Project 175: The Battle Begins

Losing weight, no matter how interesting you try to make it, is not nearly as fun as gaining weight. Operation 200 was ultimately a failure, but boy did I enjoy it! It was ten days of unrestrained gluttony in the American Midwest as I freely indulged in all three of my essential food groups: the meat group, the beer group, and the sweets group. I laid around, relaxed, and fattened myself up with great diligence. Having missed the milestone 200 mark by approximately two pounds, I was unable to raise my fist in the air victoriously. But no worries! A new endeavor begins on this day - the first of “fall” 2011 on the Rutledge calendar (which revolves around my wife’s teaching schedule). Project 175 commences, and it will be far tougher than Operation 200. The task is to “cut down” to 175 pounds for a couple reasons. #1, I am a man of 40 and need to worry about such things as cholesterol, blood sugar, and blood pressure. #2, my wife and I are planning to partake of a Caribbean beach vacation early next year, and I want to be shredded for the beach (because, you know, I’m a vain, self-obsessed A-hole).

And so it goes. I arose this morning and weighed in (198 on the home scale). My waist line measured an out-of-hand 36 ¼ inches. I turned on my XM radio and tuned in to Little Steven’s Underground Garage channel. For the purposes of ceremony, I blasted the rock n’ roll and shaved my nine-day-old beard. My cat walked by and meowed out of respect. The game face is on. It’s time to get down to business. I will hereby be limiting myself to one beer per day. Sweets are out. Pop is out. Late night snacking is out. Branched chain amino acids and whey protein will be purchased in bulk. My first objective is to get down to 190 within three weeks. Workouts will no longer be devoted to hoisting ego-boosting poundages. I’m training for function. I’m training for performance. If Armageddon comes between now and the end of the year, I will be fit for hand-to-hand combat. Mad Max would understand. So would Rambo.

If you hear a scream around 9:30 Eastern Time tonight, it’s just me jonesing for oatmeal raisin cookies.

- L.R.