Scott Charles Adams' Blog

It’s hard to lose weight.

Well, let me clarify. It’s actually stupid-easy to lose weight. I joined Weight Watchers two weeks ago. I’m not a spokesperson for Weight Watchers — they don’t send me free T-shirts or keychains (although after this post, who knows!) but I lost 50 lbs on Weight Watchers a few years back and I know it’s easy and it works.

And part of me wants to shout from the rooftops how easy it is — because no one has to be heavy if it makes them unhappy. I joined two weeks ago, and I’m down eight pounds. I’m not some super-disciplined guy. I’m not a gym rat. I’m not working out three times a week (the commute for my new job doesn’t leave me that sort of spare time) (but, by the way, I really should be working out three times a week — more on that in a moment). In fact, I haven’t even approached Weight Watchers with Ordinary Weight Watchers Discipline. Last week, I got an Italian hoagie and an apple fritter from Wawa. The hoagie was a Forgivable Sin under Weight Watchers. I’ve got the points for that. I, in no way, had the points for that colossal fritter. And tonight, I’m drinking a pint of Jack Daniel’s. I’m not saying, “It’s easy, you just have to have some self-control.” I’m saying this is regular-old easy.

The hard part of losing weight is looking at yourself in the mirror. You probably already know that your body will fight your attempts to lose weight. It will go into starvation mode if you’re not careful. Your metabolism will slow, your energy will dwindle, and it will adjust to your new caloric intake to prevent weight loss. But your mind will also fight your attempts to lose weight.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I look gaunt. Stringy. Lanky. I look like I’m dying. Which, I really don’t. I’ve got many pounds to go — but my mind interprets the Me Minus Eight Pounds as ‘gaunt’ relative to two weeks ago, and it’s genuinely frightening. I start to wonder whether I’m still in control. I start to think that maybe I should put two pounds back on, just to prove that the weight loss is indeed due to my efforts and not due to some yet-to-be-diagnosed medical condition.

So, yeah. I’m down eight pounds and it’s a little scary.

Oh! I promised I would mention why it’s important that I work out three times a week: not all of the weight I’m losing is fat. If I continue to lose weight without working out, I’m gonna lose a lot of muscle. The shape of my body will remain the same — I’ll just be a deflated version of the fat-bastard I was when I started. So once I’ve adjusted the length of my commute by moving closer to my job, I’ll definitely go back to working out.

Oh — and I think I’ll post my progress. That way, you can all come on this horrifying journey with me! Won’t that be fun!?!?

3/9/18: 270 lbs
3/16/18: 265 lbs
3/23/18: 262 lbs (maybe less — I took a huge crap after I weighed myself) (like, a bigger crap than you’ve ever crapped) (seriously)

I’ll try to update the weight weekly — not as a boast, but to make me feel accountable for the week.

And because I’m sure the GOP has me in their database under the “Fat Bastard” category, and that situation is just untenable.

Yesterday, while ironing, I dipped the sleeve of my shirt into the cat’s water. It’s a 36″ sleeve. It’s gonna go wherever the hell it wants to go.

It was a little funny.

Today, I tried on a new pair of work boots. It was my second attempt at ordering boots from the Freak Store. First pair was too small, despite being 14 Wide. And this second pair wasn’t quite working either.

I started to wonder whether it was me. Maybe I was too freaky for the Freak Store. Maybe I was taking that next great evolutionary step forward, and human shoes weren’t going to fit me anymore. Maybe I should see a doctor.

Or, maybe I should take the last piece of cardboard out of the shoes.

It was a little funny.

So, I’m thinking tomorrow, I’ll see if I can take a short break from being funny. Because this is getting tiring.