So, a few weeks ago my best friend Paul Dunn, a great American, kind of not-too-subtly rebuked me for the lack of updates about my dieting adventures. Truth is, I haven't been dieting. The last year has been hell, and as I'm a stress eater, dieting was an afterthought.
Well his stinging reminder has motivated me to go back on the South Beach Diet, effective 7AM this morning. Today's weight = 425.3 lbs.
Juan Carlos, our bet is on; you'd better get on board, or I'm gonna be the owner of Starcraft 2, if and when the vaporware materializes.
I'm also going to fire up the old Maybeexercisewillhelp blog, even though I am severely hobbled by a nagging achilles tendonitis that I got while climbing that big hill in Washington D.C. to get to Howard every day. That I got tendonitis from walking is probably due to my weight and not stretching, so all these feedback systems need to be addressed by lessening the burden on the bod.
Getting old sucks; it's inevitable. Being fat is partly controllable; I'll never be skinny, but if I weighed 325, life would be very different. My first goal is 399.8, or what I weighed last Christmas Day.