MY WORLD:
When I used to wait tables there was a waitress, Sharon, who would ALWAYS talk to me about how, one day, she was going to reach a point in her life where she’d just eat whatever she wanted all the time. I used to hope that I would someday reach such guilt-free recklessness with my diet. Forget financial stability, finding a lifelong companion, or making a positive impact on ANYBODY else. THIS (being an unapologetic fatso) was an achievable goal! “DAD! I’M GONNA BE SOMEBODY!”
This achievement continues to allude me. Yesterday, I ate a medium-sized bag of peanut butter stuffed pretzels (MAJOR YUMMO ALERT) and had to immediately resort to “it’s okay, Jimmy, you ran yesterday and had to deal with a moderately annoying client today”-self talk. The path towards happy-chubba-bubba-land is lined with unflattering pictures, “bad angles” and magazines that use something called an airbrush that I, A) do not know what the H it is, and B) DO NOT HAVE FUCKING ACCESS TO. Brave little soldier that I am, I continue the climb.
I got a little chubby like 2 years ago (not huge, but I’m short so I went from short-normal to sturdy mini-fridge). I had been working a job I hated, and medicated with chips, heavy beers and NOT going to the gym (I reached a point where I had convinced myself that not going to the gym was good for me to do because the successful writers I read would always talk about how out of shape they were. It was a blissful delusion). I had run a marathon the year prior and decided that running that far in one day would keep me thin for the rest of my life.
My weight slowly rose according to the buttons on the waist of my pants (“We lost a lot of men that winter”–The story of Jimmy’s Winter 2015 Pants Buttons). The decision had been made that I was a 31 waist for the rest of my life, so buying bigger pants was out of the question (if you can squeeze into them, they fit). I remember sitting in my car, looking down at my thighs and thinking they were going to explode through my pants at any second. It would be like when you rip open that cardboard tube of pillsbury biscuits and you almost hear the dough thank you on it’s way out. Bending over was out of the question (if I had discovered a solid gold bar on the ground, I would have had to debate whether trying to bend down was worth risking the last pair of 31 pants that had yet to bust).
Times were so dark that not only did I go pants shopping….not only did I go pants shopping at Old Navy….but I went pants shopping at Old Navy, bought size 34 pants AND got silently mad at the VP of Operations when she referred to Old Navy’s measurements as “vanity sizing”. If you don’t know what “vanity sizing” means (I did not, and I wish I never had…stop reading if you’re where I was in 2015…this is about to ruin the dark, twisted fantasy that you’re living in) it’s basically a lie. “Vanity Sizing” means that an Old Navy 34 is a real life, like 36-ish. Chubbos like 2015 me go in to Old Navy, buy size 34 pants and tell the people around them that “it’s not that bad!” I don’t understand how companies can lie about MEASURABLE statistics, but I also don’t hate that Old Navy has done so successfully.
My wedding and some VERY unfortunate pictures shamed me back into the gym.
I’ve gotten back into running and size 32/33 pants (acceptable…I was kinda’ lying when I said 31s earlier. I fit into a pair of 31s for like a week after college. It was V cool.) But unhealthy food is SO EFFING GOOD that chubby Jimmy is always lurking in the snack aisles, and he CAME OUT TO PLAY yesterday.
My thing now is that I’ll eat healthy Monday-Thursday. Friday is a “sure I’ll have a sandwich and chips” day, then Saturday and Sunday I take a heavenly dumpster dive into the world of pizza and fries (if baby Jesus doesn’t hand me a plate of fries on my way into heaven, I’m turning RIGHT BACK AROUND IN HIS FUCKING FACE). So Monday-Thursday, I eat pretty much the same thing: Banana and whole wheat english muffin for breakfast (nana and muffy!), a protein bar and small bag of nuts for lunch, workout, then ONE beer with a dinner consisting of a meat and veggie.
Yesterday, though, I went into an account that had a big bag of Salt and Vinegar Kettle chips sitting behind the bar (I sell beer which means I’m in my car, a bar, or a grocery store pretty much all day. I cannot escape carbs). I was supposed to be convincing this bar owner that he should carry the beer I sell, and all I could do was stare at this bag of Salt and Vins (Salt and Vinegar Kettle Chips are my KING CHIP. I recently did a Top Ten Chip List with my friends and these wear the crown).
When I went into Walgreens to buy my protein bar, almonds and water I lusted for the chip section (it’s a naughty place…and I’m a naughty boy). I refused to directly pass the chip aisle for fear of not coming out alive. So I got to the “nutrition” aisle of walgreens and bought my clay-flavored protein slab. However, Walgreens did a nasty thing and moved peanut butter stuffed pretzels directly next to the nuts section. I walked by the pretzels and, literally, gasped. I’m not joking, I sucked air in as if to say “oh my my”. After shooting a few flirty smirks and eyebrow raises towards these lil’ cuties, I composed myself enough to grab my small bag of plain almonds and continue playing “hard to get” with these nasty babies (peanut butter stuffed pretzels, Jimmy. They’re peanut. butter. stuffed. pretzels. Jesus).
38 minutes later I pulled into the next Walgreens I saw, bought a bag of peanut butter stuffed pretzels and ate the entire bag in my car, panting like a malnourished dog the entire time.
As I sat in traffic on the drive home, all I could think about were those fucking Old Navy pants. Like I would get home and hear them chuckling in my closet. I bargained that I could make up for those wasted calories by working out harder than I planned and not drinking my ONE beer that night. TIP: Negotiating calories with yourself is something fun to do when you’re alone in your car during rush hour whilst thinking about opening the door to roll your fat ass under the biggest wheel of the oncoming Ford Astrovan.
If I could eat anything I wanted during the week without any of this psychological shrapnel, I’d probably go:
Breakfast: Breakfast Sandy–bacon, egg and cheese on a poppyseed bagel.
Lunch: A fried buffalo chicken wrap and fries.
Snack: Salt & Vinegar Kettle Chips…maybe a York peppermint paddy for that FRESH BREATH!
Dinner: Pepperoni Pizza. Duh.
Dessert: Ice-cream cookie (chocolate chip) sandwich.
What do you think of that, Sharon?
P.S. I drank a beer last night. Fuck it.
OUR WORLD:
“Will & Grace” and “Roseanne” are either back, or about to be back, on tv and it has me a-thinkin’. I’m not really a fan of either of those two shows because….uh….I don’t know, but I’m not. I would, however, like to see the following shows make a similar return (also, if you haven’t seen these…uh….stop being a stupid idiot and watch them):
“Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip”: Not many people remember this show because it came out the same year, on the same channel, directly after “30 Rock”. A 60-minute drama written by Aaron Sorkin about the world of a show like “Saturday Night Live”. Young, funny people with drug habits who are given fame and fortune = television gold. This show lasted one season THAT I LOVED. Sure, the comedy sketches within the show could have been better, but spitting on a show that featured Bradley Whitford reciting Sorkin lines is a DANGEROUS PROPOSITION my friends. This was like a candied version of “West Wing” and if you don’t like candy you can get the hell out.
“Oz”: This is a Bill Simmons-take that I couldn’t agree with more. I used to watch this show when I was in early-high school and it absolutely cemented me ranking “Going to Prison” as my number one fear in life. (I have had heated conversations with friends about how I would rather be dropped into the middle of the ocean with a bloody leg). “Oz” had super bad bad guys (J.K. Simmons can never pull off “cuddly, suburban dad” since this show) and V cool kinda bad guys (the All-State commercial guy is cool…but bad…but cool). Prison storylines on HBO are endless, so round up some Milennials to play new bad bad guys and V cool kinda bad guys, and you have a hit on your hands. If you cannot tell yet, I did have to go to film school to learn these terms of analysis. I’m working with a big toolbox here, guys.
“Friday Night Lights”: This show, more than any show in the history of television, just needs to go on forever. I think I had crushes on every single character at one-point throughout the show’s run. I grew my hair out to try to look like Tim Riggins (note: simply wishing you had movie-star hair does not give you movie-star hair). I bought the sunglasses thingy (crokeys?) that Coach Taylor wore around the back of his neck. I was nicer to my grandparents because Saracen was a so nice to his grammy. I think the reason I tell people I would move to Texas is because of this show (Austin is like too popular to be cool now, right? So, I have to be into like San Antonio?) This show makes you a better person. (Cue somber music…look at yourself in the mirror…you need to be better). Aside from making you a better person, we can all agree that while Kyle Chandler and Taylor Kitsch should be absolutely THROATING the box office, they are not and most likely (DUE TO NO FAULT OF THEIR OWN) never will. Therefore, I propose a new Hollywood rule: if a SMASH television show ends, but no one on the cast solidifies him or herself as a bonafide movie star in the 5 years following the show’s end, the entire cast must return to the show that made them stars for the rest of their lives. Deal? Good.
LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:
LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:
American people who pronounce “Bruschetta”, Broo-sket-ah.
MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT PROBABLY WON’T WIN:
Here’s the deal, guys. I’m having a REAL hard time. I place bets with two other dudes so that we’re always in the same boat. Ride or die guys. Unfortch, my picks have been EPICALLY HORRENDOUS since football season. Therefore, while I wrote yesterday that I wanted to pick the Celts (-7), I had to cede control of my bet to one of my Ride or Die guys; and he picked Villanova (-6) over Seton Hall.
Villanova won by 1 on OT. Celtics won by more than 20. Cool. V cool.
Needless to say, I am RATTLED.
Tonight, I hope to go with…oh sweet jesus PLEASE GIVE ME A WINNER…Cavs (-3) over Philly.
(My account currently at $3.49…I only make a deposit when I hit $0.00)
K bye.
Jimmy's Chair 