fatty. no good for you.

8Jan/122

Reality Sets In

This was August 29, 2011.  307.2 pounds.  I ate Sparta, and then some.

Less than one week after my divorce, a friend tried to get me on the right track by challenging me to a weight loss contest.  The goal was to see who could lose 10 pounds the fastest.

If I were to win, she'd send me some criminally sexy pictures of herself.  If she were to win, I'd fill her Starbucks Rewards card with $25.00.

Since I am me, a thirty-something white male stuck in arrested development, and there were tits on the line, I started myself on a powerful weight loss supplement that I'll leave unnamed.  For the days that followed, I ate next to nothing, and I felt like I was just asking for a heart attack.