The Day My Girth Stood Still

Current weight: 338 lbs.
Current Wait: 7 days.

On April 27 I published my first entry on The Fat Guy in the Third Row, which one friend suggested I should change to the more humorous, The Fat Guy in the Third AND Fourth Row. I really wish I had thought of that. That's some funny shit right there.

In that first missive I threw my hat into the Weight Loss Surgery octagon and challenged my outer Fat Man to a no-holds-barred, winner-take-all, pinfalls-count-anywhere Texas Lap Band Steel Cage Death Match, with The Good Doctor as the special guest referee.

Along the way I've tried to detail my perilous journey using only my love of the written word and warped sense of humor as my trusted and loyal sherpas. And up until now, it's all been theory, supposition, conjecture, here say, uneducated guessing and a healthy dose of hyperbole. Basically, it's been all talk and no action. All smoke and no fire. All hat and no cattle.

Today, in keeping with the farm animal reference from above, it's time to kick this pig. Today, in similar keeping to the mountain climbing reference also from above, I begin my final, week-long push toward the summit; the apex that is Surgery Day. This final leg is the hardest; a test usually reserved only for hardened criminals, severe IBS cases and people with broken jaws.

Yes. It's what you think it is. The liquid diet.

Liquid Diet? Hey, isn't that what got me into this corpulent conundrum in the first place? Beer. It does a body good, right?

No more, my frothy, cold-filtered friend. Your hops and barley are not longer welcome around here. Instead, this week it's all about broth, fruit juices, protein supplements and drinkable yogurt. Or as my instructions say, "anything that pours without solid food matter." YUMMY! Seems it's needed to help shrink the liver prior to gut cuttin' time. Hell, it's the least I can do. I've kicked the crap out of my liver for a lotta years. 'Bout time it gets a little rest.

So everything I've gone through to this point, all the hoops, all the doctors, all the fat people, and for what? Today, on the first day of my liquid diet, I get to attend a communications seminar, which, of course, features free breakfast, free lunch, and all the free sodas and cookies you can eat during the morning and afternoon breaks. You know, all the things that make attending these kind of seminars almost bearable. Thanks Bossman, your timing is impeccable. You'll be getting some day-old pastries, a boxed lunch and a shirt full of mini-Sprites and oatmeal cookies for your troubles.

But that is not all. Oh, no. That is not all. Since it would be my final bites of anything resembling solid food for the next four weeks, I put a lot of thought into my final meal. Grilled Parmesan prawns with garlic butter, roasted new potatoes and a glass or two of my favorite Merlot.

The Calendar Gods, however, had other plans, choosing to double-book last night's grand finale with National Night Out. So instead of spending a romantic night with The Wife enjoying mouth-watering shrimp, tender rosemary potatoes and a full-bodied red with earthy tones and subtle finish, I spent my might choking down chili dogs, chips and sweet tea while shooting the shit with my neighbors.

How's that for being born under a bad sign. Anyone for shrimp and potato smoothies?