Johnny99

Greetings and salutations my friends and fat followers! I am contacting you today from the other side. No, I am not dead and this is not a creepy seance. I'm talking about the other side of 200 pounds. That's right baby. I finally cracked the elusive 200 number. Mark the date and time fat fans, for this is the first time since the mid 80's that I have had a 1 in front of my weight. This is BIG news indeed. I finally feel like I am accomplishing something.
 
You may ask "What The H, Johnny. You've lost 56 pounds and you don't fell like you accomplished anything? You've lost half of a person, why the lack of satisfaction?"
 
Here's why. When you're a scale bustin fatass as I was in April, losing a few pounds here or there is no big deal. My weight used to fluctuate five pounds on any given week depending on how many buffets I hit. Lose 10 pounds. So what. Lose 20 pounds. I'll hardly notice. 30 pounds. That's something, but I was still in the "Biggun" category. Forty pounds ... 50 pounds, great. But what really makes me feel like I'm winning is that 1. Normal people have a 1 in front of their weight. That's the answer. I am approaching NORMAL. Soon to be average. Now THAT means something!
 
As I previously alluded, I have not had that 1 in front of my weight since the mid 80's. The exact date I busted the deuce mark is not clear to me. Matter of fact, the whole decade is not too clear to me. I was awash in self indulgence. My never ending search for a good time is what got me started on this path to bodily destruction. But that's another story for a different time. So let's use these dates. I remember going on some type of diet and getting down to around 165 pounds. I had a picture taken at this time leaning on a new Delorean. That makes it 1982. Obviously that diet didn't take. It took me a few years to work up the weight ladder. I'm pretty sure it was a chicken wing at a Super Bowl 19 party that pushed me over. That would make it 1985.
 
1985 - It was a very good year. (I think.) Reagan was still president. Gas was $1.09 a gallon and it only cost $3 to see a movie. Michael Jordon was just a pup and the Bears were stocked with now legendary names like, Fridge, Hamp, Mongo, Mama's Boy and the Punky QB. Things were bouncing back from the dog days of Jimmy Carter and 22% interest rates. There was reason to celebrate. And celebrate I did. Nightly. And usually to excess. I was living the single life. Fast money, fast cars and fast women. Unfortunately, fast food was a daily staple. My bodily empire was beginning to fall and I didn't heed the warnings. The 2 came a lot easier on the way up then the 1 did on the way down.
 
Let's leave the maudlin memories behind. It's a new day, a new age and a new Johnny. I have lost about 56 pounds since April 9. My weekly weight loss is still averaging about 1.5 pounds per week. I know it's going to get slower as my under metabolized body adjusts to my lower calorie intake. But if I could average 1.25 pounds per week, I will hit hit my goal by March. I planned on this taking one full year. I am on schedule. But just think. What if I kept that Delorean? Maybe I could have got up to 88 miles per hour and zapped my way back to 1982. If only I knew then what I know now.
So Long for now. We'll talk soon.
 
Johnny T.

Yup. I'm stuck. Not the lap band "I need to toss my cookies" stuck. Weight stuck. I have reached a weight number that I cannot seem to bust through. If you look this phenonenom up in the FatAss World Dictionary, Volume 17, Second Edition, you will find that this is called a plateau.
 
A plateau for the over active metabolism crowd, is a nice place. The top of a mountain perhaps. Where you can gaze at beautiful vistas and see for miles. A plateau for the overly girthed is quite another matter. It's a tortuous place that plays with your emotions. It's a place that reminds you that your journey ain't easy. In fact, it reminds you that the road in front of you is only going to get harder. Moving off this plateau is metabolism over mind. Sometimes it's just out of your control. It's part of the process. I don't plan on pitching my tent and staying on this plateau. I plan on moving on as fast as possible. So I'll soldier on. Head down, focused on the goal.
 
Being stuck is about as frustrated as you can get in a weight loss campaign. Here you are doing everything right. Following the same plan that has worked for you for months with good results. Only to get kicked in the nuts with your daily or weekly scale visit. In my case, it's daily. I weigh my self every morning. For the last 10 days or so, my weight has fluctuated back and forth about a pound and a half either way. A couple days ago, I hit the low end and I thought "this is it. I'm gonna break this mark tomorrow." Only when tomorrow came, I bounced back up a pound. ARRGHHH! If my ultra high tech FitBit scale didn't cost so much, I would have flung it out the window. So I kicked it. (Note to self: Kicking your scale hurts and can only do bodily damage. Please refrain from hostile acts of aggression towards said device in the future. Resort to colorful language instead.)
 
 
This is also doubly frustrating for me. Why? Because my low weight right now is 200.4 pounds. I have been waiting to get that 1 in front of my weight number. I'm as excited as a kid on Christmas eve to hit that mark. Come to think of it, I'm probably more excited. Hell, a kid only has to wait one year for Christmas. I haven't had a 1 in front of my weight since ... well, I know I still had a record player. I'll have to do some research on this. Suffice to say, it's been a LONG friggin time. So here I sit ... on the door step of a personal milestone. I can only hope that I will break through this barrier by next Monday. If you want to be there for the breaking news. Stand outside my bathroom window around 6:30 a.m. If you don't see a FitBit scale flying through the glass, you know I made it. If not, DUCK!
 
I will report back from the other side of 2.
 
Johnny

Yup. I'm stuck. Not the lap band "I need to toss my cookies" stuck. Weight stuck. I have reached a weight number that I cannot seem to bust through. If you look this phenonenom up in the FatAss World Dictionary, Volume 17, Second Edition, you will find that this is called a plateau.
 
A plateau for the over active metabolism crowd, is a nice place. The top of a mountain perhaps. Where you can gaze at beautiful vistas and see for miles. A plateau for the overly girthed is quite another matter. It's a tortuous place that plays with your emotions. It's a place that reminds you that your journey ain't easy. In fact, it reminds you that the road in front of you is only going to get harder. Moving off this plateau is metabolism over mind. Sometimes it's just out of your control. It's part of the process. I don't plan on pitching my tent and staying on this plateau. I plan on moving on as fast as possible. So I'll soldier on. Head down, focused on the goal.
 
Being stuck is about as frustrated as you can get in a weight loss campaign. Here you are doing everything right. Following the same plan that has worked for you for months with good results. Only to get kicked in the nuts with your daily or weekly scale visit. In my case, it's daily. I weigh my self every morning. For the last 10 days or so, my weight has fluctuated back and forth about a pound and a half either way. A couple days ago, I hit the low end and I thought "this is it. I'm gonna break this mark tomorrow." Only when tomorrow came, I bounced back up a pound. ARRGHHH! If my ultra high tech FitBit scale didn't cost so much, I would have flung it out the window. So I kicked it. (Note to self: Kicking your scale hurts and can only do bodily damage. Please refrain from hostile acts of aggression towards said device in the future. Resort to colorful language instead.)
 
 
This is also doubly frustrating for me. Why? Because my low weight right now is 200.4 pounds. I have been waiting to get that 1 in front of my weight number. I'm as excited as a kid on Christmas eve to hit that mark. Come to think of it, I'm probably more excited. Hell, a kid only has to wait one year for Christmas. I haven't had a 1 in front of my weight since ... well, I know I still had a record player. I'll have to do some research on this. Suffice to say, it's been a LONG friggin time. So here I sit ... on the door step of a personal milestone. I can only hope that I will break through this barrier by next Monday. If you want to be there for the breaking news. Stand outside my bathroom window around 6:30 a.m. If you don't see a FitBit scale flying through the glass, you know I made it. If not, DUCK!
 
I will report back from the other side of 2.
 
Johnny

Hi ya'll!
 
 
I'm fresh off a 4 day weekend and wanted to get you the up to the minute Johnny news. C'mon, be honest.... how many of you just can't wait for your fanatical fat fix? I thought so. This blog is like an auto race. Most of the spectators just come for the crashes. At the very least, I am a cheap version of a reality show. Your own personal rendition of Biggest Loser. Or Survivor. Hey, I got an idea ... What if we combine both of those shows? Let's strand a bunch of fat asses in the middle of no where with no food and the potty mouthed TV chef Paula Dean. We'll call it Fattasy Island. My bet, 7 contestants arrive, only 5 leave. The other 2 will be enjoyed with a homemade tropical marinade. No doubt this will be a huge hit.
 
On to the news.
 
Last Monday I went for monthly follow up visit at the center for Fat-ass-i-ness. As reported last week, I officially hit the 50 pound loss point. Yippee! I have to tell you that I am starting to look and feel a little out of place in the waiting area. I am no longer the short, overly swelled man that enjoyed the extra comfort of the fat ass chairs. I am now just a short, plump man that looks like a little kid sitting in a big chair. Add the fact that I usually wear a suit and tie on Mondays. The waiting wobblers probably think I'm some kind of creepy sales person waiting to show Dr. X my new drugs. But sitting and waiting is part of my commitment. It is part of my rehab. Yup. Rehab. Because that's really what this is. Fataholic's Anonymous. My name is Johnny ... and I'm a fataholic.
Anyone that reads this, and definitely anyone that tries this, must realize what a significant weight loss project really is. It's a full time commitment to food sobriety. Without full dedication to the cause, you are doomed to fail. "Just one Oreo" can be as catastrophic to a fataholic as "just one beer" to the alcoholic. That first step backwards can lead to a tumble. The end of the binge is just as devastating for both. Self consciousness, loss, shame, failure. All the same buzz words. The alcoholic may end his bender in a a tavern with a shot and a beer in the wee hours of the morning. The fataholic may end up in a corner with a jumbo bag of Dorito's and jar of salsa. Self inflicted wounds for both.
 
The fataholic requires guidance just like his counterpart. We get all the information we need to succeed from our nutritionists, shrinks and doctors. But at the end of the day, it is still on you to watch and motivate yourself. You have to make constant decisions to succeed. Food is not only required to live,it is part of our culture. Think about it. Just about every social gathering includes food. A nice night out with your better half probably includes dinner. A business lunch includes food. Weddings, birthday parties, anniversaries, bar mitzvahs ... you name a social gathering and there will be food. And plenty of it.
 
How about our addiction to Fat Ass TV? There are several channels that air nothing but food shows 24/7. Then you have Masterchef, Iron Chef,Top Chef and a myriad of other kitchen shows. There is a guy that drives around the country and pigs out at out of the way diners. There are guys that fix broken restaurants and a guy that spies on various eatery's employees. If has to do with food, there is a TV show about it. And these chefs / stars get paid humongous salaries for this! I'm really in the wrong business.
 
It's easy to see how someone can lose sight of a healthy lifestyle and fall in to the grips of fatness in our country today. Once you get there, going back is b***h. It's a challenge every minute to stay on your selected program. It's a good thing I have my sober coaches to guide me ... good ol' Al C. Hall and his cousin Vinny Vino.
 
See you soon..
Johnny
 
PS I'm at a little plateau here. The weight loss is slowing down to around a pound per week. I'm going to have to change something up here next week

Hi ya'll!
 
 
I'm fresh off a 4 day weekend and wanted to get you the up to the minute Johnny news. C'mon, be honest.... how many of you just can't wait for your fanatical fat fix? I thought so. This blog is like an auto race. Most of the spectators just come for the crashes. At the very least, I am a cheap version of a reality show. Your own personal rendition of Biggest Loser. Or Survivor. Hey, I got an idea ... What if we combine both of those shows? Let's strand a bunch of fat asses in the middle of no where with no food and the potty mouthed TV chef Paula Dean. We'll call it Fattasy Island. My bet, 7 contestants arrive, only 5 leave. The other 2 will be enjoyed with a homemade tropical marinade. No doubt this will be a huge hit.
 
On to the news.
 
Last Monday I went for monthly follow up visit at the center for Fat-ass-i-ness. As reported last week, I officially hit the 50 pound loss point. Yippee! I have to tell you that I am starting to look and feel a little out of place in the waiting area. I am no longer the short, overly swelled man that enjoyed the extra comfort of the fat ass chairs. I am now just a short, plump man that looks like a little kid sitting in a big chair. Add the fact that I usually wear a suit and tie on Mondays. The waiting wobblers probably think I'm some kind of creepy sales person waiting to show Dr. X my new drugs. But sitting and waiting is part of my commitment. It is part of my rehab. Yup. Rehab. Because that's really what this is. Fataholic's Anonymous. My name is Johnny ... and I'm a fataholic.
Anyone that reads this, and definitely anyone that tries this, must realize what a significant weight loss project really is. It's a full time commitment to food sobriety. Without full dedication to the cause, you are doomed to fail. "Just one Oreo" can be as catastrophic to a fataholic as "just one beer" to the alcoholic. That first step backwards can lead to a tumble. The end of the binge is just as devastating for both. Self consciousness, loss, shame, failure. All the same buzz words. The alcoholic may end his bender in a a tavern with a shot and a beer in the wee hours of the morning. The fataholic may end up in a corner with a jumbo bag of Dorito's and jar of salsa. Self inflicted wounds for both.
 
The fataholic requires guidance just like his counterpart. We get all the information we need to succeed from our nutritionists, shrinks and doctors. But at the end of the day, it is still on you to watch and motivate yourself. You have to make constant decisions to succeed. Food is not only required to live,it is part of our culture. Think about it. Just about every social gathering includes food. A nice night out with your better half probably includes dinner. A business lunch includes food. Weddings, birthday parties, anniversaries, bar mitzvahs ... you name a social gathering and there will be food. And plenty of it.
 
How about our addiction to Fat Ass TV? There are several channels that air nothing but food shows 24/7. Then you have Masterchef, Iron Chef,Top Chef and a myriad of other kitchen shows. There is a guy that drives around the country and pigs out at out of the way diners. There are guys that fix broken restaurants and a guy that spies on various eatery's employees. If has to do with food, there is a TV show about it. And these chefs / stars get paid humongous salaries for this! I'm really in the wrong business.
 
It's easy to see how someone can lose sight of a healthy lifestyle and fall in to the grips of fatness in our country today. Once you get there, going back is b***h. It's a challenge every minute to stay on your selected program. It's a good thing I have my sober coaches to guide me ... good ol' Al C. Hall and his cousin Vinny Vino.
 
See you soon..
Johnny
 
PS I'm at a little plateau here. The weight loss is slowing down to around a pound per week. I'm going to have to change something up here next week

Hi ya'll!
 
 
I'm fresh off a 4 day weekend and wanted to get you the up to the minute Johnny news. C'mon, be honest.... how many of you just can't wait for your fanatical fat fix? I thought so. This blog is like an auto race. Most of the spectators just come for the crashes. At the very least, I am a cheap version of a reality show. Your own personal rendition of Biggest Loser. Or Survivor. Hey, I got an idea ... What if we combine both of those shows? Let's strand a bunch of fat asses in the middle of no where with no food and the potty mouthed TV chef Paula Dean. We'll call it Fattasy Island. My bet, 7 contestants arrive, only 5 leave. The other 2 will be enjoyed with a homemade tropical marinade. No doubt this will be a huge hit.
 
On to the news.
 
Last Monday I went for monthly follow up visit at the center for Fat-ass-i-ness. As reported last week, I officially hit the 50 pound loss point. Yippee! I have to tell you that I am starting to look and feel a little out of place in the waiting area. I am no longer the short, overly swelled man that enjoyed the extra comfort of the fat ass chairs. I am now just a short, plump man that looks like a little kid sitting in a big chair. Add the fact that I usually wear a suit and tie on Mondays. The waiting wobblers probably think I'm some kind of creepy sales person waiting to show Dr. X my new drugs. But sitting and waiting is part of my commitment. It is part of my rehab. Yup. Rehab. Because that's really what this is. Fataholic's Anonymous. My name is Johnny ... and I'm a fataholic.
Anyone that reads this, and definitely anyone that tries this, must realize what a significant weight loss project really is. It's a full time commitment to food sobriety. Without full dedication to the cause, you are doomed to fail. "Just one Oreo" can be as catastrophic to a fataholic as "just one beer" to the alcoholic. That first step backwards can lead to a tumble. The end of the binge is just as devastating for both. Self consciousness, loss, shame, failure. All the same buzz words. The alcoholic may end his bender in a a tavern with a shot and a beer in the wee hours of the morning. The fataholic may end up in a corner with a jumbo bag of Dorito's and jar of salsa. Self inflicted wounds for both.
 
The fataholic requires guidance just like his counterpart. We get all the information we need to succeed from our nutritionists, shrinks and doctors. But at the end of the day, it is still on you to watch and motivate yourself. You have to make constant decisions to succeed. Food is not only required to live,it is part of our culture. Think about it. Just about every social gathering includes food. A nice night out with your better half probably includes dinner. A business lunch includes food. Weddings, birthday parties, anniversaries, bar mitzvahs ... you name a social gathering and there will be food. And plenty of it.
 
How about our addiction to Fat Ass TV? There are several channels that air nothing but food shows 24/7. Then you have Masterchef, Iron Chef,Top Chef and a myriad of other kitchen shows. There is a guy that drives around the country and pigs out at out of the way diners. There are guys that fix broken restaurants and a guy that spies on various eatery's employees. If has to do with food, there is a TV show about it. And these chefs / stars get paid humongous salaries for this! I'm really in the wrong business.
 
It's easy to see how someone can lose sight of a healthy lifestyle and fall in to the grips of fatness in our country today. Once you get there, going back is b***h. It's a challenge every minute to stay on your selected program. It's a good thing I have my sober coaches to guide me ... good ol' Al C. Hall and his cousin Vinny Vino.
 
See you soon..
Johnny
 
PS I'm at a little plateau here. The weight loss is slowing down to around a pound per week. I'm going to have to change something up here next week

Hi ya'll!
 
 
I'm fresh off a 4 day weekend and wanted to get you the up to the minute Johnny news. C'mon, be honest.... how many of you just can't wait for your fanatical fat fix? I thought so. This blog is like an auto race. Most of the spectators just come for the crashes. At the very least, I am a cheap version of a reality show. Your own personal rendition of Biggest Loser. Or Survivor. Hey, I got an idea ... What if we combine both of those shows? Let's strand a bunch of fat asses in the middle of no where with no food and the potty mouthed TV chef Paula Dean. We'll call it Fattasy Island. My bet, 7 contestants arrive, only 5 leave. The other 2 will be enjoyed with a homemade tropical marinade. No doubt this will be a huge hit.
 
On to the news.
 
Last Monday I went for monthly follow up visit at the center for Fat-ass-i-ness. As reported last week, I officially hit the 50 pound loss point. Yippee! I have to tell you that I am starting to look and feel a little out of place in the waiting area. I am no longer the short, overly swelled man that enjoyed the extra comfort of the fat ass chairs. I am now just a short, plump man that looks like a little kid sitting in a big chair. Add the fact that I usually wear a suit and tie on Mondays. The waiting wobblers probably think I'm some kind of creepy sales person waiting to show Dr. X my new drugs. But sitting and waiting is part of my commitment. It is part of my rehab. Yup. Rehab. Because that's really what this is. Fataholic's Anonymous. My name is Johnny ... and I'm a fataholic.
Anyone that reads this, and definitely anyone that tries this, must realize what a significant weight loss project really is. It's a full time commitment to food sobriety. Without full dedication to the cause, you are doomed to fail. "Just one Oreo" can be as catastrophic to a fataholic as "just one beer" to the alcoholic. That first step backwards can lead to a tumble. The end of the binge is just as devastating for both. Self consciousness, loss, shame, failure. All the same buzz words. The alcoholic may end his bender in a a tavern with a shot and a beer in the wee hours of the morning. The fataholic may end up in a corner with a jumbo bag of Dorito's and jar of salsa. Self inflicted wounds for both.
 
The fataholic requires guidance just like his counterpart. We get all the information we need to succeed from our nutritionists, shrinks and doctors. But at the end of the day, it is still on you to watch and motivate yourself. You have to make constant decisions to succeed. Food is not only required to live,it is part of our culture. Think about it. Just about every social gathering includes food. A nice night out with your better half probably includes dinner. A business lunch includes food. Weddings, birthday parties, anniversaries, bar mitzvahs ... you name a social gathering and there will be food. And plenty of it.
 
How about our addiction to Fat Ass TV? There are several channels that air nothing but food shows 24/7. Then you have Masterchef, Iron Chef,Top Chef and a myriad of other kitchen shows. There is a guy that drives around the country and pigs out at out of the way diners. There are guys that fix broken restaurants and a guy that spies on various eatery's employees. If has to do with food, there is a TV show about it. And these chefs / stars get paid humongous salaries for this! I'm really in the wrong business.
 
It's easy to see how someone can lose sight of a healthy lifestyle and fall in to the grips of fatness in our country today. Once you get there, going back is b***h. It's a challenge every minute to stay on your selected program. It's a good thing I have my sober coaches to guide me ... good ol' Al C. Hall and his cousin Vinny Vino.
 
See you soon..
Johnny
 
PS I'm at a little plateau here. The weight loss is slowing down to around a pound per week. I'm going to have to change something up here next week

Hi ya'll!
 
 
I'm fresh off a 4 day weekend and wanted to get you the up to the minute Johnny news. C'mon, be honest.... how many of you just can't wait for your fanatical fat fix? I thought so. This blog is like an auto race. Most of the spectators just come for the crashes. At the very least, I am a cheap version of a reality show. Your own personal rendition of Biggest Loser. Or Survivor. Hey, I got an idea ... What if we combine both of those shows? Let's strand a bunch of fat asses in the middle of no where with no food and the potty mouthed TV chef Paula Dean. We'll call it Fattasy Island. My bet, 7 contestants arrive, only 5 leave. The other 2 will be enjoyed with a homemade tropical marinade. No doubt this will be a huge hit.
 
On to the news.
 
Last Monday I went for monthly follow up visit at the center for Fat-ass-i-ness. As reported last week, I officially hit the 50 pound loss point. Yippee! I have to tell you that I am starting to look and feel a little out of place in the waiting area. I am no longer the short, overly swelled man that enjoyed the extra comfort of the fat ass chairs. I am now just a short, plump man that looks like a little kid sitting in a big chair. Add the fact that I usually wear a suit and tie on Mondays. The waiting wobblers probably think I'm some kind of creepy sales person waiting to show Dr. X my new drugs. But sitting and waiting is part of my commitment. It is part of my rehab. Yup. Rehab. Because that's really what this is. Fataholic's Anonymous. My name is Johnny ... and I'm a fataholic.
Anyone that reads this, and definitely anyone that tries this, must realize what a significant weight loss project really is. It's a full time commitment to food sobriety. Without full dedication to the cause, you are doomed to fail. "Just one Oreo" can be as catastrophic to a fataholic as "just one beer" to the alcoholic. That first step backwards can lead to a tumble. The end of the binge is just as devastating for both. Self consciousness, loss, shame, failure. All the same buzz words. The alcoholic may end his bender in a a tavern with a shot and a beer in the wee hours of the morning. The fataholic may end up in a corner with a jumbo bag of Dorito's and jar of salsa. Self inflicted wounds for both.
 
The fataholic requires guidance just like his counterpart. We get all the information we need to succeed from our nutritionists, shrinks and doctors. But at the end of the day, it is still on you to watch and motivate yourself. You have to make constant decisions to succeed. Food is not only required to live,it is part of our culture. Think about it. Just about every social gathering includes food. A nice night out with your better half probably includes dinner. A business lunch includes food. Weddings, birthday parties, anniversaries, bar mitzvahs ... you name a social gathering and there will be food. And plenty of it.
 
How about our addiction to Fat Ass TV? There are several channels that air nothing but food shows 24/7. Then you have Masterchef, Iron Chef,Top Chef and a myriad of other kitchen shows. There is a guy that drives around the country and pigs out at out of the way diners. There are guys that fix broken restaurants and a guy that spies on various eatery's employees. If has to do with food, there is a TV show about it. And these chefs / stars get paid humongous salaries for this! I'm really in the wrong business.
 
It's easy to see how someone can lose sight of a healthy lifestyle and fall in to the grips of fatness in our country today. Once you get there, going back is b***h. It's a challenge every minute to stay on your selected program. It's a good thing I have my sober coaches to guide me ... good ol' Al C. Hall and his cousin Vinny Vino.
 
See you soon..
Johnny
 
PS I'm at a little plateau here. The weight loss is slowing down to around a pound per week. I'm going to have to change something up here next week

It's official!
 
 
 
I saw Dr. X on Monday for my monthly follow up. I have hit the the 50 pound loss mark. If you really think about it ... that's a whole big bucket of blubber. Fifty pounds is definitely life changing. Just about every aspect of my life has changed. My complete wardrobe (all three levels) are obsolete. My sleep habits have changed ... no more snoring. My exercise went from zero to above moderate. My eating habits have greatly changed for the better. My overall activity level has improved. My blood pressure went down and my resting heart rate is at the GOOD level. I'm only a couple of beats per minute over EXCELLENT and not far from ATHLETE. That's a hoot! So you can probably say that I had a complete makeover. Both in outside appearance and inside my head. It's the head part that's the hardest to change. I will have to struggle with this for the rest of my life. If I ever give in, it'll be back to the level 3 wardbrobe and I can't afford that.
 
Well I think it's time to get a real grip on what 50 pounds of fat ass real is. We reviewed it at the 40 level and that was kinda fun. And very eye opening. So let's look at fifty.
 
1) $200 in quarters ( that would be 800 coins) weighs fifty pounds. This begs the question: What would you rather have? 200 bucks or my ass full of quarters?
 
2) An average 7 year old child weighs fifty pounds. My kid is growing up right before my eyes. Remember? He was only 3 at the 40 pound level
 
3) A bale of hay weighs 50 pounds. My ass weighed about 10 bushells full.
 
4) A baby pygmy hippo weighs 50 pounds. We can all think of something wittty to say here. Let's leave at this: A few months ago, hanging out with me would be like hanging out with 5 baby hippos. Less the cuteness.
 
5) 2 big sacks of potatos weigh fifty pounds. Formerly easily consumed by me either fried, baked, sauteed, mashed, boiled. It didn't matter. Also, A potato is the Father of the Chip. Forever whorshipped.
 
6) A medium pit bull terrier. 50 pounds of sheer muscle. Can't say that about 50 pounds of ass.
 
7) 5 bowling balls. Yep. Strap 'em on and go up and down the stairs a few times.
 
It never gets old! If we had time, I would go around the house and weigh all the appliances. I know my ass was at least as heavy as your average microwave oven. Or maybe even your refrigerator. It was big and it was heavy. Now, not so much. Yes, I am still of large ass. But not of fat ass. Hopefully soon, I will be of normal ass. Fret not my friends, I will always be YOUR horse's ass.
 
Hasta la vista, baby!
 
Johnny!
 
P.S. I'm in the game for real now. Dr. X gave me another full c.c. in the band. I'm at 35% restriction. I will report any changes soon

It's official!
 
 
 
I saw Dr. X on Monday for my monthly follow up. I have hit the the 50 pound loss mark. If you really think about it ... that's a whole big bucket of blubber. Fifty pounds is definitely life changing. Just about every aspect of my life has changed. My complete wardrobe (all three levels) are obsolete. My sleep habits have changed ... no more snoring. My exercise went from zero to above moderate. My eating habits have greatly changed for the better. My overall activity level has improved. My blood pressure went down and my resting heart rate is at the GOOD level. I'm only a couple of beats per minute over EXCELLENT and not far from ATHLETE. That's a hoot! So you can probably say that I had a complete makeover. Both in outside appearance and inside my head. It's the head part that's the hardest to change. I will have to struggle with this for the rest of my life. If I ever give in, it'll be back to the level 3 wardbrobe and I can't afford that.
 
Well I think it's time to get a real grip on what 50 pounds of fat ass real is. We reviewed it at the 40 level and that was kinda fun. And very eye opening. So let's look at fifty.
 
1) $200 in quarters ( that would be 800 coins) weighs fifty pounds. This begs the question: What would you rather have? 200 bucks or my ass full of quarters?
 
2) An average 7 year old child weighs fifty pounds. My kid is growing up right before my eyes. Remember? He was only 3 at the 40 pound level
 
3) A bale of hay weighs 50 pounds. My ass weighed about 10 bushells full.
 
4) A baby pygmy hippo weighs 50 pounds. We can all think of something wittty to say here. Let's leave at this: A few months ago, hanging out with me would be like hanging out with 5 baby hippos. Less the cuteness.
 
5) 2 big sacks of potatos weigh fifty pounds. Formerly easily consumed by me either fried, baked, sauteed, mashed, boiled. It didn't matter. Also, A potato is the Father of the Chip. Forever whorshipped.
 
6) A medium pit bull terrier. 50 pounds of sheer muscle. Can't say that about 50 pounds of ass.
 
7) 5 bowling balls. Yep. Strap 'em on and go up and down the stairs a few times.
 
It never gets old! If we had time, I would go around the house and weigh all the appliances. I know my ass was at least as heavy as your average microwave oven. Or maybe even your refrigerator. It was big and it was heavy. Now, not so much. Yes, I am still of large ass. But not of fat ass. Hopefully soon, I will be of normal ass. Fret not my friends, I will always be YOUR horse's ass.
 
Hasta la vista, baby!
 
Johnny!
 
P.S. I'm in the game for real now. Dr. X gave me another full c.c. in the band. I'm at 35% restriction. I will report any changes soon

It is said that a journey of 1000 miles begins with the first step. I began my journey on April 9, 2013. That's the day it finally hit me. I was sitting on a plane. I was an Oreo away from the ultra-embarrassing plea for the belt extender. I could barely fit in the last of my emergency wardrobe. I was tired. Tired of trying to accommodate my fat life style. Because that's what you do. You accommodate your fatness. I just couldn't go on like this. I was ready for a change. I was already through all my hoops for the Lap Band surgery. I was in limbo waiting for my insurance company to green light me. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I decided .. that minute.. that tomorrow I would start my quest for Thindom.

Thindom is a mystical place. It’s the fat ass version of Vallhalla, Atlantis and the Lost City of Gold all rolled up in to one. For a fat person, Thindom is a legend. It is a utopian place that the over -girthed can only dream about. No fat ass has ever been to Thindom and come back to talk about it. Many expanded explorers have tried, but all have failed. It is said that those that enter Thindom, are blessed with a new life filled with hope and joy. Everyone smiles and beams with optimism. It is a place where one size really does fit all. It’s heaven for the hefty.

But beware you of fatness! The trail to Thindom is wrought with danger. There are obstacles at every turn. Unknown creatures and mythical beings lurk in the shadows; their only goal is your defeat. To get to Thindom, you must soldier through these adversities. You must plan your adventure carefully. And you can NEVER look back. You can NEVER give up. There is no yellow brick road. There is only nachos and cheese.

I have made it half way to Thindom. I’m currently navigating my way through the evil forest of fat. I can see the magical mountains of Munchies in the distance. Once I cross their jagged peaks, I hope to spy the valley of Thindom. I know it is there. I can feel it.

Alas, my journey has had its ups and downs. I have danced with the Devil. I have succumbed to the liquid offerings of Al C. Hall. I have fought the beautiful temptress and her sultry offers of cheeseburger and fries. I have dueled with the Duke of Doughnuts. Yes friends, there have been pitfalls. But every time I fell, I got up. The demons in my mind have not deterred me from goal.

I have managed to shed 45 pounds of unsightly blubber. I have 41 to go to hit my goal. If my present pace continues, I will have a 1 in the front of my weight in a few weeks for the first time since Reagan was president. Yes, I know. The road to Thindom gets harder as you get closer to the gate. I hope it’s not just fat ass folklore. When I get there, I will try to contact you from the other side. I wonder if Thindom has wi-fi?

Until we meet again….
Johnny T
Please visit my blog:
TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

It's official!
 
 
 
I saw Dr. X on Monday for my monthly follow up. I have hit the the 50 pound loss mark. If you really think about it ... that's a whole big bucket of blubber. Fifty pounds is definitely life changing. Just about every aspect of my life has changed. My complete wardrobe (all three levels) are obsolete. My sleep habits have changed ... no more snoring. My exercise went from zero to above moderate. My eating habits have greatly changed for the better. My overall activity level has improved. My blood pressure went down and my resting heart rate is at the GOOD level. I'm only a couple of beats per minute over EXCELLENT and not far from ATHLETE. That's a hoot! So you can probably say that I had a complete makeover. Both in outside appearance and inside my head. It's the head part that's the hardest to change. I will have to struggle with this for the rest of my life. If I ever give in, it'll be back to the level 3 wardbrobe and I can't afford that.
 
Well I think it's time to get a real grip on what 50 pounds of fat ass real is. We reviewed it at the 40 level and that was kinda fun. And very eye opening. So let's look at fifty.
 
1) $200 in quarters ( that would be 800 coins) weighs fifty pounds. This begs the question: What would you rather have? 200 bucks or my ass full of quarters?
 
2) An average 7 year old child weighs fifty pounds. My kid is growing up right before my eyes. Remember? He was only 3 at the 40 pound level
 
3) A bale of hay weighs 50 pounds. My ass weighed about 10 bushells full.
 
4) A baby pygmy hippo weighs 50 pounds. We can all think of something wittty to say here. Let's leave at this: A few months ago, hanging out with me would be like hanging out with 5 baby hippos. Less the cuteness.
 
5) 2 big sacks of potatos weigh fifty pounds. Formerly easily consumed by me either fried, baked, sauteed, mashed, boiled. It didn't matter. Also, A potato is the Father of the Chip. Forever whorshipped.
 
6) A medium pit bull terrier. 50 pounds of sheer muscle. Can't say that about 50 pounds of ass.
 
7) 5 bowling balls. Yep. Strap 'em on and go up and down the stairs a few times.
 
It never gets old! If we had time, I would go around the house and weigh all the appliances. I know my ass was at least as heavy as your average microwave oven. Or maybe even your refrigerator. It was big and it was heavy. Now, not so much. Yes, I am still of large ass. But not of fat ass. Hopefully soon, I will be of normal ass. Fret not my friends, I will always be YOUR horse's ass.
 
Hasta la vista, baby!
 
Johnny!
 
P.S. I'm in the game for real now. Dr. X gave me another full c.c. in the band. I'm at 35% restriction. I will report any changes soon

It's official!
 
 
 
I saw Dr. X on Monday for my monthly follow up. I have hit the the 50 pound loss mark. If you really think about it ... that's a whole big bucket of blubber. Fifty pounds is definitely life changing. Just about every aspect of my life has changed. My complete wardrobe (all three levels) are obsolete. My sleep habits have changed ... no more snoring. My exercise went from zero to above moderate. My eating habits have greatly changed for the better. My overall activity level has improved. My blood pressure went down and my resting heart rate is at the GOOD level. I'm only a couple of beats per minute over EXCELLENT and not far from ATHLETE. That's a hoot! So you can probably say that I had a complete makeover. Both in outside appearance and inside my head. It's the head part that's the hardest to change. I will have to struggle with this for the rest of my life. If I ever give in, it'll be back to the level 3 wardbrobe and I can't afford that.
 
Well I think it's time to get a real grip on what 50 pounds of fat ass real is. We reviewed it at the 40 level and that was kinda fun. And very eye opening. So let's look at fifty.
 
1) $200 in quarters ( that would be 800 coins) weighs fifty pounds. This begs the question: What would you rather have? 200 bucks or my ass full of quarters?
 
2) An average 7 year old child weighs fifty pounds. My kid is growing up right before my eyes. Remember? He was only 3 at the 40 pound level
 
3) A bale of hay weighs 50 pounds. My ass weighed about 10 bushells full.
 
4) A baby pygmy hippo weighs 50 pounds. We can all think of something wittty to say here. Let's leave at this: A few months ago, hanging out with me would be like hanging out with 5 baby hippos. Less the cuteness.
 
5) 2 big sacks of potatos weigh fifty pounds. Formerly easily consumed by me either fried, baked, sauteed, mashed, boiled. It didn't matter. Also, A potato is the Father of the Chip. Forever whorshipped.
 
6) A medium pit bull terrier. 50 pounds of sheer muscle. Can't say that about 50 pounds of ass.
 
7) 5 bowling balls. Yep. Strap 'em on and go up and down the stairs a few times.
 
It never gets old! If we had time, I would go around the house and weigh all the appliances. I know my ass was at least as heavy as your average microwave oven. Or maybe even your refrigerator. It was big and it was heavy. Now, not so much. Yes, I am still of large ass. But not of fat ass. Hopefully soon, I will be of normal ass. Fret not my friends, I will always be YOUR horse's ass.
 
Hasta la vista, baby!
 
Johnny!
 
P.S. I'm in the game for real now. Dr. X gave me another full c.c. in the band. I'm at 35% restriction. I will report any changes soon

What's new you ask?
 
Quick answer.... underwear! Yup. I had to replenish my entire supply of unmentionables, even the new ones I got last Christmas. They just weren't doing the job anymore. The always dependable waist bands were stretched beyond repair and my incredible shrinking ass left the backsides saggy and mis-shaped. Not to mention, all security for the family jewels had completely evaporated. I was dealing with an uncomfortable jail break every hour or so. This caused more than a few strange stares from others during what I thought was a private adjusting period. Good thing I wasn't near a Kinder Kare. That would have been hard to explain. So I solved the crisis. I went out and bought some new skivvies.
 
While this may not seem like a big deal to most of you. It was to me. Reason... I don't think I have bought my own underwear for twenty or so years. Why? Because every year when I am asked what I want for Christmas, I give the standard man-swer. "Underwear". So I get underwear. Every Christmas morning, I march up to my dresser with my new present stack and clean out last years Jockeys for this years models. I guess models is an overstatement. Other than a few new colors, the basic design hasn't changed since I was a kid. I mean, really. What can you do to improve underwear? And why do you need to?
 
Well imagine my amazement when I came upon the shorts section of my local department store. I was flabbergasted to see rows and rows and racks and racks of man-derwear! So many brands! So many styles! So little time. And the advertisements, oh my! Here I am, fresh off an embarrassing, not so private reorganizing incident, staring at a life size cut-out of a buffed teen lad with come hither eyes hiding nothing but his schvaanzen behind a scanty pair of man-ties. Honestly, I had to look around and make sure some cop wasn't following me. Or some hidden camera from one of those second rate TV shows.
 
As overwhelmed as I was, I was on a mission! I had to replenish my underwear supply. Two racks over, I spied the familiar Jockey logo. Thank God. I sauntered over thinking I'd pick up my shorts and be on my way. Wrong again. I guess Jockey, in an effort to keep up with times, has totally expanded their product line. Boxer briefs, sports shorts, low rise, high rise, full coverage or tiny pecker pouches. Ugh. After walking around three racks, I finally found the Classic style. Whew. My new size offers me a plethora of color choices. Sure beats the color selection at the old fat man's shop. There used to be three sizes ... FAT, REAL FAT and YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING. And there was only two color choices ... Santa Red and Your Wives's Gonna Kill You White. I always wondered why they would want to see a fat man in red briefs.
 
Without further adieu, I chose the multi colored 6 pack. Six pairs for the price of three, awesome. I took them to the checkout counter and pulled out a ten spot and expected some change. Wrong again. This paltry pack of panties was over $30! I had to double check the pack and see if there was some kind of vibrating device included. Nope. I pulled out a couple double sawbucks and through those down with the ten spot. I got my poor excuse of change and headed out the door.
 
I sure have been out of the man shopping game for a long time. And I am about to get a real education about shopping in the new millennium. My current wardrobe is completely nonfunctional. I had hoped to get through to next spring with some heavy alterations and cheap pants. But that ain't gonna happen. It's gonna cost me. I need to buy a functioning intermediate wardrobe. You know it would be nice if the current men's fashion were of the Fred Flintstone variety. Then I would only need one all purpose tunic.
 
That's all for now.
 
Johnny
 
P.S. I see Dr. X today for a weigh in and another fill. Let's hope I get a GOLD STAR again.
 
P.S.S. isit my blog: TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

What's new you ask?
 
Quick answer.... underwear! Yup. I had to replenish my entire supply of unmentionables, even the new ones I got last Christmas. They just weren't doing the job anymore. The always dependable waist bands were stretched beyond repair and my incredible shrinking ass left the backsides saggy and mis-shaped. Not to mention, all security for the family jewels had completely evaporated. I was dealing with an uncomfortable jail break every hour or so. This caused more than a few strange stares from others during what I thought was a private adjusting period. Good thing I wasn't near a Kinder Kare. That would have been hard to explain. So I solved the crisis. I went out and bought some new skivvies.
 
While this may not seem like a big deal to most of you. It was to me. Reason... I don't think I have bought my own underwear for twenty or so years. Why? Because every year when I am asked what I want for Christmas, I give the standard man-swer. "Underwear". So I get underwear. Every Christmas morning, I march up to my dresser with my new present stack and clean out last years Jockeys for this years models. I guess models is an overstatement. Other than a few new colors, the basic design hasn't changed since I was a kid. I mean, really. What can you do to improve underwear? And why do you need to?
 
Well imagine my amazement when I came upon the shorts section of my local department store. I was flabbergasted to see rows and rows and racks and racks of man-derwear! So many brands! So many styles! So little time. And the advertisements, oh my! Here I am, fresh off an embarrassing, not so private reorganizing incident, staring at a life size cut-out of a buffed teen lad with come hither eyes hiding nothing but his schvaanzen behind a scanty pair of man-ties. Honestly, I had to look around and make sure some cop wasn't following me. Or some hidden camera from one of those second rate TV shows.
 
As overwhelmed as I was, I was on a mission! I had to replenish my underwear supply. Two racks over, I spied the familiar Jockey logo. Thank God. I sauntered over thinking I'd pick up my shorts and be on my way. Wrong again. I guess Jockey, in an effort to keep up with times, has totally expanded their product line. Boxer briefs, sports shorts, low rise, high rise, full coverage or tiny pecker pouches. Ugh. After walking around three racks, I finally found the Classic style. Whew. My new size offers me a plethora of color choices. Sure beats the color selection at the old fat man's shop. There used to be three sizes ... FAT, REAL FAT and YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING. And there was only two color choices ... Santa Red and Your Wives's Gonna Kill You White. I always wondered why they would want to see a fat man in red briefs.
 
Without further adieu, I chose the multi colored 6 pack. Six pairs for the price of three, awesome. I took them to the checkout counter and pulled out a ten spot and expected some change. Wrong again. This paltry pack of panties was over $30! I had to double check the pack and see if there was some kind of vibrating device included. Nope. I pulled out a couple double sawbucks and through those down with the ten spot. I got my poor excuse of change and headed out the door.
 
I sure have been out of the man shopping game for a long time. And I am about to get a real education about shopping in the new millennium. My current wardrobe is completely nonfunctional. I had hoped to get through to next spring with some heavy alterations and cheap pants. But that ain't gonna happen. It's gonna cost me. I need to buy a functioning intermediate wardrobe. You know it would be nice if the current men's fashion were of the Fred Flintstone variety. Then I would only need one all purpose tunic.
 
That's all for now.
 
Johnny
 
P.S. I see Dr. X today for a weigh in and another fill. Let's hope I get a GOLD STAR again.
 
P.S.S. isit my blog: TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

What's new you ask?
 
Quick answer.... underwear! Yup. I had to replenish my entire supply of unmentionables, even the new ones I got last Christmas. They just weren't doing the job anymore. The always dependable waist bands were stretched beyond repair and my incredible shrinking ass left the backsides saggy and mis-shaped. Not to mention, all security for the family jewels had completely evaporated. I was dealing with an uncomfortable jail break every hour or so. This caused more than a few strange stares from others during what I thought was a private adjusting period. Good thing I wasn't near a Kinder Kare. That would have been hard to explain. So I solved the crisis. I went out and bought some new skivvies.
 
While this may not seem like a big deal to most of you. It was to me. Reason... I don't think I have bought my own underwear for twenty or so years. Why? Because every year when I am asked what I want for Christmas, I give the standard man-swer. "Underwear". So I get underwear. Every Christmas morning, I march up to my dresser with my new present stack and clean out last years Jockeys for this years models. I guess models is an overstatement. Other than a few new colors, the basic design hasn't changed since I was a kid. I mean, really. What can you do to improve underwear? And why do you need to?
 
Well imagine my amazement when I came upon the shorts section of my local department store. I was flabbergasted to see rows and rows and racks and racks of man-derwear! So many brands! So many styles! So little time. And the advertisements, oh my! Here I am, fresh off an embarrassing, not so private reorganizing incident, staring at a life size cut-out of a buffed teen lad with come hither eyes hiding nothing but his schvaanzen behind a scanty pair of man-ties. Honestly, I had to look around and make sure some cop wasn't following me. Or some hidden camera from one of those second rate TV shows.
 
As overwhelmed as I was, I was on a mission! I had to replenish my underwear supply. Two racks over, I spied the familiar Jockey logo. Thank God. I sauntered over thinking I'd pick up my shorts and be on my way. Wrong again. I guess Jockey, in an effort to keep up with times, has totally expanded their product line. Boxer briefs, sports shorts, low rise, high rise, full coverage or tiny pecker pouches. Ugh. After walking around three racks, I finally found the Classic style. Whew. My new size offers me a plethora of color choices. Sure beats the color selection at the old fat man's shop. There used to be three sizes ... FAT, REAL FAT and YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING. And there was only two color choices ... Santa Red and Your Wives's Gonna Kill You White. I always wondered why they would want to see a fat man in red briefs.
 
Without further adieu, I chose the multi colored 6 pack. Six pairs for the price of three, awesome. I took them to the checkout counter and pulled out a ten spot and expected some change. Wrong again. This paltry pack of panties was over $30! I had to double check the pack and see if there was some kind of vibrating device included. Nope. I pulled out a couple double sawbucks and through those down with the ten spot. I got my poor excuse of change and headed out the door.
 
I sure have been out of the man shopping game for a long time. And I am about to get a real education about shopping in the new millennium. My current wardrobe is completely nonfunctional. I had hoped to get through to next spring with some heavy alterations and cheap pants. But that ain't gonna happen. It's gonna cost me. I need to buy a functioning intermediate wardrobe. You know it would be nice if the current men's fashion were of the Fred Flintstone variety. Then I would only need one all purpose tunic.
 
That's all for now.
 
Johnny
 
P.S. I see Dr. X today for a weigh in and another fill. Let's hope I get a GOLD STAR again.
 
P.S.S. isit my blog: TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

What's new you ask?
 
Quick answer.... underwear! Yup. I had to replenish my entire supply of unmentionables, even the new ones I got last Christmas. They just weren't doing the job anymore. The always dependable waist bands were stretched beyond repair and my incredible shrinking ass left the backsides saggy and mis-shaped. Not to mention, all security for the family jewels had completely evaporated. I was dealing with an uncomfortable jail break every hour or so. This caused more than a few strange stares from others during what I thought was a private adjusting period. Good thing I wasn't near a Kinder Kare. That would have been hard to explain. So I solved the crisis. I went out and bought some new skivvies.
 
While this may not seem like a big deal to most of you. It was to me. Reason... I don't think I have bought my own underwear for twenty or so years. Why? Because every year when I am asked what I want for Christmas, I give the standard man-swer. "Underwear". So I get underwear. Every Christmas morning, I march up to my dresser with my new present stack and clean out last years Jockeys for this years models. I guess models is an overstatement. Other than a few new colors, the basic design hasn't changed since I was a kid. I mean, really. What can you do to improve underwear? And why do you need to?
 
Well imagine my amazement when I came upon the shorts section of my local department store. I was flabbergasted to see rows and rows and racks and racks of man-derwear! So many brands! So many styles! So little time. And the advertisements, oh my! Here I am, fresh off an embarrassing, not so private reorganizing incident, staring at a life size cut-out of a buffed teen lad with come hither eyes hiding nothing but his schvaanzen behind a scanty pair of man-ties. Honestly, I had to look around and make sure some cop wasn't following me. Or some hidden camera from one of those second rate TV shows.
 
As overwhelmed as I was, I was on a mission! I had to replenish my underwear supply. Two racks over, I spied the familiar Jockey logo. Thank God. I sauntered over thinking I'd pick up my shorts and be on my way. Wrong again. I guess Jockey, in an effort to keep up with times, has totally expanded their product line. Boxer briefs, sports shorts, low rise, high rise, full coverage or tiny pecker pouches. Ugh. After walking around three racks, I finally found the Classic style. Whew. My new size offers me a plethora of color choices. Sure beats the color selection at the old fat man's shop. There used to be three sizes ... FAT, REAL FAT and YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING. And there was only two color choices ... Santa Red and Your Wives's Gonna Kill You White. I always wondered why they would want to see a fat man in red briefs.
 
Without further adieu, I chose the multi colored 6 pack. Six pairs for the price of three, awesome. I took them to the checkout counter and pulled out a ten spot and expected some change. Wrong again. This paltry pack of panties was over $30! I had to double check the pack and see if there was some kind of vibrating device included. Nope. I pulled out a couple double sawbucks and through those down with the ten spot. I got my poor excuse of change and headed out the door.
 
I sure have been out of the man shopping game for a long time. And I am about to get a real education about shopping in the new millennium. My current wardrobe is completely nonfunctional. I had hoped to get through to next spring with some heavy alterations and cheap pants. But that ain't gonna happen. It's gonna cost me. I need to buy a functioning intermediate wardrobe. You know it would be nice if the current men's fashion were of the Fred Flintstone variety. Then I would only need one all purpose tunic.
 
That's all for now.
 
Johnny
 
P.S. I see Dr. X today for a weigh in and another fill. Let's hope I get a GOLD STAR again.
 
P.S.S. isit my blog: TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

Welcome back all you fat ass fanatics!
 
 
The blog is picking up a little steam. We have over 7,000 visitors from points across the globe. Invite your family and friends to join in this fat ass fun fair! We have room for all. Also, if you know of anybody currently struggling with fat-ass-i-tit-is or considering weight loss surgery, have them stop by as well. I'm proud to say that my story so far, wacky as it may be, has actually motivated others to start their own flab fight. Hey, if I can help one person lose one pound, that will be far more than I ever expected to do with a corny weight loss blog. So "CHEERS" to all you new wobbly warriors!
 
 
On to this weeks observations. Let's start with wight loss vs. waist size. I have noticed that these two do not appear at the same time. During any given week, I may struggle to show a weight loss on the scale. This PO's me something fierce. Then I put on a pair of new pants and they are too big. I'm perplexed. I didn't lose any poundage yet my pants are looser. Hmmm. And the vice-versa is also true. I can't fit into a new pair of shorts I bought, but I'm losing weight this week. It just never happens on the same day. But I ain't bitchin! It will all work out in the end. The rear end.
I've also been playing with numbers in my head. I wanted to share a few with you.
 
 
0- The number / amount of any of my everyday Level 1 wardrobe that fits. I can only wear my old ties.
 
 
1- The number that will be in front of my weight in a couple of weeks for the first time since the 80's.
 
 
3- The number of new pants I have that kind of fit.
 
 
5- The number of days I have had vodka since April 9. Personal record.
 
 
6- The number of inches I have removed from my waistline. Note: I didn't even know I had a waist. Or a neck for that matter.
40.63 - The number of miles I walked last week. A few rounds of golf and a couple airports trips really adds up.
 
 
50- The number of pounds lost I will be at in a matter of days.
 
 
97,011 - The number of my steps in 40.63 miles.
 
 
20,159 - The number of calories I burned last week
 
 
(7,173) - The differential of calories in vs, calories out. According to my friend Dr. S, this should have resulted in about 2-1/2 lb weight loss. Guess what? It did.
 
 
That's just a quick look at the friendly numbers of my journey so far. I think it's pretty good for only 4-1/2 months of calorie counting. I'm pleased. I know I can't get overconfident. I've already noticed every pound comes off slower than before. I guess my body is adjusting to the new lower fuel intake. That probably means I have to ramp up the calorie burning process. And I hate the "W" word. W as is workout. I know it's part of the process and I'm determined to accelerate my activity level and defeat my inner lazybug. Maybe I'll start tomorrow. Or maybe not.
 
 
Weigh-in day next Monday and a fill from Dr. X! I will certainly be irritated if I don't hit the 50 level by then. You'll have to come back and see.
 
 
Bye now!
Johnny
 
Stop by my blog:
 
TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

It is said that a journey of 1000 miles begins with the first step. I began my journey on April 9, 2013. That's the day it finally hit me. I was sitting on a plane. I was an Oreo away from the ultra-embarrassing plea for the belt extender. I could barely fit in the last of my emergency wardrobe. I was tired. Tired of trying to accommodate my fat life style. Because that's what you do. You accommodate your fatness. I just couldn't go on like this. I was ready for a change. I was already through all my hoops for the Lap Band surgery. I was in limbo waiting for my insurance company to green light me. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I decided .. that minute.. that tomorrow I would start my quest for Thindom.

Thindom is a mystical place. It’s the fat ass version of Vallhalla, Atlantis and the Lost City of Gold all rolled up in to one. For a fat person, Thindom is a legend. It is a utopian place that the over -girthed can only dream about. No fat ass has ever been to Thindom and come back to talk about it. Many expanded explorers have tried, but all have failed. It is said that those that enter Thindom, are blessed with a new life filled with hope and joy. Everyone smiles and beams with optimism. It is a place where one size really does fit all. It’s heaven for the hefty.

But beware you of fatness! The trail to Thindom is wrought with danger. There are obstacles at every turn. Unknown creatures and mythical beings lurk in the shadows; their only goal is your defeat. To get to Thindom, you must soldier through these adversities. You must plan your adventure carefully. And you can NEVER look back. You can NEVER give up. There is no yellow brick road. There is only nachos and cheese.

I have made it half way to Thindom. I’m currently navigating my way through the evil forest of fat. I can see the magical mountains of Munchies in the distance. Once I cross their jagged peaks, I hope to spy the valley of Thindom. I know it is there. I can feel it.

Alas, my journey has had its ups and downs. I have danced with the Devil. I have succumbed to the liquid offerings of Al C. Hall. I have fought the beautiful temptress and her sultry offers of cheeseburger and fries. I have dueled with the Duke of Doughnuts. Yes friends, there have been pitfalls. But every time I fell, I got up. The demons in my mind have not deterred me from goal.

I have managed to shed 45 pounds of unsightly blubber. I have 41 to go to hit my goal. If my present pace continues, I will have a 1 in the front of my weight in a few weeks for the first time since Reagan was president. Yes, I know. The road to Thindom gets harder as you get closer to the gate. I hope it’s not just fat ass folklore. When I get there, I will try to contact you from the other side. I wonder if Thindom has wi-fi?

Until we meet again….
Johnny T
Please visit my blog:
TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

It is said that a journey of 1000 miles begins with the first step. I began my journey on April 9, 2013. That's the day it finally hit me. I was sitting on a plane. I was an Oreo away from the ultra-embarrassing plea for the belt extender. I could barely fit in the last of my emergency wardrobe. I was tired. Tired of trying to accommodate my fat life style. Because that's what you do. You accommodate your fatness. I just couldn't go on like this. I was ready for a change. I was already through all my hoops for the Lap Band surgery. I was in limbo waiting for my insurance company to green light me. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I decided .. that minute.. that tomorrow I would start my quest for Thindom.

Thindom is a mystical place. It’s the fat ass version of Vallhalla, Atlantis and the Lost City of Gold all rolled up in to one. For a fat person, Thindom is a legend. It is a utopian place that the over -girthed can only dream about. No fat ass has ever been to Thindom and come back to talk about it. Many expanded explorers have tried, but all have failed. It is said that those that enter Thindom, are blessed with a new life filled with hope and joy. Everyone smiles and beams with optimism. It is a place where one size really does fit all. It’s heaven for the hefty.

But beware you of fatness! The trail to Thindom is wrought with danger. There are obstacles at every turn. Unknown creatures and mythical beings lurk in the shadows; their only goal is your defeat. To get to Thindom, you must soldier through these adversities. You must plan your adventure carefully. And you can NEVER look back. You can NEVER give up. There is no yellow brick road. There is only nachos and cheese.

I have made it half way to Thindom. I’m currently navigating my way through the evil forest of fat. I can see the magical mountains of Munchies in the distance. Once I cross their jagged peaks, I hope to spy the valley of Thindom. I know it is there. I can feel it.

Alas, my journey has had its ups and downs. I have danced with the Devil. I have succumbed to the liquid offerings of Al C. Hall. I have fought the beautiful temptress and her sultry offers of cheeseburger and fries. I have dueled with the Duke of Doughnuts. Yes friends, there have been pitfalls. But every time I fell, I got up. The demons in my mind have not deterred me from goal.

I have managed to shed 45 pounds of unsightly blubber. I have 41 to go to hit my goal. If my present pace continues, I will have a 1 in the front of my weight in a few weeks for the first time since Reagan was president. Yes, I know. The road to Thindom gets harder as you get closer to the gate. I hope it’s not just fat ass folklore. When I get there, I will try to contact you from the other side. I wonder if Thindom has wi-fi?

Until we meet again….
Johnny T
Please visit my blog:
TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

It is said that a journey of 1000 miles begins with the first step. I began my journey on April 9, 2013. That's the day it finally hit me. I was sitting on a plane. I was an Oreo away from the ultra-embarrassing plea for the belt extender. I could barely fit in the last of my emergency wardrobe. I was tired. Tired of trying to accommodate my fat life style. Because that's what you do. You accommodate your fatness. I just couldn't go on like this. I was ready for a change. I was already through all my hoops for the Lap Band surgery. I was in limbo waiting for my insurance company to green light me. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I decided .. that minute.. that tomorrow I would start my quest for Thindom.

Thindom is a mystical place. It’s the fat ass version of Vallhalla, Atlantis and the Lost City of Gold all rolled up in to one. For a fat person, Thindom is a legend. It is a utopian place that the over -girthed can only dream about. No fat ass has ever been to Thindom and come back to talk about it. Many expanded explorers have tried, but all have failed. It is said that those that enter Thindom, are blessed with a new life filled with hope and joy. Everyone smiles and beams with optimism. It is a place where one size really does fit all. It’s heaven for the hefty.

But beware you of fatness! The trail to Thindom is wrought with danger. There are obstacles at every turn. Unknown creatures and mythical beings lurk in the shadows; their only goal is your defeat. To get to Thindom, you must soldier through these adversities. You must plan your adventure carefully. And you can NEVER look back. You can NEVER give up. There is no yellow brick road. There is only nachos and cheese.

I have made it half way to Thindom. I’m currently navigating my way through the evil forest of fat. I can see the magical mountains of Munchies in the distance. Once I cross their jagged peaks, I hope to spy the valley of Thindom. I know it is there. I can feel it.

Alas, my journey has had its ups and downs. I have danced with the Devil. I have succumbed to the liquid offerings of Al C. Hall. I have fought the beautiful temptress and her sultry offers of cheeseburger and fries. I have dueled with the Duke of Doughnuts. Yes friends, there have been pitfalls. But every time I fell, I got up. The demons in my mind have not deterred me from goal.

I have managed to shed 45 pounds of unsightly blubber. I have 41 to go to hit my goal. If my present pace continues, I will have a 1 in the front of my weight in a few weeks for the first time since Reagan was president. Yes, I know. The road to Thindom gets harder as you get closer to the gate. I hope it’s not just fat ass folklore. When I get there, I will try to contact you from the other side. I wonder if Thindom has wi-fi?

Until we meet again….
Johnny T
Please visit my blog:
TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

Yep, the Big 4-0! As much as I wish that was my current age, alas it is not. That ship sailed many moons ago, some where around George Bush 1 (The old guy). But it is the number of unsightly pounds that I have shredded since I began this journey on April 9th. My deconstruction has been in full swing for 15 weeks. If we look back to my first appointment in January, I have been fully encompassed with this project for 7 plus months, over half a year. Time does fly.
 
Let's talk about what 40 pounds really is.
 
A 15 foot canoe weighs 40 pounds. FYI - My old ass would never fit in a canoe. The kids at camp always made me go in the big boat.
 
An average 3 year old child and a full size Soft Coated Wheaton Terrier each weigh 40 pounds. In case you're wondering, I did check. A strange kid or a lost dog was not wedged in my butt crack.
 
An average full size human leg weighs 40 pounds. Really? I think one of my legs is the average weight of a full size human.
 
5 gallons of water weighs 40 pounds. Did you ever try to replace the big bottle on the water cooler? They're friggin heavy. It takes 2 skinny kids in my office to change it.
 
2 car tires weigh 40 pounds. Wow. I've been wearing two radials around my mid section. My goal is to lose a whole set of tires .... and the spare. Yikes.
 
4 ten pound bowling balls weigh 40 pounds. Try carrying those up and down the stairs a few times.
 
Need we go on? It's mind blowing to me that this much excess blubber was attached to my paltry frame. AND I'm not even half way done! I still gotta lose at least a kid and a Chihuahua to hit my goal.
 
Remember the guy who said " I treat my body like a temple." That obviously wasn't me. I've treated my body more like an all night diner. Attached to a liquor store. Years of binge eating, binge drinking and party chasing have come back to haunt me. There's always a price to pay. Reminds me of that 70s era bumper sticker: "Gas, Grass or ass, nobody rides for free."
 
The good news is that I should hit the half way mark to my goal some time next week. If I average losing 1-1/2 pounds per week I should hit goal near the end of January. In the mean time, if your missing a kid or a Labrador Retriever, I'll bend over and give you look in my handy lost & found area.
 
Chow Chow!
Johnny
 
P.S. I see Dr. X Monday for another fill. I'm guessing he's going to take me up another 1.5 ccs. That will be a 30% closure on the band. Another new adventure.
 
Visit my blog at;
 
TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

Yep, the Big 4-0! As much as I wish that was my current age, alas it is not. That ship sailed many moons ago, some where around George Bush 1 (The old guy). But it is the number of unsightly pounds that I have shredded since I began this journey on April 9th. My deconstruction has been in full swing for 15 weeks. If we look back to my first appointment in January, I have been fully encompassed with this project for 7 plus months, over half a year. Time does fly.
 
Let's talk about what 40 pounds really is.
 
A 15 foot canoe weighs 40 pounds. FYI - My old ass would never fit in a canoe. The kids at camp always made me go in the big boat.
 
An average 3 year old child and a full size Soft Coated Wheaton Terrier each weigh 40 pounds. In case you're wondering, I did check. A strange kid or a lost dog was not wedged in my butt crack.
 
An average full size human leg weighs 40 pounds. Really? I think one of my legs is the average weight of a full size human.
 
5 gallons of water weighs 40 pounds. Did you ever try to replace the big bottle on the water cooler? They're friggin heavy. It takes 2 skinny kids in my office to change it.
 
2 car tires weigh 40 pounds. Wow. I've been wearing two radials around my mid section. My goal is to lose a whole set of tires .... and the spare. Yikes.
 
4 ten pound bowling balls weigh 40 pounds. Try carrying those up and down the stairs a few times.
 
Need we go on? It's mind blowing to me that this much excess blubber was attached to my paltry frame. AND I'm not even half way done! I still gotta lose at least a kid and a Chihuahua to hit my goal.
 
Remember the guy who said " I treat my body like a temple." That obviously wasn't me. I've treated my body more like an all night diner. Attached to a liquor store. Years of binge eating, binge drinking and party chasing have come back to haunt me. There's always a price to pay. Reminds me of that 70s era bumper sticker: "Gas, Grass or ass, nobody rides for free."
 
The good news is that I should hit the half way mark to my goal some time next week. If I average losing 1-1/2 pounds per week I should hit goal near the end of January. In the mean time, if your missing a kid or a Labrador Retriever, I'll bend over and give you look in my handy lost & found area.
 
Chow Chow!
Johnny
 
P.S. I see Dr. X Monday for another fill. I'm guessing he's going to take me up another 1.5 ccs. That will be a 30% closure on the band. Another new adventure.
 
Visit my blog at;
 
TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

I need to get ya'll up to date. I have been a bit behind my updates due to a busy schedule. Last week's busy-ness included another 3 day golf event and a lengthy visit from Al. C. Hall. As always, there is good and bad news to report. On the bright side, I really made good food choices and my personal technology says I walked 21.36 miles and burned 9711 calories during this 3 day period. However, I did enjoy more than several adult beverages and succumbed to a few bar snacks. Unfortunately, I think these transgressions shortened my weekly weight loss. But I'm back up on the horse and ready to get going again.Now I want to share a little tidbit of information I casually picked from a doctor acquaintance of mine. After a laid back round of Sunday couples golf, our group headed off for a mid day meal. Conversation soon turned to my quest to be less fat. I explained to the good doctor my calorie counting strategy and my progress so far. She then dropped a fun fact on me that really hit home. The affable Dr. S contends that you need to burn 3000 more calories for the week than you take in to lose 1 pound. Simple genius! Not only is this easy is to understand for my neanderthal intelligence level, it's also a number. A number than can be used in a math equation to help me better understand what exactly I'm doing here. Fact is, I have been really concentrating on what's going in the ol' pie hole. I really haven't thought about the going out process. I suppose I have typical fat ass thinking. Eat less. Lose weight. Is it that simple? Kinda. But there's more to it.

I have embraced technology to help me find Slim Street. I have 2 items that I now find essential for me to finish the filleting of my fat. First, the MyFitnessPal app (MFP). I use the daily food diary to keep track of every morsel that goes in my massive yapper. If I can't find exactly what I ate in the index, I err on the high side. My second technological necessity is my FitBit Flex. Don't ask me how, but this little peanut size device records every step I take and figures my daily calorie burn. This miniature device syncs with the FitBit app on my phone which syncs with my FitBit scale which syncs with the MyFitnessPal app. I have all the data crunching tech I need.
 
 
 
But I needed the numbers to make sense to me. And Dr. S's simple equation is helping me do that.
 
Let's do the math! Time to brush up on your a-fat-ma-tic. I have chosen a 1200 calorie a day diet plan. That would be 8400 calories in per week. Dr. S's tip mandates that I burn 12,900 (3000 + 1500 =4500) per week to lose 1-1/2 pounds. Divided by 7, that's 1842 calories per day! Now... Let's recall what Trainer L told me during my pre-op exercise visit. She said my body burns 1650 calories a day with just normal activity. That means I only have to burn an extra 200 calories a day to lose the 1-1/2 pounds. Simple math for a simple mind.
 
 
It's starting to dawn on me that I can burn more than 12,900 calories a week, especially in the summer. Heck, last week I burned 19,800 calories according to my FitBit. The MFP app has another nice feature. When you're done logging your calories for the day, it will calculate burn and show you what you will weigh in 5 weeks if every day was like today. So far, it's been right on target. It's telling me that I will lose another 10 pounds by the end of August. Awesome news.
 
 
So take it from me. Do your math and embrace your technology. I'm no Bill Gates when it comes to these fancy gadgets and I surly ain't no math wizard. But I will embrace anything that will help me finish my fight against flab. And guess what? There's an app for that.
 
 
 
 
More to come....
 
Johnny
 
If you want a good laugh, start at the beginning of my blog and see what I went through to have the LB installed!
 
TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com

I need to get ya'll up to date. I have been a bit behind my updates due to a busy schedule. Last week's busy-ness included another 3 day golf event and a lengthy visit from Al. C. Hall. As always, there is good and bad news to report. On the bright side, I really made good food choices and my personal technology says I walked 21.36 miles and burned 9711 calories during this 3 day period. However, I did enjoy more than several adult beverages and succumbed to a few bar snacks. Unfortunately, I think these transgressions shortened my weekly weight loss. But I'm back up on the horse and ready to get going again.Now I want to share a little tidbit of information I casually picked from a doctor acquaintance of mine. After a laid back round of Sunday couples golf, our group headed off for a mid day meal. Conversation soon turned to my quest to be less fat. I explained to the good doctor my calorie counting strategy and my progress so far. She then dropped a fun fact on me that really hit home. The affable Dr. S contends that you need to burn 3000 more calories for the week than you take in to lose 1 pound. Simple genius! Not only is this easy is to understand for my neanderthal intelligence level, it's also a number. A number than can be used in a math equation to help me better understand what exactly I'm doing here. Fact is, I have been really concentrating on what's going in the ol' pie hole. I really haven't thought about the going out process. I suppose I have typical fat ass thinking. Eat less. Lose weight. Is it that simple? Kinda. But there's more to it.

I have embraced technology to help me find Slim Street. I have 2 items that I now find essential for me to finish the filleting of my fat. First, the MyFitnessPal app (MFP). I use the daily food diary to keep track of every morsel that goes in my massive yapper. If I can't find exactly what I ate in the index, I err on the high side. My second technological necessity is my FitBit Flex. Don't ask me how, but this little peanut size device records every step I take and figures my daily calorie burn. This miniature device syncs with the FitBit app on my phone which syncs with my FitBit scale which syncs with the MyFitnessPal app. I have all the data crunching tech I need.
 
 
 
But I needed the numbers to make sense to me. And Dr. S's simple equation is helping me do that.
 
Let's do the math! Time to brush up on your a-fat-ma-tic. I have chosen a 1200 calorie a day diet plan. That would be 8400 calories in per week. Dr. S's tip mandates that I burn 12,900 (3000 + 1500 =4500) per week to lose 1-1/2 pounds. Divided by 7, that's 1842 calories per day! Now... Let's recall what Trainer L told me during my pre-op exercise visit. She said my body burns 1650 calories a day with just normal activity. That means I only have to burn an extra 200 calories a day to lose the 1-1/2 pounds. Simple math for a simple mind.
 
 
It's starting to dawn on me that I can burn more than 12,900 calories a week, especially in the summer. Heck, last week I burned 19,800 calories according to my FitBit. The MFP app has another nice feature. When you're done logging your calories for the day, it will calculate burn and show you what you will weigh in 5 weeks if every day was like today. So far, it's been right on target. It's telling me that I will lose another 10 pounds by the end of August. Awesome news.
 
 
So take it from me. Do your math and embrace your technology. I'm no Bill Gates when it comes to these fancy gadgets and I surly ain't no math wizard. But I will embrace anything that will help me finish my fight against flab. And guess what? There's an app for that.
 
 
 
 
More to come....
 
Johnny
 
If you want a good laugh, start at the beginning of my blog and see what I went through to have the LB installed!
 
TheDeconstructionOfJohnny.blogspot.com