Scrambled Eggs and Studio 54

Starting Weight as of 10/14: 328 lbs.

Current Weight as of 10/29: 305 lbs.

Amount Lost: 23 lbs.

So it's been two weeks of liquids, a week on The Band and my ass is 23 pounds lighter. But that's like kicking a couple rocks off of Mount Everest. It's still freakin' huge! Nonetheless, I'm on my way. And to be completely honest, so far it really hasn't been that bad. The pain was dispensed in short order by my good friend Liquid Hydrocodone, who unfortunately is no longer with us. Hell, that's been the hardest thing to handle. I swear I sat and stared at the empty bottle for 20 minutes. I liked it when things were all tingly and a nice shade of cerulean blue.

The soreness has been minimal, but the swelling is still there. And not in a good way. My belly, which is now minus the 14 staples across 5 incisions, is still as tight and bloated as it would be after a happy, pre-Band night at the Super Jumbo Bumbo Chinese Buffet.

But Dr. Follow Up says that will go away in due time. Remember, he said, with every incision on the outside, there's the same size incision on the inside that still has to heal. And that can take a while, especially when you have skin like you do that is as thick and blubbery as a humpback whale's. Maybe he didn't really say that last part.

The good news is, and I think I'm burying the lead here, I'm eating SOFT FOODS! After my visit with Dr. Follow Up the other day, I high-tailed my big tail up to Cafe Brazil and dined on the world-famous culinary pairing of two soft scrambled eggs with salsa and a cup of cream of jalapeno soup.

Think about the best meal you ever had. Add to that the most earth-shaking, teeth-rattling, breath-taking, knee-knocking, toe-curling orgasm you every had. Add to that what it felt like for the 1987-88 Newman Smith Trojans to beat J.J. Pearce on Homecoming (We sucked! It was our first district win other than R.L. Turner in I don't know how many years). Multiply all that by 42 and that only begins to get slightly close to how good those eggs tasted. I mean, they were Eddie Murphy Best Cracker I Every Ate good. The waitress stopped by three times to ask if I was done I was savoring those eggs so long. There truly was a party in my mouth. And we're talking circa-1978, Studio 54, cocaine on the dance floor and sex in the balconies type party here.

Now all the eggs, cottage cheese, fruit smoothies and yogurt I've dined on since then haven't quite set off the same amount of oral fireworks as that initial plate of huevos, but that's OK. It's nice to finally be eating real food again, even if it is soft.

Next week it's on to solid foods. Somewhere out there is an unsuspecting yet very lucky chicken fajita nacho that will soon be attending the next great Mouth Party. And he better bring some hot and slutty friends.

Peace, love and scrambled eggs!