Nude by Christmas

38 years old, 102kg. One of those numbers is about to change.

Archive for the tag “thin”

Lose weight fast: get sick.

If you really want to lose weight: get sick. Trust me, it’s been my most effective technique. I don’t mean really sick, like leukemia sick, or cancer-of-the-colon sick. Just sick sick. Flu sick. While those other kinds of sickness will greatly assist in weight-loss, they also have a pretty nasty side-effect: death. But flu sick is fine. A couple of days of sweating up a storm, dropping a few kilos, then you’re right as rain.

Dietitians and doctors amongst my many, many readers will be aghast at this suggestions, so I should assure you that I don’t really mean it.

But boy does it work.

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Friday Night Lighter

Blogging live from the gym tonight. First time here for two weeks, and expecting to hurt a little tomorrow. I weighed myself on arrival, which was a dumb thing to do after a two week holiday in cheese and wine country. Time to play catch up now.

There are only three other people here tonight. All guys. It’s Friday – I’m a father of three kids under 7 years of age, what’s their excuse for spending Friday night at the gym?

There’s a hairier, fatter, older bloke than me huffing and puffing his way through a weights circuit, like he’s going to blow this house down; a guy with a boy-band hair-cut splashing sweat all over the screen of his exercise bike; a tiny little guy doing HIIT on a treadmill – grunting like one of the little pigs the hairy guy might quite like to devour, and; oh, and a fourth, some guy staring into the mirror, willing it to tell him who’s the fairest of them all.

Well it’s not me. Not tonight. 14 days out of the sweatshop has left me saggier and baggier than a little elephant.

But I’m here. Like these other guys. Hairy, sweaty, big, small, pretty, neatly groomed or otherwise. We’re here.

For me, that’s a win.

Insta-fibby photos by Insta-fatties (like me)

I post pictures of my fat gut and man boobs on Instagram. It’s off-putting for some, I’m sure. In a community that is seemingly populated with six pack abs, buns of steel, thigh gaps (I’d never noticed them as being so sexy before) and picture perfect pecs, I am the wobbly whale. The thing is, my photos are of me. Peter Perfect Pecs and Belinda Bubble Butt’s pics are of… models. Hot guys and girls from around the world and across the net, perfectly shot by pro photographer, then just as perfectly photo-shopped by pimply nerd on an iMac. I’ll admit I can’t help but ‘like’ these. Who wouldn’t like a twenty year-old babe’s butt you could bounce a dime off? Who doesn’t crave the Atlas shoulders you could – probably literally – carry the weight of the world on. I’m happy to admit that I love seeing these pics come up in my feed… pure eye candy.

And that’s where my problem starts. The sweeter the eye candy, the less nutritious these pics are for my soul. And it’s in the soul that I need the most nutrition.

So what feeds my soul is the fatties like me. The men and women brave enough to bare their souls, not just their tits and asses. The mums struggling to drop gut and boobs that arrived when they delivered their third child. The chubby teenager, who’s realised being a Pringles gobbling Prince of Persia legend isn’t going to get him laid. The dad who works for himself, just not on himself, and has let the Coca Cola Company’s advertising wizardry drown him in feel good calories for years on end… hey? That’s me.

Nothing inspires as much as before-and-after pics. We all love a good story with a happy ending. A journey through fear, with hope on our side, that results in a victory, a transformation…

…and, in my case, a body as hot as my inner soul 😉

Stay tuned.

Me

I’ll get around to publishing a photo, but it’s likely to be headless – at least until I have the confidence to show my face alongside my gut. Yeah, this is all about self-esteem really, isn’t it? I clearly don’t feel great about myself, so I figure if there’s less of me to feel great about, then it will just get easier. Follow my logic?

So I’m Australian, from one of the warmer parts. There’s little excuse to be unfit and unhealthy where I live. It’s the middle of winter right now and there’s not a cloud in the sky on a 21 degrees Celcius day. For anyone visiting from the US, that’s about 70 degrees in your language. I am married, have three kids and work for myself.

The last time I was really fit I was in high school. Twenty years ago. I played a lot of basketball and was quite a good swimmer. I’m about 190cm tall, so when I’m fit and healthy, I expect I’ll be drop dead handsome.

I’m kidding.

You’ll get to know more about me as we go along.

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