OK, so 434 days ago I realized that I was a fat schleb (yeah, so I'm a little slow in the self-realization and assessment department) and needed to do something about it. More importantly, I decided (eyes front, full speed ahead, blow up the bridges as you cross, decided) to do something about it. What next?

As I mentioned oh so long ago and as one of my 50 Tips, deciding to do something and being completely and passionately committed to the decision is probably the most important thing to do when going about something like changing your life. The thing is, a guy can also become the epitome of "all revved up with no place to go".

What I had and still have are a few friends who have accomplished many of the same things I want for myself. Pertinent to my topic here, they've lost considerable amounts of weight and have kept it off. Doh! Or should I have said, "Yahtzee!"? Well, whatever should be said when providence lays the blueprint for your success right in front of your face would have been appropriate, I'm sure. Because, like a bonehead at the SAT's, all I had to do next was copy the smartest people in the room.

But not exactly.

I think my most endearing quality, the subject of the epitaph that will be scratched onto the used grocery bag that will ultimately entomb my ashes, or what would have been my middle name had my parents only known, and the reason I sometimes end up doing things the hard way, is that I'm a cheap bastard. My friends had all joined weight loss programs- which worked tremendously. They lost weight, they're keeping it off, they spent some money doing it, and they totally rock. I decided that, while I may not rock (or spend money to rock), I would copy them- mimic their efforts and reap similar benefits.

That's where the "donkey" part (title of this post) comes in. While all they had to do was follow a predetermined plan and eat predetermined, prepackaged foods, I had to plow my own path and develop my own dietary regimen based on researching their program (and others) and work my ass off... to literally work off a little of my ass.

I sometimes wonder If I would have been better off spending the money.

What a month this is! Hitting a weight loss goal, becoming a year older, and the coolest thing of all- celebrating twenty (20) years of matrimony.

That's right, this Wednesday my wife will have completed twenty years of a life sentence that can be best described as "cruel and unusual" while I on the other hand will mark the twentieth installment of an eternal wedded bliss annuity.

It truly has been wonderful; I have an awesome wife and great kids and all are inspiring, challenging, and motivating. Best of all, they don't seem to mind my presence all that much. Good times.

I really don't have to look very far for reasons to work towards being healthy. There are way too many things that I don't want to miss due to illness or disability; too many things I want to see my kids accomplish, memories to create, aisles to walk, etc.

It's not all selfishness. I want to be there to help them meet the challenges they'll face in life- as a hand, a shoulder, a resource.

I'd be hard-pressed to do much of that from hospital furniture or an urn on the mantle.

That's much of why I want to improve myself physically. I also want to improve the other aspects of what constitutes a "Steve" er, I mean, me.

I hereby dedicate this next year to not only losing another 40 pounds but improving myself in other ways as well. I'll focus on being a better husband, father, friend, and all around dude.

I got so many reasons WHY, HOW is going to be really cool. Stay tuned.

Today, my bride and I will head off for a little vacation. We've farmed the kids out to a few friends so it's just us- off for a little beach and sun not unlike we did two decades ago.

In the meanwhile, don't eat this: Men's Health Magazine - Worst Food in America.

The gym experience bordered on aggravating this morning. The exernazi had her class packed into the tiny weight-room and kitten-herded them through the stations pachinko-style. It was a weird-assed frenzy of getting in one another's way until I relented and walked out. I did get thirty minutes in at my core exercises and no one got hurt- so it's all good. I guess I was becoming a little spoiled by the solitude I've enjoyed at the gym for so long. Here's my "relevant" tip:

#23 - Be My Own Coach/Trainer

A hired professional trainer will stay for as long as I'm willing to pay them; my carcass is around for a mortal eternity. Paying some pro to kick my carcass around forever just isn't appealing.

#24 - Motivation Is An Internal Organ

Inspiration can come from anywhere but lasting motivation comes from within. The cool thing is that the "motivation organ" can be conditioned to function in the absence of inspiration.

#25 - Why Ask Why?

When I first started this journey almost a year ago, I considered myself child-like in knowledge and ability. I really didn't know how I was going to "fix" myself, I only knew that I had to do something. I had plenty of reasons why I had to make a change and that was enough to get me off my can and do something. Now that I'm a toddler (knowledge-wise) and have some positive experience behind me I realize that the reasons why I do what I do are a heck of a lot more powerful than the way I am doing what I'm doing. Also, when I first started out, a lot of what I did to drop weight I really didn't fully understand and had to just do it because my resources said it was the right thing to do.

I now understand a little more about what works for me and what doesn't. You might say that I've matured a little, or you might say I'm full of crap. Either way, I very close to my goal both in time and achievement and am looking forward to maturing into a know-it-all teenager.

My goal date is growing ever nearer and I'm getting a little antsy. Once the days-left hit double digits the old urgency gene kicks in. I've been at this goal a while and I've experienced a moderate amount of success- so I think it's time to really apply what I've learned along the way and kick things up a notch or so.

So for the last fifty or so days I'm going to apply fifty or things each and every day to ensure that my goal of losing 150 pounds before my birthday becomes reality. I even had what I thought was a clever name for it. Alas, my nose is again rubbed in the steaming pile of fact that I haven't an original thought in my head. It seems that at least some variation of "50 Ways I'm Losing My Blubber" has been done a bazillion times. So, no names just fifty or so little things that have made a big difference in shrinking my body and improving my health posted right here between no and my birthday- a very short 53 days from today.

Subscribe if you like- I'd hate for you to miss a single one.

Once upon a time, COMFORT and HABIT carried me through the day. I never wanted to be hot or cold, hungry or stuffed; I wanted to be JUST RIGHT. Now, I'm no Goldilocks and there may be nothing wrong with being comfortably just right- only the way I went about it.

When the room was too cold, I turned up the thermostat. Too hot and down it went. When I was hungry I ate, probably a little too much. When I was over-stuffed I would try to counteract the symptoms with Pepto-bismol or (how do you spell relief?) Rolaids. Comfort relied on EXTERNAL stimuli.

My downfall was a cataclysmic “domino effect” through over-compensation. All the while I was only seeking comfort and never finding it, only experiencing a series of REVERSALS.

Guess what? I got to the point where I was consistently uncomfortable INTERNALLY. Relying on external sources for comfort, it seems, is a short-term fix with one hell of a list of side effects. My dependence was debilitating and acclimating to new situations required increasingly higher levels of countering stimulus. Heavier coats when it was cold and more food when I was hungry were just a few examples. I was also going through the antacid like it was candy and candy like it was, well, candy.

Ultimately I realized that comfort can be a dangerous thing. It breeds complacency and stagnation. It hinders physical, personal and intellectual growth. It means my Bubbie (I called her G-ma, what I deemed her gangsta name) was indeed a wise woman. I used to think she was just grouchy.

Her house was always kind of cold. Not really warm enough to be cool, but almost-see-your-breath-cold. I (being comfort-driven) made it a point to let her know about it.

“If you're cold do the dishes, “ she'd growl.

I did a lot of dishes at G-ma's house.

And you know what? I warmed up. Not just because of the blister-causing water temperature that G-ma insisted on, but because I was actively doing something. After the dishes were done there were plenty of other chores that made her house feel quite warm. Did her house actually warm up? Of course not, G-ma wouldn't have that. The truth is, I warmed up. I changed INTERNALLY.

Personal improvement requires effective internal change. Effective internal change requires movement. Without movement, the best I can hope for is temporary comfort.

I no longer consider myself a creature of comfort and habit. I constantly try to run just a little farther, lift a little more weight, do more reps, alternate my bleacher climbs, and generally make myself uncomfortable.

The payoff has been worth the discomfort. A month or so ago, I went through all my old (outgrown) clothes and separated them into stacks based on size. I have stacks that go back twenty years. The cool thing is that I've just moved on to another stack, which I think is significant considering that I've also been retiring clothes that have become too large for my diminishing frame.

My clothes are probably way out of style though- circa 1995, but hey, I'm getting thinner and that never goes out of style.

I like people, I really do. Not a lot- but somewhat. It's definitely not a love thing. More a nod and a wave kind of “I'd help you if you need it but probably not take a bullet for you” thing with humanity as a whole.

Let me try that again.

I appreciate people.

I appreciate their differences both physically and in personality; all sizes, shapes, kindreds, and tongues. I appreciate that people are individuals who sometimes want (sometimes desperately) to be identified as belonging to some subset of humanity. Good for them. I recognize and appreciate that. I also appreciate their desire for personal vindication through incessant recruitment for their subset. Their belief that my joining them will somehow validate their choice- that in saving me, they are justified in what they do- no matter how ridiculous their current fad may be.

I'm most definitely not saying that what everyone else is into at the moment is ridiculous, nor am I saying that what I'm into isn't. I am a remarkably ridiculous individual, a disappointment to my mother, and a mysterious enigma to those who have breached the perimeter of my meager influence. I'm most surely no prize and my personal esteem is without measure- that's right, nothing.

But I'm good with all that because there is nowhere to go but up, nothing to do but improve, and little to say but, “Thanks, but no thanks!” when it comes to invitations designed to miraculously change my life.

All the programs, classes, diets, trainers, pills, powders, and miscellaneous voodoo are just not for me. I'm about transformation; lasting change, and permanent modification. In my mind, all the quick-fixes are short term.

There is an aerobics class that meets right next door to the weight room. It's an enthusiastically loud group with an outrageously loud teacher who constantly yells and screams her students through their workout. “Good for her,” I say. “Good for them,” I say. “Join us,” they say. “Thanks but no thanks,” says I.

I can only imagine what relief I would feel once the class was over and the teacher was no longer around to scream at me. It would be like a vacation- which means that the class would be exactly the opposite; work under a screaming boss. Ugh!

But it might work, I might get into better shape- at least while I am in class. Outside of class my motivator would not exist, and without her I'd probably slack off.

What I'm getting at here is that, in my mind, it's up to ME to do the screaming and yelling. It's up to me to motivate myself through this renaissance. It's up to me because I'm the only one who is always going to be there throughout the entire process and I'm the only one who is going to stick around long enough to enjoy the results.

As of this morning I've lost 89 pounds since May. Me. I did this. Not a pill, a trainer, or a program. Me. I'm confident that if I stay my course I will reach my goal. Would someone else's fad diet, trainer, or pill help me? Possibly, but I think I'll pass. What I'm doing is working for me- any distraction will probably slow me down.

Maybe you should be doing what I'm doing. Hey, I can get you started.

Gotcha! You do whatever you want. I appreciate your motivations. I appreciate your individuality. Hell, I might even like you...

But let's keep it casual. You do your thing and I'll do mine.