Friday, December 29, 2006

My Six Pack Belly, Resoluteness, And The Bond New Year...


Double O Seven...

Cool huh? The Bond New Year... Complete with hybrid sports cars and wild, Brazilian-waxed women. (What’s up with THAT anyway? You make a law saying it is illegal for a man to have sex with an under aged girl and then you spend a hundred bucks making yourself LOOK under aged?)

Hmmm.

Maybe I am just getting old and fat and therefore out of touch and a tad old-fashioned? Maybe middle age is what they say it is, a resting place between your youth and your infirmity? Maybe I have arrived at the juncture where new trends start to appear like silly aberrations that we’ll all get over soon like we got over dressing like Madonna and moon walking like Michael?

Maybe reaching the middle is an unintended consequence of counting years at every silly years end?

Well, OK, so I just made that last up without thinking that thought through.. (I am in the making up stuff about middle age mode, at the moment, and it is all so new and foreign to me you’ll have to forgive me as I grope around for things to think and feel about it.)

My birthday is a month and a week after the New Year starts. I turn 44 years old. That’s half of 88, which is where I expect to make my departure if all goes according to plan. That means I am half way to the end and it also means that I am half way into this thing, making it the mid-point which is one of those soft in the middle words, making me ripe for a bit of a “mid-life” crises.

I was thinking today of the coming year and my expectations for it, what I wanted out of the year, what my plans were... you know... end of the year/beginning of the new year stuff...

It all boiled down to one question. What was it that I was most unhappy about? What would I like to alter in my reality the most?

There she is. In all her bare hairy voluptuousness.
In all her gory pregnant nakedness. Like a blimp at a Super Bowl. A washed up Blue whale. A bloated beer belly...

Yeah. Just like that. A bloated beer belly. I have six-pack abs (where the cans have all been punctured and the beer has spilled into the plastic bag.)

Dunlop's disease. (Where the belly has Dun lopped over the belt...)

A gut A pouch. A BELLY. My very first one.

It took me awhile, but I grew it myself.

I remember about twelve years ago my brother (Married with two great kids) threw out his back and I went by to see him and he was laying on his floor in the TV room and his then six year old daughter was trying to get him to play. I laid down on the floor too and was just chatting as his daughter tried to jump atop his belly like she had always done before he hurt his back. His wife said--”Go over and jump on Scott’s belly. Your daddy has hurt his back.”

His daughter came over to me and looked down and got all concerned and confused. She turned to her Mom-- “But Scott doesn’t have a belly!”

And that is the way I always preferred it. No chubby tummy. No Toad back. No waist size bigger than my inseam on a pair of jeans.

So there you go.

My new Year’s Resolution. Drop 20 pounds by my birthday and get back to a 36 inch waist. And finish my novel.

Nothing earth shattering. Just that. And I figured if I made it a public declaration I would follow through like I did with Nanowrimo, which taught me I still had some tenacity within me if I put my mind on right.

Ergo the disgusting beer belly photo. The only way to live this down is to actually accomplish what I set out to do. Otherwise, I am the nutjobber who posted his big gut on the internet. (Reverse psychology played against my self, like reverse psychology in reverse...)

BTW--I designed those skivvies myself...

10 comments:

WildFlower said...

if you walk about 7 to 8 hours a day at least 4 days a week and sweat ALOT and eat much less...you should make it in a month and a week!!

Hammer said...

lol Scott we could probably swap clothes.

I went from 36x36 pants and XL shirt in highschool to 38x34 and XXL shirt these days.

Whenever I need to work on the belly I just stop eating bread and switch to light beer for a couple months.

Nikky said...

I don't know, losing 20 lbs in 5 weeks, I don't know that that is a healthy way to do it. I always thought losing weight slower was safer for you, and held a higher liklihood that you would keep it off.
However, if you can lose 20 lbs in 5 weeks, then go for it! I should actually jump on that particular bandwagon myself, but I lack the willpower... besides Little Debbie has it out for me, the little bitch!
Good Luck Scott!!

Lizza said...

Good luck, Scott. You can probably do it, but I agree with Nikky--20 lbs in 5 weeks doesn't sound too safe health-wise.

Nice Spiderman skivvies, btw. :-)

Happy 'Bond' New Year to you, too!

Flat Coke and Flies said...

Nice um spider.

You know when you watch all that porn you like looking at bare coochies!!! It's "supposed" to turn a man on to have the BRAZ.

You'll finish your novel, no doubt. Losing weight is tough. Eat less, exercise more. Less calories, more sweating.

Happy New Year!

Maggie said...

A noble goal. I'm working on the same two things, though I wouldn't call mine a beer belly - its more of a post twin pregnancy (I know 2 years post but hey) and chocolate belly. And the novel work too. Maybe we can encourage each other.

Scott from Oregon said...

Maggie-- You have my sympathetic support alright. Now get out there and ride that life-cycle!!

Hammer-- Yep. Bread and beer are killing me. They both go for five weeks. I'll mourn my loss, to be sure...

And to you others. Twenty pounds when you are 270 is not a great loss, in percentages.

It is only about 2/3 a pound a day and in total only 1/135 of my total body weight.

But thanks for worrying about my health!

Little Miss Kylie said...

Scott, warn me in advance when you're going to post a semi-nude photo of yourself... please

I was eating something when I happened across your blog, as I do most days, and almost choked to death. For future reference, Finn doesn't know the heimlich manouvre.

Bernita said...

Dear me.
Erm.
Thank you for dropping by my blog, Scott.

Just do it.
Not for dames, but for fear of diabetes.

Nancy Dancehall said...

Dern it, my comment yesterday got eaten somehow. Let's see if I can remember...

*counting on fingers and toes* That would make your birthday Feb 7th? Cool. Mine's the 9th, and it's the one where I pull closer to 40 than 30. I've got a post-pregnancy twin belly like Maggie that I need to tighten up, and a novel to finish like the both of you. What say we toast our achievements together? Does 2010 work for you guys?