Monthly Archives: March 2011

You can't see David in this photo, but he's right behind that gazelle.

One of my buddies David saw me perform an excerpt of “Fat Fuck” at “Weird and Awesome with Emmett Montgomery” where I sang the praises of chia seeds, which Steve introduced me to a few months ago. After the show, David said to me, “I have to get me some of those.”

I thought he was bullshitting me, but every time we’ve hung out since then, David’s made several jokes about me being his chia dealer. Then last Sunday I received the following text from him as we were rushing out the door to meet him for dim sum: “Yo man can you break me off some of that chia?”

I guess it’s true: I have become his chia dealer.

So I responded: “First hit’s free.”

—

Last week, I received the following email from David–subject line: my mana is overflowing:

“NO, I am not talking about your favoritest side-effect. (Author’s note: This is a reference to the excerpt of ‘Fat Fuck’ David saw. Don’t get it? Use your imagination. Still don’t get? Well come see the show!) On Day 1, I couldn’t feel the chia at all.  Now it’s day 2, and I want to chase down a gazelle and sink my fangs into the flesh of its throat, rending bone and muscle with my terrible claws.

That’s normal, right?

I’m almost afraid of day 3…

Anyway, I’m digging this stuff, and anxious to start working out again.  As it happens, I’m going to be [at Hugo House on Friday.] I have two questions: 1) would you be available for lunch after that? and 2) could you hook me up with the chia?  I’ll pay.

also, 3) where can I find a gazelle?  So many questions, I want to TEAR INTO THEM ALL.”

Ever since Steve got me on chia, I’ve been telling everyone I know that it makes me believe I can change the world, or, as David says, chase down a gazelle and eat it. And trust me: he means this in the most positive way possible.

"I pity the fool who doesn't eat two tablespoons of chia seeds everyday." -Mr. T

Chia is a wonder “drug”–I’m putting “drug” in quotes because apparently now I’m a dealer, and I want you to know that it is not really a drug, and I am not really dealing chia –and, yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking: chia seeds are what make America’s least favorite novelty Christmas gift, the Chia Pet.

Chia seeds have so many positive effects on the body, which you can hear all about when you come see me perform the chia section of “Fat Fuck,” but to hold you over I’ll give you a couple: appetite suppression and hydration.

And the energy to tackle a gazelle.

Seat belts hate fat people.

The last episode of “Heavy” is a heavy one. Both heavies, Chad, a 509 lb. 27 year-old man in a committed relationship, and Sallie, 443.4 lb. 29 year-old single mother of one, have used food as a coping mechanism for so long that their lives have been severely complicated by their weight issues. However, Chad and Sallie, unlike several previous heavies, understand how far gone they are and know before they even arrive at “the facility” that they need to make drastic changes to their lifestyles for themselves and for someone else–in Chad’s case, his girlfriend, and in Sallie’s, her son.

Sallie has been fat for as long as she can remember. She was 150 lbs. in middle school, 250 in high school and now, as an adult, she’s almost 450 lbs. Sallie is so fat her weight is seriously impeding her life. She can no longer buckle her seat belt because of the width of her stomach, which is so large it presses into the steering wheel, making it difficult for her to make turns while driving. Outside of the car, her weight has become even more of a problem, constantly causing her pain in her knees, back, ankles and chest. Sallie’s son Sam, a 150 lb. 8-year-old, is learning from his mom’s bad habits, too, eating man-sized portions. “I’m the biggest person in my whole class,” he says. Sallie has become even more hopeless about her weight after her father’s suicide five years ago, which she didn’t see coming. She didn’t want to cry. She and her mother never talked about it. Sallie just internalized the grief, questioning if she loved him more would that have saved his life. Without the coping skills to manage her grief, Sallie ate to soothe the pain she felt. She says, “If I feel sad about it, I go eat me something and feel better.” And then: “I’m going to eat myself to death and end up killing myself in a different way.” Sallie knows she needs to make a change–not just for herself but for her son Sam, too.

Pizza: Like Therapy, Only Cheaper

Chad began using food as a coping mechanism at an early age. His father was an alcoholic and a drug addict who was physically abusive towards Chad and his mother, and the marriage ultimately ended when his father threatened to burn his mother alive in their house. Chad grew up without a father figure, but yearned for one so deeply, to have someone to “define who [he] was as a man.” Without one, Chad began coping with his problems the way his mother did: by eating. This is very close to my own fat story, which I’ve written about in pieces over the last few months that I’ve blogged about “Heavy.” (And even more so in “Fat Fuck.”) Basically, my father left my mother before I was born. Around when I began going to school, I realized something was different. While everyone in my school had a mom and dad, I just had a mom. Once I understood my father was gone, I wanted a father figure, but never really had one, so, just like Chad, food became my father figure because it was always there for me. Now, as an adult, Chad’s coping mechanism has turned into a lifestyle he can no longer sustain. His girlfriend Laina, who Chad wants to marry, isn’t willing to stand by him while he eats so much, and their relationship has reached a breaking point after she sent him a long email explaining how she feels. Laina writes, “I can’t continue loving someone who’s killing himself, and if you continue like you are doing, you will die. I can’t get myself into something that I know will end in tragedy. You have to do something now about your weight if you want to keep me.” Wow. And that’s not even the whole email. Chad has to do something about his weight if he wants to keep Laina, “the love of [his] life.” He says, “I just don’t want [to be fat] anymore, and I’m willing to fight… to just have a different life.”

Fuck you, yoga ball.

At “the facility,” Chad and Sally experience a reality check at the weigh-in, which Chad describes as “looking the monster in the eye.” He’s scared when he finds out that he’s over 500 lbs. and sets a goal of losing 150 lbs. over his six months at “the facility.” Sallie has the same experience. When she weighs in at 443, she utters one word: “Whoa.” She thought she was 380-390 lbs. and seems almost defeated before she even begins, confessing, “Had I seen that at home I probably would’ve went and ate something.” But Adam (Who, I’ll admit, is growing on me–and Adam, if, by chance, you are reading this, I’m sorry I called you a porn store clerk several posts ago.) puts it into perspective when he says, “That’s the highest it’s ever going to be because we’re going down from this point on.”

Usually, I write about the experiences at “the facility” separately for each of the heavies, but since Chad and Sallie worked so well together, I’m going to recap their experiences collectively. When they first begin the cardio-boxing sessions, dreaded by previous heavies, and weight training, Chad and Sallie are clearly out of shape and unable to keep up (best exemplified by Sallie eating it–twice!–while doing push-ups on a yoga ball); however, despite their physical limitations, both Chad and Sallie fight hard during their first week, losing 22.4 and 8.8 lbs. respectively. Their initial challenge doesn’t come from the exercise–as hard as it is they are both going at it–but from the food, which they are not used to eating. Before leaving for “the facility,” Chad and Sallie lived on fast food (Chad says he regularly eats 7500 calories in a sitting, which you can do if you’re Tim Lincecum, but unfortunately, Chad cannot throw a fastball comparable to “the Freak.”), so reducing their caloric intake to 1200-1500 calories per day is a difficult adjustment. But Robert Moore, the president of Hilton Head Health, gives Chad and Sallie some straight talk, saying, “Everything you look at you’re going to be judging based on how much does it take to get this off.” This is exactly what I think whenever I walk down the ice cream aisle at the grocery store, pining for some Haagen-Dazs.

Don't even look at me, Haagen Dazs.

But losing the weight isn’t only about changing bad habits, it’s about getting at the emotional issues that cause them to rely so heavily on food. Sallie is ready to deal with her own father issues; however, Chad isn’t. When I first began losing weight, I was a lot like Chad–I wasn’t ready to deal with the issues around my father either. I was just scared I was going to die and knew I needed to make a change. It wasn’t until I had lost about 100 lbs. and still felt depressed that I understood there were underlying issues I needed to address, which is when I first opened up and started the process of letting-go of the anger I had for my father, a man I never met, a face I’ve never even seen. Chad is where I was about ten years ago: in denial, and with the help of Sallie, he begins to see that he, too, has some letting-go to do. There’s a great scene where Chad and Sallie are doing cardio together, and Beverly is pressing them to open up about their fathers. Chad pushes back and says he doesn’t want to talk about his and doesn’t think he’s missing anything. But Sallie calls him on it, saying, “You really should re-think that… because you gotta forgive… and once they’re gone, they’re gone.”

At the halfway mark, Chad and Sallie have lost 79.6 lbs. and 80 lbs respectively and are amazed by what they are physically capable of, like biking, running and kayaking, activities they hadn’t ever been able to do. Then their families arrive, and Chad and Sallie are reminded why they are working so hard at “the facility.” After some family time (Sallie and her adorable son Sam play mini-golf and bike together, and Chad, Laina and his mother look through family albums, spurring Chad to consider reaching out to his father.), Chad and Sallie are even more committed and begin training for the annual beach bum triathlon, a 500-meter swim, a 6-mile bike ride and a 5K run, like, all at once. For the next month, Chad and Sallie train together, swimming, biking, running and building strength through weight training, and by the morning of the race, they’re both noticeably slimmer–and nervous, but their goal is simple: finish. Chad starts off strong swimming through a school of jellyfish before making it to the  6-mile bike ride. Sallie paces herself, and when she hits the 5K, the final part of the race, she catches Chad and passes him, finishing in one hour and 58 minutes with Chad four minutes behind her. After the race, they’re exhausted, yet happy. Chad and Sallie accomplished something they both never believed they could, and Chad summed up the feat best, saying, “How many over 400 lb. people can say they are a triathlete? I’m one of them.” Then Chad did something else he never believed he would do six months ago: he called his father, starting the process of repairing their relationship.

At the final weigh-in, Chad is 368.4, a total of 140.6 lbs. lost, and Sallie is 306.8, a total of 136.6 lbs. The funny thing is: you can see Sallie wants more. She’s proud, but not completely happy. Before she even leaves Hilton Head Health, I know she’s going to stay beastly when she gets home.

And Sallie does. At the follow-up four months later (I’m still not writing about “the big reveals,” but I’ll compromise: if A&E brings back David Richardson, I’ll start writing about them next season. This commenter is with me. What about you?), Sallie has lost another 40 lbs., and her son Sam has lost 10. They completed a 5K together, too. And in the four months since the episode was filmed, Chad has lost 22.4 lbs., and he and Laina had their dream wedding. He’s still working on the relationship with his father.

In the new format, Chad and Sallie are the most successful heavies. I’m looking forward to the follow-up episode next Monday on A&E. (A&E, I’m already shilling for you, and I’m not even on the payroll. Holler. At. Me.)

Like Sallie says, “I’m not stopping here.”

I will run the 5K, but I won't do it in a sumo diaper.

Steve sent me the following email recently–subject line: running:

“if this fat fuck can run a marathon, a 5K should be a skip through the
park for you.

http://running.competitor.com/2011/03/news/400-pound-sumo-wrestler-completes-marathon_23451”

The fat fuck in question is a 400 lb. former sumo wrestler who completed the  Los Angeles marathon a couple of weeks ago, putting him in the Guinness Book of World Records for being the heaviest man to finish a marathon.

Wow.

So I guess that means I have to do this 5K. Sign me up, Steve!

This is what vitamin D does to me.

My good friend Kate Lebo, who blogs about pie and poetry at Good Egg, got hooked on Vitamin D because of me. She writes: “Brian swears he has twice the energy he used to, and the pace with which he’s been blogging about Heavy, working on his one man show, and doing his usual magic at Hugo House seems like proof enough.”

True that.

Every day, I take 2,000-4,000 IUs of vitamin D, a vitamin B, which I showed some love over here, and a Men’s One multivitamin, which gives me burps that taste like carrots and makes my pee day-glo yellow, but sometimes you have to give a little.

In Seattle, the sun is a distant cousin you don't hear from enough.

I remember the night I evangelized about the powers of vitamin D to Kate well. We were at the Redwood drinking beer, but before I started in, I busted out a small bag of pills (No, there were no roofies on there.) and opened the hatch. The pills didn’t make my night of drinking any easier the next day, but they certainly help me get out of bed, making me more cuddly bear cub than velociraptor in the morning. (Coffee helps, too.) The Seattle weather can fuck with you on a deeply psychological level. For months at a time, you’ll believe the sun doesn’t exist, the main source of vitamin D besides a short list of foods that includes fish liver oils, beef liver and and sardines. (There’s some normal stuff, too.)

But vitamin D is the anti-drug, and I’m glad to hear Kate, who eats pie all the time but somehow still looks like this (She’s the one on the left.), is on the stuff, too.

Skinny people, I’m coming for you.

A&E, I have a Droid. I'll get right back to you.

After blogging about “Heavy” for the last two months, I cannot deny that I’m looking forward to the end of the season in a couple of weeks. If you couldn’t already tell from my posts, I’m far less enthused about the new format and really hope the producers bring back David, Britny and the old format, where the heavies spend one month at “the facility” and five months on their own integrating their old, fat lifestyles with their new, healthy livings. Either way, I’ll be blogging about “Heavy” next season, too (You heard that A&E? You need to contact me. Really.), but the season isn’t over yet. This week, we have two heavies, Mark, a 39 year-old 517 lb. soon-to-be-father, and Patty, a 59 year-old 312.8 lb. grandmother, who need all the help “the facility” can offer.

Mark began gaining weight when he was in the Army and was medically discharged because he was too fat. Now he’s married, and his wife is about to have a baby girl, but Mark is so fat he has to adjust his stomach “in order to do stuff,” which will make chasing around after a baby even more of a challenge. He is hard on himself, and his wife is hard on him, too, yet very supportive. Her father passed away a few years ago, and she doesn’t want the baby inside of her to grow up without a father. Mark’s wife wants him to be there to walk their daughter down the aisle, an experience she didn’t have, but she’s afraid her husband is going to die. Despite how much he weighs, Mark seems like he’s entering beast-mode before he even arrives at “the facility,” pledging, “I don’t want my child to know about fat dad. I want my child to know about healthy dad.”

Even if Patty's motorized scooter was pimped by Xzibit, she still can't walk because she's too fat.

Like Mark, Patty wasn’t always fat. When she married at 17, she was 88 lbs., but the weight came on after her son Nick died at 23. Since then, eating has become everything for her. “Food is comfort. Food is love. Food is always there. Food never ever lets you down. But… I have eaten myself into a chair.” Patty hasn’t eaten herself into any old chair though. She rides around in a motorized scooter and walks with a cane because she can’t stand for long periods of time without immense pain. All she wants is to be able to take walks with her grandkids, like normal grandma’s do, yet her weight has become such a problem that one of her sons doesn’t visit often because he can’t bear to see her in such shape. Patty is ashamed of the person she’s become and knows she needs to do something in order to improve her health. She puts it blankly, “I want my independence back.”

Mark arrives at “the facility” and warns Beverly that he has a goal: in six months he plans to run a half-marathon, his hometown’s very first. Beverly thinks he’s absolutely crazy, but Mark doesn’t waver, despite being shocked by his starting weight. He thought he was well under 500 lbs.; however, the realization of how far gone he is officially puts him in beast mode, and he loses 30 lbs. in his first week. Mark gets excited about the weight loss (There are a few great scenes of him infectiously pumped about his accomplishments.) and lets the momentum build. While Patty rides around on a bicycle, Mark is running faster than she can peddle. He’s running harder than you’d expect a 500 lb. man to run, and he doesn’t give up when his weight slows him down. Mark isn’t discouraged; he just works harder. Then Mark’s wife goes into labor, and he finally sees the reason why he’s been exercising–his newborn baby daughter named Tilly Claire. Twelve days later, Mark returns to “the facility,” but he’s a mess, breaking down in front of Johanna the therapist because he’s carrying so much guilt for having to leave his wife and newborn. But she quickly snaps him into focus by posing the honest question, “Do you think these weeks that you’re going to spend here before you go home are an investment in your daughter’s life?” Despite his struggles with feeling disconnected from his new family, Mark buckles down and continues to fight.

You're not the only one, Patty. Look at me ten years ago.

When arriving at “the facility,” Patty’s reaction to her weigh-in is the exact opposite of Mark’s. Rather than being inspired to lose it, she’s overwhelmed by the amount of weight she has to lose. (“How am I going to do this?,” Patty says.) When Patty first steps on the treadmill, she waddles like a duck–barely taking full steps as the tread goes slow. And I mean slow. But Adam the fitness director, who I called a porn store clerk several posts ago, broke the exercises down simply and made Patty feel at ease–and changed my view of him as a person. (Certainly, no easy feat, believe me.) It reminded me of the first time I stepped into a gym and how overwhelmed I was by the experience, too. I was 19 and almost 350 lbs. I had never lifted a weight in my life, so when I saw the meatheads pumping iron, I knew I couldn’t keep up. I ended up on a treadmill, walked for an hour and when I got off I could barely keep my balance. Soon after, I enrolled in a weight training class; during my first week, I vomited after every work-out. Patty’s struggles are completely understandable to me, so when she breaks down and says, “I’m scared,” I want to tell her–you’re not the only one. But Patty’s down on herself, only losing 15.8 lbs. after 70 days. She’s feeling hopeless, “like a failure,” she tells Beth the therapist. She carries so much guilt over how unhealthy her children are, though it all stems from losing one son to drugs and having a 41 year-old in rehab. That son, Mike, visits during her stay because he wants to make amends and feels he can help Patty with her own addiction, food, which Patty admits filled the void in her life due to the absence of her son. Having Mike at “the facility” helps her turn the corner and she begins dropping weight at larger increments. Within a couple of months, Patty ditches her scooter and begins walking without her cane.

"Fat, you're fucking out!" -Kenny Powers

At the final weigh-in, Mark’s face has clearly shrunk, making him look a little bit like Kenny Powers in a bandana, and when he steps on the scale, the number says it all: Mark weighs 357.4 lbs., a total of 159.6 lbs. lost. Though Patty started slow, the results are visible when she steps on the scale, too, weighing-in at 247 lbs., a total loss of 65.8 lbs. Patty feels “awesome” and is armed with knowledge about nutrition and exercise and is ready to take it into the real world. “I didn’t want to live the way I was living and now I don’t have to anymore.”

I don’t normally write about “the big reveals” since “Heavy” went to the new format, but I’m making an exception for this episode because Mark’s big reveal was doing a half-marathon, and as a fellow fatty preparing to run a race, I think he deserves to have his story told all the way through. While he doesn’t run the whole way (There’s some walking and jogging.), Mark completes a half-marathon, 13.1 miles, a distance a lot of skinny fats couldn’t walk, and after he completes the race, Mark puts the last six months in perspective saying, “It’s not the end at all; it’s just the beginning.”

At the four-month follow-up, Mark has lost an additional 30 lbs. and has run another half-marathon. Patty, on the other hand, has struggled to maintain her weight loss, making her the first heavy in the new format to not at least keep the lost weight off.

Sounds like Patty needs a visit from David Robertson.

"The Full Lincecum" in all its calorie-rich glory

This is what I thought when I read about San Francisco Giants pitcher and Seattle-area native (Renton represent!) Tim Lincecum’s “normal” order at In-N-Out Burger, the California-based burger chain whose food has been known to make people do crazy shit: three double-doubles (So six quarter-pound beef patties total.), two orders of fries and a milkshake, dubbed “the Full Lincecum” by ESPN writer Jim Caple.

I’m not bitter about Lincecum’s diet. Of course, I wish I could go back to my super fat days and stuff down a meal like that, but I wouldn’t want to pay the consequences. Lincecum, on the other hand, doesn’t face those problems. (Now here’s where that bitterness comes in…) He’s the same height as I am, only he struggles to maintain a weight of 168 lbs. I haven’t been 168 lbs. since middle school.

I was the same weight as Tim Lincecum...when I was in middle school.

Which is why this post is titled “Fuck You, Tim Lincecum.” Because, really, what kind of animal can eat a 3,000+ calorie lunch regularly and be underweight for someone his height–our height?

Oy.

Lincecum “suffers” from high metabolism. His body converts food into energy at a much higher rate than normal, permitting him to win two Cy Young Awards and a World Series ring on the diet of an overweight frat boy, yet another reason why he’s nicknamed “The Freak.”

If my metabolism were a San Francisco Giants' player, it would be Kung-Fu Panda himself: Pablo Sandoval.

Unfortunately, my metabolism is more Pablo Sandoval than Lincecum, meaning I struggle to keep weight off, not put it on. People with low metabolism often are this way because of heredity, but sometimes low metabolism can be caused by not eating the right foods, like nutrient-rich meals and complex carbohydrates, a lack of exercise, illness or, worst of all, a thyroid problem. In my case, it’s hereditary–McGuigans run large and, sadly, don’t shrink in the wash.

But having low metabolism doesn’t mean your SOL. You can do a few things to help your body burn calories faster. Here are a few suggestions that will make you more like “The Freak” than “Kung-Fu Panda”:

1) Breakfast. If your mother hasn’t already told you, it’s the most important meal of the day, but if you’re anything like me, you probably don’t always have lots of time in the morning. My solution? A banana, chia seeds and either multi-grain Cheerios or on work-out days an Oh Yeah! protein bar. (Yes, the brand is called Oh Yeah!) Whatever you do, eat something in the morning with protein and complex carbs to get your system moving; otherwise, your body begins to break down muscle.

Fuck what mom says. Brian McGuigan says you should eat breakfast every morning. You heard!?

2) Don’t starve yourself or skip meals. I used to think if I ate too much one night that I could just starve myself the next day and it would be even. Not only is this terrible for the body because it sends the system into starvation mode, but it creates a cycle of binging and starving that could turn into an eating disorder.

3) Exercise. Exercise speeds up your metabolism by burning calories at a faster rate. Double bonus if it’s weight training because it builds muscle, and the more muscle you have, the more calories you’ll burn.

Chug one per day. I dare you!

4) Water. The energy burning process of metabolism requires water. So drink up–and way more than the puny eight eight-ounce servings everyone tells you to drink. I shoot for a gallon per day. If you can do that, I’ll be impressed, but be warned: you’ll have to pee… A LOT!

5) Vitamin B. I started taking vitamin B supplements about a year ago because it helps convert food into energy–exactly what you need when you have low metabolism. Plus, it’s a vitamin that has my initial, which makes me feel a little special.

These are the basic steps you can take to jump-start your metabolism. You might not win a Cy Young Award–or even be able to eat “the Full Lincecum” without regrets, but you’ll, at least, help turn your body into a champion.

Tim isn't the only one.

So far this season “Heavy” has taken on diabetes, child abuse and abandonment, various stomach and lymph-draining surgeries and emotionally-driven eating disorders, but in episode 9, we get two heavies, Tim, a 4’2”, 240.2 lb. 33 year-old dwarf, and Stacia, a 435.2 lb. 36 year-old married woman, whose health issues and physical limitations have made their weight loss even more immediate than some previous cast members.

Tim’s weight problems are causing a variety of health problems for him, including sleep apnea, acid reflux, borderline diabetes and narcolepsy, as well as practical issues–his stomach is so large he has to roll himself off of the couch. He can’t find a job. He can’t find love. (He met a woman online, but the relationship fell apart when they met.) And, worst of all, Tim has become so large for someone his size–he’s three times the ideal weight for his height–that his fat is putting pressure on his vital organs, increasing his risk of death. Like every other heavy, Tim’s weight has gotten out of control for a reason:
when he was 16, his mother, who he admits was his “rock,” his brother’s girlfriend and he were in a car accident. Tim’s mother died instantly. Food quickly became Tim’s support system, replacing the bond he had with his mother, and seventeen years, he could lose his life, too. “I am bigger round than I am tall. I am over five-feet wide.That’s scary,” Tim says when he finds out his measurements.

You may not be hungry after a Hungry Man Dinner, but you certainly won't be healthy. This meal is 1,020 calories, 57 grams of fat and 1,570 milligrams of sodium.

Stacia wasn’t always fat, but began eating as a method of coping after being molested for six years beginning when she was six years-old. Now as an adult, her eating has spiraled out of control, limiting her everyday life to the point where she can no longer function. She is unable to sleep in bed because it’s uncomfortable for her to lay on her back. Stacia isn’t able to have sex with her husband, with whom she has an odd codependent relationship. He takes care of her, feeding her a steady diet of fast food, take-out and microwaveable meals, and they enable each other’s overeating. Stacia has even had to sacrifice her true love, theater; she can no longer perform or direct, much less attend shows because she can’t fit in the seats. “This fat has become my identity,” Stacia says at rock bottom, a feeling that also motivated me to begin losing weight, too. Like Kevin, or, Big Kev, of episode 5, I was Big B–among other, less flattering nicknames for fat people (Chunk, Piggy and Gomer Pyle come to mind.)–for most of my life, a title that I was both proud of and embarrassed by because it turned a physical attribute into, at the very least, a job title. And, eventually, it became my identity when, in college, I could no longer walk around campus without a towel to dry the sweat from my body, among other restrictions–which you’ll hear more about if you come see “Fat Fuck”–like Stacia.

William Golding's "Lord of the Flies" did me no favors in middle school.

Upon arriving at “the facility,” Stacia and Tim are surprised by the portion-sizes of their meals as well as their complete lack of fitness, quickly realizing how far gone they were. Initially, Tim is limited because of his size and his health issues (There’s a great scene where he is completely asleep on a mini-cardio machine.), but Stacia’s eagerness pushes him. Although they both have physical limitations, the two clients both accept the regimen early on and don’t put up a fight with the trainers, unlike every other episode where there’s always one heavy who doesn’t buy-in whether it’s because their emotional issues are so deep or the salad is getting on their nerves. After they both finish the first week losing 12 lbs. each, Stacia and Tim are fully invested in the regimen and don’t look back.

While Stacia has more than two hundred pounds to lose, much of her work occurs in therapy with Beth Leermakers. Stacia has little confidence or self-worth, stemming from her molestation as a child, which has caused her to believe she’s “damaged.” She doesn’t take care of her body because she doesn’t believe she “deserves” to be healthy, yet she understands that food “has put [her] life on hold.” Working with Beth helps Stacia get at the reasons for her weight issues, and after participating in a food burial with Tim, Stacia not only buries the food that was killing her but “the child that was lost, the innocence that was lost.” Gaining control back over her life and her decisions, Stacia begins to question everything in her life, including her relationship with her husband, who visits at the three-month mark, shortly after Stacia, fighting back tears, has a breakthrough, “I’m going to keep on pushing and doing the best I can…because I know now that I deserve to be happy.” Before her husband even arrives, I have the feeling that Stacia is ready to move on, and that becomes clearer when he tries to work out with her and has to stop because he’s going to vomit. Stacia knows her husband loves her, but now she’s finally able to love herself. Over the course of the six months, Stacia transforms into a different person. She really feels she’s “back to being me” and wants more.

The steak on your plate should be about the size of a deck of cards.

Tim’s progress follows a similar curve as Stacia. As he addresses the issues that are the cause of his unhealthy relationship with food, Tim understands the reasons for his problems and begins to make the changes. The fact that he is physically able to do more only builds Tim’s confidence, too, and after finally taking on his greatest fear, swimming, in honor of the seventeen-year anniversary of his mother’s death, with the help of Beverly (She’s still no David Robertson, but I’m really beginning to love this woman.), Tim is victorious. He begins pushing himself harder and hits his stride, losing more over his final three months than in his first three, culminating in a vicious beach work out that Tim most certainly was not able to do when he arrived.

At the final weigh-in, Stacia’s transformation becomes more evident when she steps on the scale and clocks in at 286.4 lbs., a total of 148.8 lbs, basically the size of an average-sized woman. Stacia still has a whole other woman to lose, but she’s on the right path and now has the tools to change her life. Tim’s final weigh-in isn’t quite as drastic as Stacia’s, but, for his height, is pretty phenomenal. He weighs-in at 173.4, a total of 66.8 lbs., and, like Stacia, Tim is a new person, too, declaring, “I’m going to look like a mini-God.”

I’m still not sold on “the big reveals,” so we’ll skip to the follow-ups: Tim has maintained his weight loss and was able to find a job when he returned to Arizona. Stacia has lost another 15 lbs., and, after many attempts to reconcile, has separated from her husband. But I don’t think that’ll slow her down. Both Stacia and Tim want more from life, and I think they’ll get it.

As long as they keep believing in themselves.

My nipples have been sore for weeks now. I know what you’re thinking:

I am not pregnant.

Nor am I PMSing or going through menopause.

No, this is not my nipple, but there is a striking resemblance.

No, I’ve just been cardio-ing my ass off, so I can turn my 95% sure I’m going to run this 5k with Steve into 100%, but before I can do that first I need to get into running shape, which apparently means I must first develop calluses on my nipples. Steve says I need some running shirts, but I’ve been rocking my Under Armour, and it feels like it makes the pain worse.

In fact, after doing an hour of cardio on Saturday, my nipples were bleeding–not gushing blood, more like a hangnail ripped too low on the cuticle that bleeds slowly.

And, yes, comparing my nipples to hangnails creates an image that is as disgusting for you as it is for me.

So, what’s a non-pregnant man to do?

I'm working on my twirl.

Pasties? While potentially upping my sexy quotient, I’m sure the twirling tassels will become all too distracting for me to focus on my cardio.

Band-aids? This is what Steve used to do until one day while jogging back to his apartment after a vigorous run, he noticed people staring and smiling at him. He had sweat so much his t-shirt became see-through, putting his band-aid covered nipples on display for all of Capitol Hill.

If you couldn’t already tell from this blog, I have little shame; modeling my band-aided nipples isn’t a worry for me. It’s what tearing the band-aids off will do to my luxurious chest hair that I fear. Next!

Sports bra?

Uh.

No.

So, runners of the world, what should I do? Help a fat man out.

Steve looked something like this.

I was over at Steve’s place taking some, um, “compelling” photos of him for my performance at Weird and Awesome with Emmett Montgomery last week.

After the photo shoot, Steve got dressed and began prodding me about the 5K. “When will you know if you’re in?” he asked as forcefully as a topless man in a Capitol Hill apartment with the blinds closed could ask. He reminded me that he’d be my mule, which, given the context–him, half-naked, and me with a camera telling him to “show me his angry face”–didn’t sit so well with me.

We fat people stick together, you know.

“The run is for women, too. Of all shapes and sizes,” Steve continued, which I thought was his way of working the cause-angle; by running this race, we’d be afforded some kind of karmic retribution. Either that, or he reasoned: Brian’s fat, so by default, he has to support other fat people.

But then Steve followed up with, “So there will be lots of ass.”

——-

Less than an hour after leaving Steve’s, my phone buzzed with an email. The subject was “Weight Vest.” It read:

“There’s tons of weight vests on amazon

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dsporting&field-keywords=50+lb+weight+vest&x=0&y=0

But they’re pricey. Any rich fools read your blog?”

I still think it would be cooler if we used a midget instead.

Before I left Steve’s, we had been talking about how we could make the 5K more “even” since I currently outweigh him by about 60 lbs., only run for buses and will most likely vomit before, during or after the 5K. (If I pull off the trifecta, I should get some kind of prize; don’t you think?)

First, I suggested a backpack, but Steve was worried about his back, which eliminated my second suggestion, “midget,” before I said it. I offered it anyway because Steve was drinking whiskey, and I figured if there was a time to convince him to run a 5K with a midget strapped to his back, it was now. No dice.

Steve brought the suggestions into reality when he admitted that he thought about running with hand weights but didn’t want to look like a tool. I didn’t argue. What’s worse–being the guy running with hand weights or the guy trying to keep up with the guy running with hands weights?

And then, it dawned on me: a weight vest.

I didn’t think Steve would go for it, and then I received his email.

It looks like this is actually going to happen.