lethargic speed, like gazelles on the Serengeti, moving effortlessly. I barely work up a sweat, but it pours off their body from the hard effort they put in. The treadmills spin and churn under their fast feet, while mine moans along with my tired stride.
I try to distract myself from their physical superiority by immersing myself in the Jerry Springer show on one of the TVs. There seems to be a serious fight among the guests, and two women have pulled each other’s wigs off during a round of fisticuffs. Ten minutes later, I spy the fit couple still running at high speed. Their bodies are taught, muscles driving, sweat pouring. A lot of sweat. Their treadmills and the surrounding treadmills look like they were hosed down by the fire department.
I look again at the TV bank and settle on a show featuring a couple trying to decide from among three different houses. The first house has an exceptional wine cellar, the second has a great yard but lousy basement, and the third is historic and charming, but oh, my, it will take months to renovate the kitchen. What will they decide? They make an offer on the charming one, and I know they will soon be on another show called “Renovation Projects We Regret.”
Fit couple is sweating more than ever, the sweat rivers flowing off them, creating a small pond near their machines. Seven minutes later, the pond has become a lake. I see families of geese and ducks moving across the water, occasionally diving for fish.
As the home shopping show ends, the water has risen. My ankles are covered, but I keep walking. Some gym-goers have climbed up on the rails of their machines as the water moves ever higher. I look up to see a police helicopter flying low beneath the closing gap between ceiling and water level. A rumor spreads the police are looking for a family that tried to swim to the exit for safety, only to find they couldn’t open the door from the inside.
The water is up to my chest now. I wonder if I will get electrocuted. Fit couple keeps running, sweating, and smiling. They are holding hands now, looking into each other’s eyes across the treadmill divide. A small fishing boat pulls behind me, a man standing on the bow of the boat, casting into the area near the ab machines. I see a group of teenagers speed by in a water-ski boat near the from windows, two of them skimming the water behind taught ski lines. s
Finally, fit couple wind down their workout, their ocean of sweat filling the gym. You are supposed to wipe down a machine after using it, but I don’t think they will be able. The machines are seven or eight feet below the surface now. Might as well drain the place, hose it down with rubbing alcohol and set it on fire.
Like many people at the gym, Mr. My-Headphones-Are-Bigger-Than-My-Head is into listening to music while working out. To get the best sound, he uses only the best headphones possible. And to duplicate the live concert experience, he likes to use giant headphones that spread out from his head like moons on a planet that never escaped gravity enough to go fully into their own orbit.
Have you ever coughed halfway through a sneeze, which stuffs the sneeze out but makes you choke on the sudden change in velocity, causing you to cough violently for 5 minutes? That’s called a cougheezecough.