Fat Daddy Revealed

Easy girls...I'm keeping my clothes on!

That is not what this post is about. This post is about a huge development in my life and this blog since I began writing Fat Daddy Rants on June 11th.

I started this blog as an experiment that was as much about my professional development as it was about my weight loss. I wanted to learn how to launch a blog, attract readers, and maintain them. I decided to do something personal so my learning curve would not be on display for those I work with.

My struggle with weight seemed like the perfect fit.

And it was. In no time flat, I became hooked on so many of my fellow floggers. Using their energies to fuel my diet. Offering my own to help theirs. First it became a machine behind my weight loss. Then it became a major part of my life change.

But I never shared it. Not with anyone I know where I live. Not even my wife.

At first I did not tell her because it was really not a big deal to me. But it became a huge deal to me. My blog became the place where I could bare my soul. My anguish when I felt low. My self-hate when I struggled. My anger when I felt self-pity. My frustrations when she was not helpful. My guilt for causing her to struggle with weight. My wit when I wanted to be funny and push the envelope.

The more important Fat Daddy Rants became to me, the more I became concerned that I should have shared it. I had never hidden anything of significance from Elizabeth before. But at the same time, I feared a loss of freedom. Of feeling censored by the knowledge that she was reading my inner most thoughts. Things that might hurt her feelings. But things that are real to me just the same.

If I knew that she was reading them, it would change the way I write, and perhaps change how special FDR is to me. Several readers told me that their spouses were aware of their blog, but that they had an agreement that they would not read it. But I just could not bring myself to tell her. And so I didn't. And 6 months have gone by so quickly.

And it all went well as far as hiding went. The only issue I had was that Fat Daddy Rants appeard in the pull down menu on explorer on my laptop. I always knew that was a problem, but I could not figure out how to rid my computer of that cookie without losing others that contain important information. So I left it there. Even though I knew it was vulnerable to discovery. I did not do anything about it.

On Saturday I went Christmas shopping while Elizabeth and the kids stayed home wrapping presents and cleaning up the house. I was gone a little over 2 hours. On the way home, I called to let her know my ETA, and talk over my purchases. And that was when she hit me.

"I got on your laptop to get on facebook," she said. "Instead of typing it in I just used the pull down. And guess what I have been reading?"

Right then and there I knew.

"What?" I asked anyways.

"Fat Daddy Rants," she replied. "I love it. It made me laugh. It made me cry. I had no idea you were doing this. A lot pf people like what you write."

I was overcome with emotion. I just choked up right there on the phone, unable to say a word. I had to speak after she called my name three times so that she did not think I had been in an accident.

I told her I was sorry. She said she was sorry for reading it. That she did not know it was so personal to me. I told her we could talk about it more when I got home. And we did.

I explained how it had come to this point. How I came to hide FDR. That it was like a diary for me. A place where I could be honest and raw, and yet still be anonymous.

Our talk was cleansing both for me and her. She told me she was sorry for not understanding how big of a battle all of this had been for me...to lose this weight. That she had been self-centered and not really tried to help me.

I told her I was sorry for concealing it form her, and that I felt bad to hide something this big. That I felt bad because I knew that reading your blogs could help her as it did me, and yet I still did not share the magic.

And then...she asked me if I wanted her to leave Fat Daddy Rants alone. That she would do that if I wanted to keep it private. I told her that I did want to keep it private. But I could not help but ask the $64,000 question.

"Can you do that? With curiosity and all?"

"I think I can," she answered honestly.

And that is that.

I will be writing from now on with that understanding. Something has been lost. Something has been gained.

But on one level I am relieved to have the secret off my shoulders.

Fat Daddy Outed.

Fighting the Current

You'd think that this one would be no different from the rest. I have handled major holidays and events fairly well over the last four months. Over the last 32 weeks I have only posted a gain at a weekly weigh in once, and that was 10 weeks ago.

But I am facing one right now and I know it. And this was supposed to be a big week for me clearing the way for a "maintenance week" during the actual holiday itself. The plan was to hit the afterburners this past week, and then coast until I turned them back on around Januray 2.

But that is not how it worked out. I posted a new low of 231.6 on Tuesday. I could feel and taste the 220's...the next level. But after that things got messy.

It started out with a three day business trip with a little too much food and a little too little exercise. I figured I could handle that though as long as I rallied for the remaining 4 days of the week...but I didn't.

The wheels came off at the office Christmas party. I had a few beers. I just wanted them, and had not had any for a long time.(October in fact) But that opened the door to some pretty heavy duty snacking with the beer followed by a big dinner. All of this was compounded of course by no exercise.

I did rally on Saturday, eating well and running in the morning. But on Sunday I could not bring myself to move...at all It was all I could do to grab a shower and drag myself and the clan to church. For the entire day, every time my ass made contact with a surface, my eye lids drooped.

I took a nap. I went to bed early. I did nothing resembling exercise.

So now I will pay a price for a week where the bad eating days outnumbered the days that featured at least one episode of exercise. And with the big holiday weekend approaching, holding ground is hard enough let alone trying to post a loss.

I could throw out any number of excuses: too many special occasions, too little daylight, a little bout of the mopes, bike hurting my butt, it snowed preventing me from running...etc.

But in the end, all these things just add up to excuses. So now it is up to me to try to piece together a few good days before the fun begins. If I can do it, it may help me hold ground for next Tuesday's weigh-in.

If not, I will have to think up some new excuses...or trot out some old ones.

Fat Daddy Out

Taking Turns Pulling This Train

The other day I went back to the beginning. Back to the first posts I ever did. Back to the birth of the Fat Daddy. I re-read my old posts, and I re-read and digested the comments I received.

It sort of reminded me of that scene they always do in Survivor where the final contestants walk past the flags of their former castaways.

It also reminded me who helped me get on my feet. I remember those early days when I had no idea how to make anyone want to read what I was writing. I just went to a few blogs that grabbed me and read. Then I commented on their experiences. Then I sent them emails telling them how much I valued their honesty and advice. I asked for pointers on how to get readers for Fat Daddy Rants.

Read, comment and email folks who interest you was the main advice given, and it turned out to true.

But what I want to talk about today is how many of these people compelled me. From Tony P’s amazing accomplishment, to the Pixie’s long journey, to Carlos’s raw honesty to Jack’s passion covered by wit, to Susan’s amazing gifted writing to Lucas’ passion for life while getting into shape. And many, many more. People inspired, cajoled, dragged, laughed and cried with me and others throughout these months.

Many I grew used to. I saw them as mentors I could follow to help me get there. And I still do. And yet some have fallen away, not posting any more. And usually that spells trouble. We don’t normally skulk away when we are doing well.

Others have become mired in a stalemate. Not quite losing their will, but certainly losing momentum.

A few have hit their major goals, and moved out of flogger land. Something that seems kinda wrong to do, but admit it…none of us wants to be defined by being in the fat club.

Where am I going with all of this? That all of us are human and capable of falling. That those of us who have been followers need to take a turn pulling. That we need to go find those guys who have hit some harder times, and pick them up out of the mud and drag them back to safety. Back in here with us.

Where we can keep an eye on them. Help them get back on their feet.

Because to me, while this community may be a place where we can commiserate in our collective misery and struggles, the goal of this thing is to lose weight. To get healthy. To re-capture our lives. If all we ever do is take turns holding the Kleenex boxes for each other when we crash then this shit is just a big waste of time.

I am thankful for the times that others have hauled my ass up. Grateful for the encouragement. Appreciated the stone cold honesty. Sometimes I have been reluctant to dispense that kind of love because I do not want to preach. I understand the struggle. I have been the fat guy for more than 20 years. I have failed so many times in the past.

But I believe that we’re not just here to be a shoulder. We’re here to help pull this train home.

Fat Daddy Out

Fat Daddy Retirement Contest

Today will launch the Fat Daddy’s second ever contest. You may recall that the first contest prize was me giving away my prized and loathed stolen seat belt extender.

Well this one features a prize that anyone could make use of. The winner of this contest gets a $20 gift card to Dick’s Sporting Goods (dickssportinggoods.com). (yeah…I said dick…heh-heh…heh-heh…)

So whaddya have to do to win the coveted gift card?

You simply have to guess the day that we put the Fat Daddy Out to pasture. That we send his ass to the retirement home to sit in his fat Depends for all of eternity.

In other words…you have to guess the correct date that I stand before the scale god for the first time at 210 or below. If you guess that date right, I will send you the gift card.

Now here are the rules. No one can pick the same date. And dates are first come first served from when I receive them as a comment. I weigh in nearly every day. And once I get within range of 210, I will weigh every day. With one exception. You all know the Fat Daddy travels often on business. If I am on the road, I will weigh in the next morning after I return from a trip, so that adds a bit more element of chance to the game.

So there you have it. Pick the day we pack FD off to the home, and you get $20.

Fat Daddy Out

BMI BS

I recently wrote that I had received a lot of feedback from folks suggesting that I am no longer the Fat Daddy or that it might be time to retire the name at least. OK I love hearing that, but it is not time for a victory lap just yet.

But this topic leaves me with a lot of questions.

First will the Fat Daddy ever be dead? I don’t think so. The Fat Daddy is part of me to be sure. If there had never been a Fat Daddy, there never would have been a blog, and no miracle of will power, support, encouragement, kicks in the ass etc. that has made this diet the one that finally made me believe I could escape the fat prison cell I had constructed for myself and lived in for more than 20 years.

So I don’t think the Fat Daddy will ever die. But he could retire.

So the next question is when would FD consider filing his papers and hanging it up? Now I am speaking of retiring the name Fat Daddy, not retiring my blog. I can’t imagine doing that even though I admit that like most writers my creativity comes and goes. So the question is at what point would I decide that I had lost enough weight to send FD packing.

To figure this out I decided to be all scientific about it. I started this diet out with a doctor’s chart. It told me that at 6 feet tall, I should weigh 180 pounds. It said that anyone who weighed more than 100 pounds over their ideal weight would be considered morbidly obese. Fuck all! Did I ever hate that label. So much so that I aspired to just be plain ole vanilla obese. Aim high right?

So in thinking about this, I decided that I might shed the Fat Daddy Label when I am no longer considered obese. When I graduated from the big “O” to just “overweight.” So I went to one of those online computer BMI charts to find out what that weight might be. And that was when the train went off the tracks.

I am, at 231.6, still obese according to the chart. I accepted that, so I began to plug in lower weights to see when the label change would occur. It had to be close.

225? No.

220? No

215? No! Get the Fuck Outta Here!

It turns out I need to be 214 pounds. Damn folks. I've been thinking I would be at goal weight at between 200 and 210. How is it possible that I am obese at 215 pounds?

The more I researched the more pissed off I became. What the hell is normal? So I plugged in the 180 from the doctor’s chart, and it came back as over-weight!!! Normal accorsing to this hoo-ha, is between 132 and 178. How many 6 feet 132 pound dudes have you even seen? Does that sound like a normal weight?

That is when me and the whole BMI thing broke off our brief little soiree. But not before I had a little tantrum. I looked the website over from top to bottom.

Could this be a BMI chart for what is considered fat in Somalia?!? I could not find any evidence of that.

Maybe this was the diet plan for survivors of the Bataan Death March. But I could not find anything to support that either.

I checked to make sure I was looking at the chart for men…yep…I had that right.

As far as I could tell this chart was indeed portrayed to be an accurate depiction of what Americans should weigh if they aspire to be healthy.

So 180 is fat huh?

That is just plain Bull Shit!!!

At 180, I ran the quarter mile in 49 seconds! I played linebacker and running back, and was the fastest fucker on my high school team in all my apparent glorious fatness!

And all that time, having no idea I was a porker.

This chart is utter horse shit! (yeah I know…I switched types of animal shit…you have that power when you are on a rant, and I am on one)

132? Folks, if I weighed 132, you’d be able to read the labels on the back of my shorts through the front of my body. This chart is simply not credible. Perhaps this website was created by the diet and fitness product industry to make us all think we are fat enough to keep buying fitness and diet shit until we fall over from starvation. I don’t know.

What I do know, is that I will not be able to determine Fat Daddy’s retirement date based on this voo doo. So I think I am just going to have to pick some arbitrary number that strikes me as a good one.

One that challenges me to push lower yet. Also, a number that when I get there, I will truly feel that I have left the fat phase of my life behind. I might still want to drop a few pounds, but I will not think of myself as…fat.

So today, I decided that number will be 210. Don’t ask me why. You just saw the process I used to get here. The doctor’s chart says I should be 180. I can’t imagine being that low again. I don’t even know if I could…or would look right there. But I can see 210. It is just over the hill. A smidge less than 22 pounds from now.

I hit 210, and the Fat Daddy retires. And that sets up two more questions that I will cover another time.

Fat Daddy Out

Short Limb Disease

I got a lot of good comments back with advice on the issues with my backside and my recumbent bike.

I also received private emails with additional pointers. All of which I really appreciate.

For those who don't know, a recumbent bike is supposed to be MORE comfortable with its regular chair style seat as opposed to a bicycle seat. But it has not worked that way at all. From the beginning, the bike has been a literal pain in the butt.

Unfortunately it's not a matter of getting used to it. I have been riding this bike now for probably 5 months. I'm afraid the problem may be genetic.

You see the short limb disease runs in the Fat Daddy's family. I am 6 feet tall. But the majority of that height is packed into my upper body. My legs are rather short. I have a 29" inseam. When my weight got to its highest (367) I worries that my waist would double my length (58/29). It almost did. I got as high as 56.

Anyways the short limb disease is also an arm affliction too. And it is one that I hope the weight loss will have helped also. I have always had to buy shirts big enough to get around my chest and belly. The majority of those have long arms, leaving me with a Seinfeld-ish "pirate shirt". I am hoping that as I continue down into regular size clothing that I will be able to find shirts with the sleeve length that really fits. Not that the pirate shirt look is not cool or anything.

The bike problem, however, is not going away. I am afraid it's all a question of leg angles. Because my legs are short, when I put my feet on the pedals, it shifts all my weight back, totally focused not just on my ass, but directly on my tail bone.

I thought in the beginning that it was all just a question of too much weight for my body. That when I lost it, my ass would not hurt as much. But 121 pounds later, it still hurts. So I have concluded it is a victim of the short limb disease.

Which pretty well sucks because I shelled out some good scratch for the bike, and I am going to have to find alternatives.

Yet another sacrifice on the road to weight loss and getting healthy.

Fat Daddy Out

Bumps and Bruises

"Nobody told me there'd be days like these."...John Lennon

"If it comes easy it ain't worth a damn."...Woddy Hayes

"Damn my ass hurts!"...Fat Daddy

You all know by now that the secret to my weight loss has been 2,000 calories per and 2 workouts per day. The first workout is usually a 2.8 mile run. The second has been a ride on my stationary recumbent bike. When I do them both on a regular basis, the pounds just fall off. When I start slacking...things begin to slow up.

I have been in a sporadic mode ever since Thanksgiving. That was the day I reached the pinacle of my diet so far. The day I ran a 5K with my two oldest boys. That day, I became convinced that getting all of my weight off, keeping it off, and living an energetic life is indeed possible.

But since that day my motivation has dropped a bit, and I have really had to fight myself to stay active. This week, I vowed to change that. No matter how uninspired I feel, I set out this week to rediscover my lost nazi, and power through until my official Tuesday weigh-in marking 32 weeks. The plan was to get back to good eating and busting out two workouts per day.

The problem is that my bike is giving me fits. The problem is that it kills my ass.

Not my rapidly shrinking buns of steel mind you, but my tailbone. It works on me so bad that I have problems standing up afterwards. I have tried sitting on big cushions, changing seat locations to alter my leg angles. I don't know what to do except to stop riding the bike, or at least ride it maybe only 3 days per week.

I need an alternative if I am to keep up the two workout a day regiment. And that is hard with four kids and their schedules.

I have an eliptical that has a broken weld that I could get repaired. I have to do something. In addition to making my rides miserable, my ass really hurts. And it gets worse if I don't stay off the bike for a few days.

It's always something it seems. I have the formula down pat, but I need to make changes if i am going to continue. I can't say I agree with Woody on this one. I would love it if this shit came easy. Unfortunately it doesn't.

Fat Daddy Out