Current Weight: 320 with clothes on (HA! Now you have the mental image of me standing on a scale naked!!!)
Weight Lost Since Initial Appointment: 5 lbs.
As I pedal sluggishly through the opening stages of my Tour de Fat, I continue to get my pant leg caught in the chain. And no matter how many times I work myself free, it only takes a few revolutions before I'm caught in the gears again and have ground to a halt.
For you non-sports types who already have a big question mark forming over your tilted head because you have no earthly idea what my somewhat clever but definitely over thought metaphor is referring to, I'll save you the brain cells.
Losing weight is hard work, y'all.
I mean, really hard.
I mean, trying to remember if Bad English had any other hit besides "When I See You Smile" hard.
Of course, if it were easy, we'd all be thin, Jenny Craig would be just some random chick and we'd instinctively know that in fact no, Bad English did not have another hit, unless you want to call "Price of Love" a hit (And if you do, then you are a bigger Bad English fan than I am).
But I already knew and expected all of this. (Cue segue into today's topic in 3 ... 2 ... 1) When I visited the Good Doctor for the first time last month, I had no idea what to expect. Here were my opening thoughts:
As The Wife and I approached the office, we were greeted in the hall by a long empty row of regulation brown wood chairs on either side of the door. Sweet merciful crap, I thought, this guy is all Dr. T and the Women up in here. He stacks 'em high and stacks 'em deep.
But it was early, and the overweight overflow hadn't quite made it into the hallway yet. And even though I had wisely opted for a morning appointment (thanks to whomever suggested that), the spacious and well decorated waiting room was already packed tight with at least 20 women at various stages of their own journey. Oh, and some dragged-along kid who was locked inside his PS3 or Nintendo DS or whatever the kids are playing with these days.
After filling out the ream of paperwork (one of which informed me that it will cost me a cool grand if I decide to cancel within two weeks of my surgery date) I settled in to weight, er, wait. And settle in I did, into a plush, oversized, incredibly comfortable leather recliner.
Not pleather, or vinyl or any facsimile thereof. We're talking Ricardo Montalban/Chrysler Cordoba/soft Corinthian grade leather. And not just my seat - ALL the seats, in either recliner or love seat or sofa form (all oversized, of course), spread across the hardwood floors. Quite obvious the Good Doctor had put some profit back into his practice.
It was a comfy cocoon for fat people; a mother's womb that nurtured and cuddled its fat little babies close in its supple leathery arms while preparing to give birth to a litter of thin people (OK ... again definitely over thought there).
It struck me as odd at first but later it made total sense. Gotta keep the fat, well, happy.
The remaining wait was uneventful, except that we got to watch part of "Guess Who" with Bernie Mac and Ashton Kutcher (in high definition, of course). SIDE NOTE: Guess Who? Really? Someone actually thought that was a good idea. The mind boggles.
Anyway, it's back to the Good Doctor in a couple of weeks for the next leg of my Tour de Fat. And hopefully one day in the near future, my butt will fit just as well on those hard wooden chairs in the hallway as it does in the comfy cocoon. Ricardo Montalban be damned!