The amazing shrinking John.... The finale?

My original weight goal when I started this whole stupid "Operation Skinny John" thing was 220. I never really expected to hit it, but I figured if you aim high and miss, you'll still be somewhere near the target. But what happens when you succeed where you expected to fail?

In the beginning, back when I was pushing 250, I told myself that when I hit 220 I would reward myself with KFC. If you don't know my history with fried chicken, let me just say it's not pretty. I have been known to eat myself sick on fried chicken, go to bed, and then get up at 3 in the morning because I knew there were a couple legs left in the fridge. It's bad. Seriously, I can eat 2 complete fried chickens in an evening, no problem. Give me a long night, and I might go three or four. I've never really had any addiction problems, but fried chicken has always been the chink in my armor. I can resist donuts easy. Cake, pie, etc? No problem (though I do love me some pie). I generally don't care for sweet stuff, so sugar is not a problem. I actually enjoy a spartan diet. It makes me feel tough. But damn, I get one whiff of fried chicken and I am an deep trouble fast.

Later in the "Operation Skinny John" project, I revised the goal. I told myself that at 225 I could have fried chicken. I did this because I am weak, and because I thought it would help motivate me. It did help. It drove me, it kept me focused, but... Then it happened... I hit 225. I knew I was off the hook for fried chicken, but it felt like a hollow victory. I'd won by redefining the terms of victory. That's not winning. It's bullshit. I couldn't bring myself to claim a prize I didn't really earn, so I never cashed that check.

Tonight, I was feeling fat. I'd sat at home working and playing motorcycle mechanic all day. I missed the first of my daily doubles (if you don't know what that is, ask anyone who played high school football). I got everything done and went to the gym. I did my cardio, and then did the reduced weight workout I'm doing now due to an injury. I still felt thick, but I weighed myself anyway.

220.3


That counts in my book. With things the way they are, I'd been feeling too much stress and not enough pleasure. I cashed the check. I'm now assured that I'll be able to use fried chicken responsibly (these type of things are never as good as you build them up to be), but DAMN was it good.

Anyway, Shannon has said I'm not allowed to drop below 215, so after this it will be a slow process of swapping about 10-20 pounds of fat for 10-20 pounds of muscle. That takes time, and I have a plan, but I think the days of dramatic results are over. Man, it was a fun ride and I sent it off properly.



Oh and lest anyone think I forgot about the whole raw food thing, the rest of my diet today consisted of oats, a boiled egg, carrot sticks, and cashews.

P.S. Red wine goes with chicken.... OR ANY OTHER GOD DAMN THING I WANT IT TO!!!!!