Week 2 in the Books

Sorry Blogsters...I have been remiss in my duties for the past few days. Today is my second weigh in...two weeks into the project. I am happy to report 2 additional pounds have found their way off me and on to wherever shed fatness goes. That is a total of 10lbs in two weeks. Not quite as much shock and awe this week as last. I think this week's weight loss represents a more natural and real number. Last week was likely a lot of water weight since my salt intake as dropped.

So now...90 pounds to go and 51.5 weeks left before the big 4-0.

I'm pretty happy.

This week I discovered Walmart's Great Value Southwestern Spicy mustard. Only 10 calories a tablespoon and mucho flavor. I added it to stir fry last night and was pleased. Like I've said before, if healthy food has a lot of flavor, I'm much more likely to keep eating it.

On the night eating front, I can report that I no longer get up to eat. I don't know how this happened and why it's easier for me this time around. It could be the vault door I put on my room or the hungry Rottweiler that sits outside the pantry. Kidding. It's a Shih-Poo, not a Rottweiler.

Since I have been slacking with the blog for a few days, I'll add a new episode of "Today's Nasty Fat Side Effect". Today's discussion will center around seat belt extensions on commercial aircraft. Only once have I needed said device. I think newer airplanes are just facing the fact that Americans are getting fatter, and have increased the size of the standard seat belt. But for the one time I had to use it...man it sucked. Picture this: A poor fat man is boarding a plane. He's got a laptop on one arm and a carry on in the other. By the time he gets to his seat, he's fairly generously bathed in sweat. As he puts his bags away, he notices the "Real Housewife of Orange County" in the seat next to his is nervously watching as he prepares to sit.

As he sits (insert Today's Nasty Fat Side Effect about Stadium Chairs) he is aware that Ms. Perma-tan next to him has managed to squeeze her entire Botox-infused frame onto the half of her seat nearest the window. I'm sure she is afraid that if she touches the portly fellow, she might catch "the fat". So he finally squeezes into his seat and begins to fidget with the seat belt...you know Federal Regs and all. As he extends the seat belt to it's fullest length, he realizes he is about an inch short of bringing the ends together. He starts what I call "the fat man dance". This is where girthy people try to suck in, shimmy, shake, and pray that whatever it is that is too small will somehow just give in and fit. Who knows how much collateral sweat flew off and hit the poor 50-year old debutante. From the sign of the cross she was making at me, I would say a lot.

At some point the pudgy traveler musters all his strength, all his courage, all his fear, all his love, all his hate and with everything he has in him he tries to pull the two seat belt ends together. If he had been alone, he would have let out a lion-like roar in anguish. At this point, Ms. Orange County even starts to pity the round ball of futility sitting next to her. The thing that the man has forgotten is that these seat belts are really not designed to give...at all.

About this time, the stewardess comes over the intercom to remind everyone to put on their seat bets. Oh, the humanity. Our weary traveler realizes that he cannot comply. Believe it or not he doesn't know seat belt extenders even exist. He figures the airline will just have him sign a waiver acknowledging that in the event of turbulence, if he is thrown from his seat, he can't sue. He feels OK with this since it would take a shoe horn and a fireman to get him out of his seat anyway.

So he presses the call button and a stewardess arrives. After explaining to the stewardess the situation, her years of training kick in. She promptly returns with what appears to be another seat belt. As she gets closer, it becomes evident it is a seat belt extender. By this time, a half dozen people easily are following along with the events. She explains to him how to use it and the situation is resolved. You should have seen how folks looked at the guy when the drink and peanut snack came. They were all staring like "I know you aren't going to eat those peanuts after all that, fat boy."

So, while safe from turbulence, I was quite humiliated. Wouldn't it be funny if all of the fat I lose finds it's way to Ms. Orange County's thighs? I can dream.

Until the next blog...thanks for your support.