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03.19.00 To everyone who found me from here . . . you’re sick I tell you. SICK! * * * Special Notice: My last entry was not my way of saying “Goodbye Forever, Internet”, though it appeared that way to some of you. Thanks to all who wrote (except for Uncle Bob, he taunted me) assuring me I should stick around for awhile. I really didn’t intend for that last post to be a call for e-mail. I thought that as I left the site up and finished with an, “I hope you understand”, it was clear. Nevertheless, your e-mail was so wonderful. Someone from California even made me cry a little. That’s why I do this. Sometimes I get an e-mail that makes me cry (in a good way, not like Bob’s way). And that’s why I’m going to pull an Emeril and BAM, kick it up a notch. So here’s my idea. I’m a pretty hefty porker. You can’t tell from the webcam pictures, but I’m enormous. I’m about 40 pounds overweight and I’ve grown tired of lugging it around. I was positively svelte until I hit 25, and then something mysterious happened to my body. It got larger. And larger. And larger. It’s like some kind of crazy voodoo curse, the Taco Bell goes in and never comes out. I hadn’t realized how huge I’d become until I got the pictures back from the Bowl-A-Thon. I look like that chick in the Meridia commercials (the one that’s roller blading, not the one getting her picture taken). I must have some sort of reverse anorexia because I swear, I don’t look like that in the mirror. I haven’t really paid much attention to the extra weight, except for the few occasions when my pants would split up the back after bending over. (Okay, so that never happened, but according to the Bowl-A-Thon photo, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.) So I was thinking. . . I’ll coordinate my massive Weight-Off plan with the journal. I’ll move to a new URL (something I’d been planning anyway), get involved in some fitness program, and chronicle it pound by pound, fortified with photos and webcam footage (yikes) of the progress. If I’m lucky, I can get into somewhere that will let me discount the program and trade for advertising. Maybe I can get someone who’ll let me bring the web cam in and record some of the sessions. I’m considering Pilates. It’s not nearly as trendy as Tae Bo, as offensive as female body building, or as boring as Yoga. There are several certified instructors here in Chicago and I’m going to start calling around tomorrow. I hope this guy is up for it. Rowr! Of course, the outcome of this idea is dependent upon two factors: A. I don’t have cancer.
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