I spent my workout pumping iron in the midst of a mental spank-fest. The scale, you see, is my friend. Not the kind of sycophantic friend that tells me look great even when I have a booger on my chin and spinach in my teeth but the kind of friend that smacks me upside the head when I mix prints with plaid and flat out tells me, "No, it's not the jeans that makes your ass look fat- it's your ass."

This morning my friend the scale reminded me that slacking-off doesn't shed pounds and brownies aren't health food. I'm grateful for the scale no matter how grim the news- it's an early warning device, letting me know what's happening before something a little less friendly chides in... the mirror.

#29 - Weigh In Regularly

Not necessarily every day but often enough to change course if what I'm doing isn't working.

#30 - I Ask Again, "Do These Pants Make My Ass Look Fat?"

No, eating too many brownies makes my ass look fat. True-dat! Note to Steve: "Cut back on the brownies."

#31 - Fast Food? Fuhgeddaboudit!

We Americans have the best fast food in the world- and that ain't just my patriotism showing. Empires and an obesity epidemic have been built on it and testify to its' world supremacy. Salute foreigners, we rock! Now I'm not saying that fast food barons of capitalism are to blame for making my ass measurable in axe handles (we all know that fast food doesn't make people fat; eating too much fast food makes people fat), what I'm saying is that for me, I'm better off staying away from it entirely.

#32 - Speed Kills Weight Loss

We all know that fast food is generally jammed full of fat, carbs, and Sodium. Wolfing it down like some kind of Velociraptor adds insult to the dietary injury. Eating slowly lets the body convince the brain that it's being fed. The result- I feel full even though I've eaten less. Who knows, it could have saved the dinosaurs.

#33 - Reducing Intake Is More Effective Than Increasing Activity In The Short Term

OK, decision time. I'm at the order counter of my favorite fast food place deciding whether or not to spring for the 59-cent super-size upgrade. What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?

Walk away! There's no way I going to do enough reps at the gym to balance out the equation. It's exponentially easier to exercise freedom of choice and avoid a 1,000 calorie mistake than try to work it off in the gym.

“Soylent Green is People! It's made of people! People!” to misquote the late, great, Phil Hartman's impression of Charlton Heston's character from Soylent Green.

What fun!

Movies and impressions aside, I've lost 95 pounds thus far along my trek through renaissance. Please understand that I don't announce my loss over and over, again and again, to impress you but rather to impress upon you that what I am experiencing is do-able by ANYONE. Five short... er... actually three short and two seemingly endless months ago, I was max-ing out the scale at our local rec. center gym. Yesterday I max-d out a couple of weight machines. Who'd a thunk it?

Me, that's who! I felt/feel the need to change. No, it was more than a feeling, it was anguish over what I had become. It was real and it was intense. I was sick inside- that figurative kind of sick inside where you actually feel physically ill- though not really 'cause you just pounded a couple of Whoppers and that would be a terrible waste and a huge mess to chunder.

In reality, I had just had enough. I considered myself a huge blob, outgrowing even my sweats, I was tired all the time, my joints ached, I was bitchy (-er), and just no fun to be around. I couldn't take part in any of the physical activities my kids were into because I just couldn't and I was embarrassed to even try.

I remember everything just coming to an emotional head during which I felt the combined pain of what I had missed and everything I would most likely miss in the future if I didn't change. The anguish was palpable and horrible. I imagined the health risks I was taking just by stuffing my fat face. I imagined the complications of diabetes, congestive heart failure, choking to death on a peanut butter and nanner sandwich while sitting on the can and gawd knows what other possibilities that lay in wait for me. These imaginings turned to pain and and I FELT it. I was dying inside.

After I got to the point where everything was just hopeless and black, I remembered that I wasn't always this way and I really didn't have to stay this way. I acknowledged that I was as I was because of choices I made, both small and big, that put me there. I also had/have friends that have turned themselves around so how hard could it be?

Freakin' tough-- at least for the first month or so. But I don't want to write about that right now.

Murder Meat! What's that all about? Well I'll tell you.

I'll say right it right now, “I love to eat animals!” Just love it. I love eating pigs and cows, chickens and turkeys, trout and salmon, and it doesn't matter how disgusting or cute they are (squid or lamb, anyone?). I am an omnivore leaning more toward the carni-end of the spectrum.

That said, I realize there are some folks out there who don't eat meat, are dead-set against it and those who do it and that is A-OK. Good for you. My stepmother is a vegan. She rocks. She's also anemic but rocks nonetheless.

I tried the vegan lifestyle for one summer during my college years. I tried a lot of stuff back then. It took a little getting used to but wasn't entirely bad. It had some interesting side effects- things like better-smelling breath (and flatulence!) and constant hunger.

When summer ended and I was no longer under vegan influence I made it a point to seek out the first fast food place I could and wolf down some serious beef and a sundry non-vegan vittles. What a mistake that was. I was sick for two days. Serious chunder.

Meat for a vegan is murder- it was killing me!

Good thing I'm a can-do kind of guy. I had to try again, and try (and succeed) I did. Soon I was knocking back steaks and ribs like they were tofu and brown rice. No problem. Going vegan was just a phase for me- something I could never do again because going carnivore after was so awful.

Until I did several years later. Guess what? Same experience, though this time I did it for a year and the murder meat this time around? BBQ ribs! So good. What a way to go.

What do I take from those experiences? I'm going to plead “moderation”. I think that most things are OK as long as they're consumed in moderation. Over the years that is the one thing I had the hardest time with and it's been my focus for the last five months.

So whether it's plants or critters, I'm eating in moderation.