Just the facts, please.

I'm running with a weekend theme here. I'm tired of being lied to. By the health industries, by the government, by the press and today, I'll add by food manufacturers.

The new Dietary Guidelines for Americans says we should be eating more whole grains. The easiest way to do that, one would think, would be to switch to multi-grain bread.

But not so fast!

Take a look at the nutritional information of that loaf of multi-grain bread. What's the first ingredient? Wheat flour, perhaps? Notice a word missing?

WHOLE!!!

That's right, if it doesn't say whole wheat flour, it's just white bread with some other grains thrown in so it can be called multi-grain.

Bastards.

We're fatter than ever before. The media and all these health associations and government departments are telling us to eat better and get off our duffs, but when one actually makes the decision and the effort to do something, we have to wade into this morass of lies and deceptions.

Zero Trans fat doesn’t automatically mean low in fat. Multi-grain bread isn't a whole grain bread. Don't eat carbs. Do eat carbs. Low protein. High protein. Eat in moderation. Only extremes will make radical changes in your body.

Blah, blah, fucking blah!!!!!

This is giving me a migraine. Or maybe I didn't eat enough carbs today. Or maybe it's because I eat meat. Or maybe it's the preservatives in my food. Or the growth hormones in the chicken I ate. Or the artificial sugars in my diet. Or the air quality in my home. Or dust and pollen. Or mold. Or maybe my hormones are out of whack.

Or maybe it's from bashing my head against the wall trying to figure out what to put in my body to help me lose weight and become healthy again! Yeah, maybe that's it!

Bastards.

BMI Redux

This is really bugging me today, so I checked on a couple of others. Take a look at this:

Ronnie Coleman is the reigning and 8-time winner of Mr. Olympia. His BMI is 39. That's higher than mine!

You tell me how that man is in any way shape form or fashion OBESE!!!

This is just another useless statistic the health industries are giving to the press to throw at the American public! Let's cause a panic with insane numbers that list some of the fittest human beings on earth as overweight or obese.

I am so tired of being lied to.

BMI Stand for Blind Male Idiots

In many articles I read about fitness and weight loss something called the BMI is mentioned. I looked it up recently to find out exactly what it was and how it was calculated. BMI is the Body Mass Index. According to the CDC's web page on it, BMI is "a number that shows body weight adjusted for height." There is even a simple formula for it and the site provides a calculator. You punch in your height and weight and it tells you if you fall in to one of four categories: underweight, normal, overweight or obese.

At 5'8" and 240lbs, my BMI is 36.5. Obese. No arguments from me. But I've heard a lot of bitching about the BMI, so I decided to test it for myself. I went to cnnsi and pulled stats about different athletes and punched them in. It's been interesting.

Jerome Bettis is considered Obese on the BMI. Now, you Steelers fans know that Jerome is a big boy, so I thought I could let that one pass.

I tried Ben Roethlisberger next. He's a tall man and in great shape obviously. According to the BMI, he's overweight.

Okay, I figured it's all the muscle, right? It's throwing it off. So I looked at the kicker, Chris Gardocki, one of the few guys on the team listed as less than 200lbs. BMI says? Overweight.

Well, maybe a different sport then. I turned to my Boston Red Sox and speedy outfielder Trot Nixon. At 6'2" and 210lbs, Trot is considered overweight and actually pushing obese a little by the BMI. I looked up Michael Jordan's old playing weight. BMI says he's overweight. Did that man have an ounce of fat on him????

Who came up with this horse shit? And how much did they pay him?

Where's the Sex Quiz?

I recently picked up the latest edition of Muscle and Fitness and made a rather startling discovery.

It's a women's magazine!!!!!

*gasp* The horror!! Did you hear that sound? Yeah, the was the Governator choking on his cigar.

But really, think about flipping through a Cosmo or something. How many pages do you have to go through before you reach the TABLE OF CONTENTS? You know, that thing that's supposed to be at the beginning? About 10 or 15 pages, right? Same with Muscle and Fitness! Do you wonder where the articles are sometimes because of all the ads? Same with Muscle and Fitness! In fact, M&F had these huge multi-page ads that I sometimes read part of thinking they're an article. I mean, SIX page ads litter this magazine! The only differences are that M&F doesn't stink like the perfume counter at the mall and instead of movie stars and models, the pages are filled with freaky huge dudes. And the sex quiz, of course. I'm sure Joe Weider would not be thrilled by this comparison, but if the sparkly thong fits...

I actually enjoy the magazine, despite my teasing. I get a lot of great info out of it on nutrition and exercises. This month, however, delivered a special treat. Ms. Muscle and Fitness. There are actually two fabulous ladies that earned the title this year, but it was the amazing Jennifer Nicole Lee that really caught my attention.

Yes, the bod helps.

But what really impressed me was the fact that this 2004 Ms. Bikini America is the mother of two and as recently as 2003, weighed in at 190lbs.

WOW!!!!!

Talk about some inspiration! Proof positive that I can change my body with the right attitude and enough hard work. That picture will go up in my weight room.

Because she's so inspiring.

Really.

Stop laughing.

You see this eye twitch? Yeah, it means back off.

Stupid people trample my one good nerve. I'm a massage therapist by trade and we went to this huge fancy gym tonight to give a seminar on how massage can help in injury recovery and combating soreness and stuff like that. The half-wit that owns the place just advertised us as giving free massage. In fact, her flier said "FREE MASSAGE'S (sic) Bring a friend, have a blast."

What the fuck?

I don't do anything for free unless she's got broad shoulders and a nice ass. Thankfully, only three people decided to take advantage of our "generosity" and we'll most likely see all three of them here in our office. I'm just trying to figure out how information seminar turned into free chair massage. Maybe the sweaty boy smell of the place has robbed her of too many brain cells.

We then came back to the office only to get a phone call from a new client, crying, who informed us that her husband said she couldn't come see us anymore because it was too far to drive (20 minutes and he has to drive her) and that she had to find someone where they lived. She did. It's costing her $15 more an hour though. Nevermind that we helped her feel better than she has in years. All massage therapists are alike, you know.

Again, I say, what the fuck?

Stupid people have pushed me to the end of my rope tonight and so, the weights will sit dormant. I know, if I just went and at least started, I'd get into it and end up feeling better by the end, but...

Fuck it.

My Timex keeps on ticking all over my last good nerve.

Let me begin by saying, I love my watch. I am naked without it. It's big and silver and chunky and I can set the alarm by turning a dial around the outside of the face. Too easy. I love it.

But it is now, officially, driving me crazy.

I don't have a scale nor do I particularly want one. Those numbers don't mean a whole hell of a lot to me. I judge the way my body is changing by the way my clothes fit. Or don't fit, as the case may be. So, now my beloved watch keeps spinning around my wrist.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr........

It's a good thing, yes. It's a sign of progress in the fat girl going bye-bye front. But it's also annoying as hell!!! It also means I'm going to have to take a pin out to make the clasp band smaller. This does not bode well for my beloved watch. I have butchered more than a few watches trying to make them fit better and I'm entirely too cheap to take it to a jeweler.

I know what you're thinking.

"Good grief, Steph! Get over it! It's a watch. Take it to WalMart or something."

And you're right, but I'm not excited about standing naked in the middle of the jewelry department at WalMart. It's too close to the Junior's department and that place just pisses me off.

I was shocked to find that my legs weren't sore today. Really shocked. It's too cold to go running today, but tonight is a lift night. Arms. Look out Ahhhnold! Fat Girl comin' through!!

Beware the Fat Girl in Lime Green Spandex

Cause I'll probably be in a pissy mood. I'll be picketing outside Danskin's corporate headquarters in New York City. Let's just say I disagree with their version of extra large. I am not pretty in this shirt. Everything else I wear is this size, but I sure as hell don't look like a radioactive beached whale in any of my other clothes. Skinny, prissy, bitches.

In other "I'm not thrilled" apparel news, my favorite black pants fit me exactly. They were getting a little big. I'll blame the Steelers and my AFC Championship pigout on that one though. Excuses, excuses.

I was very good to myself today though. Went to the local park and tortured myself. They have a series of very steep steps going up the side of a hill in the park and I managed three trips (up and down being one). I did a little trail running too, but it was mostly trail walking and trail oh-my-god-this-hill-sucks bitching. I even managed some squats.

Be sure to check here tomorrow where I'll be blogging from my hospital bed after my leg amputations.

The Road to the Super Bowl is Paved with Calories

Go Steelers!!! And take my diet with you!!!!!!

I've taken to eating five or six small meals a day, making sure each one contains a lean protein, a complex carb, a fibrous carb and fruit. That goes out the window on Steeler game days though.

I am sick.

I don't care if I ever see another wing or garlic mushroom or mozzarella stick or any chips and salsa as long as I live.

The beer, however, is negotiable.

Gotta walk tonight. Oh, yeah. Gotta walk. *burp*

FAT FATTY FAT FAT!!!

Why in the hell do people automatically want to deny it when I say something about me being fat? Are they blind??? Do they think I'm blind??? Perhaps just stupid!

I am 5' 8". I weigh 240lbs. I am fat. Get over it!

If I can reclaim the word dyke, I can sure as hell reclaim fat. Chubby is something a baby is. Obese sound like a Belgian chocolate. Heavy is what my car is or something that my hippie fifth grade math teacher would have said. I'm okay with the word fat.

Really.

Maybe I'm okay with it because I'm working to change it. I'll allow that. I can see how someone not trying to change or not having success in changing would balk at the word fat. But don't patronize me. If I can say fat, so can you.

May the carnage begin!

A friend of mine suggested I start a journal, so I decided to do it in a big public way. So, even if no one else reads this, it will be a kick in the butt to write everyday or most everyday just in case someone might read it.

Yeah, so, here I am. I'm journaling/blogging because I'm fat and I'm out to do something about it. I suppose I got fat they way so many of us do. Sat around and did nothing but stuff my face. But what I can see now as I start to move again and eat well is that I was literally trying to cover myself up. I was trying to bury me underneath all this blubber. Got married way too young. A marriage that failed because, oops, gay now. And just drifted from one bad job to another and didn't give a shit about what I looked like or how I felt. I think it was some sort of guilt bullshit. I get what I deserve sort of thing.

What a bunch of crap.

So I'm moving and I'm eating better and I'm starting to feel like me again. I've been gone a long time. Way too long. I was an athlete in high school and college and let myself become a self-pitying blob. Time to change and I'll keep track of it right here.