The Count

"Kneel before me mortal and weep your greasy tears."

For the past few months I've decided to get real about weight loss. Not that I was much of a chubster, after I got out of college and away from the endless buffet anyway. But I thought I could do better.

Exercise wise I'm about the same. 2 hours of cardio a week, 30 pushups a day. Nothing crazy. It's when I really started caring just how many calories I was eating a day that several things began to dawn on me.

1. I had done a lot of the leg work already drinking skim milk, eating only turkey or chicken, and slowing my alcohol intake to maybe one beer a week.

2. My best friends were traitors. Things like pasta were way more caloric than I wanted to believe and pesto. Dear lord, my beloved pesto managed to cram more than 3,000 calories into a jar barely bigger than my fist. It hurt then and it still hurts now. I might just throw the rest of it out...

3. I'm in the best shape of my life because I did it for me. My love life might be on a downturn but I knew that couldn't be the only reason to stick with my plan. I lost 12 lbs. and kept it off because I choose to live this way. It's also important to note that I'm not depriving myself of anything. I still eat massive bowls of pasta and red sauce at the end of long days. I can still buy a 5th of gin one week, budget my way around it and not need another bottle the next week. In other words I didn't go to war with my pudge. I diplomatically blitzed it into submission.

If this comes off as a humble brag then... ew, I'm sorry you read this. I put this up more for myself. So that if I fall off the wagon I have a carbon copy of a mindset that worked.  

Stay the course big Ned.