Women often get to make a big deal out of what they're "supposed" to look like. Unhealthy body image and stuff like that, being fed by magazines with smokes like Selena Gomez or whoever on the cover. Whatever skinny waif is popular at the moment. It's not dissimilar for dudes, I don't think. Or, at the very least, we're a lot less vocal about it. I always find myself looking at dudes who are in-shape and thinking "jeez, wish I looked like that." I've always regarded three actors as being the pinnacle of physical perfection: Christian Bale in American Psycho, Dolph Lundgren in Rocky IV and Brad Pitt in Troy. I disqualify anyone from 300 if only because it's uncertain just who had a spray-on six-pack and whose was legit.
As a journalist, I'm sort of surprised that I never actively asked any of my less in-shape friends about pressures to look and/or feel good. What that means is: all of my guy friends are in good shape. They do those Tough Mudder things you see people do on television. They go to the gym (a concept that genuinely confounds me is how people have time to go to the gym these days). What surprises me though is that they don't necessarily eat better than I do.
I recently had a physical and the doctor basically said "You know, you must eat really well," meaning that I ate plenty of veggies, fruits, etc.
"Not really," I said.
She went on to explain that although I had a slight vitamin D deficiency (which, apparently, everyone does), I was incredibly healthy for a guy my size. Now, I'm gigantic. I'm easily the biggest I recall being. I've lost weight in the past, good amounts of it, however; complacency typically sets in and that's that, I eat ten burritos and call it a day. Alright, not literally ten, but probably like three (along with something else).
The other day, I had a colonoscopy. AKA: a "lower endoscopy." Something scary happened while chatting with the anesthesiologist. She stated that she couldn't put me all the way out due to my weight and because of my minor sleep apnea. Concerned, I nearly cancelled the whole affair until my doctor came in and assuaged my fears saying (once the nurses left the room) "Don't worry, bro. I wouldn't let anything happen to you in there. Any discomfort and we're done."
Suffice to say, there was no discomfort. I was unconscious throughout the affair and only one polyp was discovered. Hemorrhoids were found, but according to the doctor, everyone supposedly has those, so I wasn't concerned.
The difficulty I have rationalizing is how good-looking I am, compared to the rest of my body. It's almost absurd. And it's time to do something about it. I turn 30 this year. 30 years of being overweight is more than enough. I've decided to take some relatively-absurd steps to achieve my weight-loss goal.
I am not the duck, but sometimes, I wish I was.
I don't feel weird speaking so frankly here. I'm bored with the inspirational bullshit weight loss blogs and articles I read. None of these people are terribly overweight. None. I know people who think they're out of shape and overweight and I'm like "Bitch, you crazy." I am the one out of shape. Not you.
I've decided that, in order to accomplish my weight-loss goals, I would engage in something relatively silly. I would only consume the food-replacement concoction known as Soylent for my meals. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. All Soylent. All the time. At the end of March, anyway, which is when the stuff will be available to the public.
Soylent was invented by a bunch of silicon valley dudes who I assume have Aspie's. That's just a guess, though I feel that like, 80 percent of silicon valley has Aspie's.
My main concern is that I genuinely love food. I love tastes. I love textures. I love food that is horrendously-bad for me. I haven't read anything online that indicates what happens when a fatty like myself engages Soylent as a meal-replacement/way of life. Everyone I've seen or read articles by that's taken the 30-day Soylent challenge has been your typical skinny hipster-type. I'm not skinny. Nor am I a hipster. Well, to some I am. Mostly my co-workers. Whatever. That doesn't matter. What matters is that no one who is considered morbidly obese has engaged Soylent on its own terms and written about it (that I know of).
So I will.
I'll also be introducing minor working out into the mix, like I did a few years ago when I lost around 90 lbs. I'll most likely be using a stationary bike that's been collecting dust in my garage, as well as a pair of 40 lb. dumbbells (they still call them that, yes?) that are collecting dust on the floor of my bedroom. The major aspect of the diet is that I'll be cutting all beef and sugar from my diet. Which is harder than it sounds.
The only aspect of Soylent that concerns me is that its supposedly incredibly healthy to chew. Literally chewing your food is something that mankind has adapted through the miracle of evolution as we've progressed to the modern era. To get around this, I thought maybe light snacking throughout the day would be key, however; according to VICE and Gawker articles (written by skinny hipsters), chewing (or not chewing, as the case may be) was a minor issue at best, so, maybe it won't be a big deal for me.
I'm also on the fence about engaging in a 15 or 30-day Soylent diet at least on the onset. A buddy of mine is talking about going halfsies on the stuff, so, we'd each be doing 15 days. He, of course, doesn't need to do it, as he's in great shape, but whatever, he's cool and wants to give it a go.
Now, the Soylent part of my experiment can't begin until the end of March, so, what I'm trying to do is trim a bit of weight before then. I've started using MyFitnessPal, an app on my phone to measure my calories and determine just how many a tall, handsome gentleman like myself should be consuming. As of right now, MyFitnessPal estimates that my daily calorie consumption should be 3100, which is awfully high, in my estimation. Unfortunately, with what I've had thus far today, I'm left with only around 600 calories left to burn before my day is complete. It's only 7:28 as of this writing, so, let's hope this works.