:: Fat pants ::

There was a time, about seven/eight years ago (shortly after I returned from my brief sojourn to northern Alberta), where I was as big as I've ever been. It was one of those things I didn't really notice at the time – it's always sort of a gradual fattening when you're in it.

But in reality, it wasn't that gradual. I left for university weighing, as best as I can remember, about 220-225 lbs. – still fat, but not that fat. Two years of school, 9 months on my own in Alberta, thousands of beers, plates of nachos, perogies, pizzas and fast-food burgers later, I came home and did not step on a scale until my own mom mentioned I'd gained a couple pounds.

Pffft, maybe a couple, I reasoned. But how bad could it be?

Well, pretty bad, as it turned out. I don't remember all the gory details – it was a long time ago, after all, plus I've probably blocked most memories of that era out – but I do remember that first scale reading: 288.5.

Yes, 288.5.

Shocked, sad, and angry I set out to fix the problem, and got down to about 240 or so, which is where I've basically sat ever since – yo-yo-ing between about 235 and 255. But before then, there was not a lot of clothes I could wear.

I couldn't shop at the mall for almost anything, and most of my pants were by necessity very forgiving. I never got to wear the clothes I wanted to wear because the clothes I wanted to wear never fit. It was, looking back, pretty painful.

At one point during my Alberta days, I was wearing size 44 jeans. (There may well have even been a 46 thrown in there, but I know 44 for sure). And let's be reasonable, it's hard to look good in clothes that big, no matter where they come from.

I still remember, once I got down to the 240-range about seven years ago, how happy I was when I went to American Eagle in the mall, and pair of size 38 jeans actually fit. It was the first time since I was about 19 that I was able to buy "mall pants." For most people, that's probably a nothing moment, but after you've come a little too close to 300 for anyone's liking, it was a good moment for me. There's a reason I remember it.

Last weekend, I had a similar experience at the same store.

My 38-inch jeans are all too big. Some still look OK, but without exception, I can take all of them off without undoing them. I take my belt off, and they just fall down to the floor. So off Christene and I went to the mall, on the search for cheap "transition" jeans (because I plan on getting skinner still). Well after a few aborted attempts at other stores, I went back to the ol' standby, American Eagle.

I picked out two pairs of 36-inch pants – one of which were straight legged (and for the fat or formerly fat folks out there, you know that straight-leg jeans are nobody's friend). To my surprise, they both fit. Sure, the straight-leg pair juuuust fit, but they fit nonetheless.

Thirty-fucking-six.

I haven't worn 36-inch pants since at least Grade 10.

I went home and immediately began rifling through my closet, trying a bunch of things on, and throwing most of them out. I tossed away about 6-7 shirts, a few hoodies and nine or 10 pairs of pants, including one pair of dress pants that were so baggy I told Christene "I could only wear these to MC Hammer's funeral." Another pair of old khakis, found at the back of the closet, had a 42-inch waist.

I packed em all up in a heap and put them in a garbage bag, bound for Value Village.

If I could've burned 'em, I would have.

Good riddance.

:: A big, fat problem ::

Recently, I bought a new pair of Volcom white/blue plaid-type shorts. They are of a certain inch size – the same size I always wear – yet they are slightly too big, thus requiring a belt.

I don't have a good belt to go with them though, so I've been searching for a white/black/blue/ belt to go with the shorts. Today, I found an appropriate belt – same size, also made by Volcom.

And it was too small. So I'm too skinny for the shorts, but too fat for the belt. 

Thanks a lot Volcom. Looks like it's a string of twine for me.

:: What a day ::

As any longtime reader of this blog knows, I've spent many a month (or six) trying to drop some pounds and get in shape, with varying degrees of effort and success. I know I've written about this plenty, and I'd link to those accounts if I could find 'em - I took a quick look, but I'm busy watching the Lions/Ti-Cats game, and I don't feel like putting any more effort into it.

Let me break it down for you: When I was 19, I decided to lose some weight. I was going to Kwantlen at the time, and also working a couple days a week. I still lived at home, so every day on my way home from school/work, I met my dad at the gym. I also watched what I ate pretty closely, and by Christmas of that first year I was down to 223 pounds - it was the lightest I've ever been in my adult life.

It went down hill after that, however. When I moved to Kamloops, I was busy with school, adjusting to a new town, and also adjusting to having to cook for myself. I also drank a few beers. As such, my perogy/beer/nacho/Wendy's diet did very little for my waist line, and this similar trend continued during my 9-month sojourn in Alberta (although you'd have to substitute A&W for Wendy's).

So when I moved home from Alberta six years ago (six years already... Jesus Christ!) I weighed a solid 285 pounds. At the time, when I first weighed myself, I was shocked - I had no idea I had gained that much weight. And I must've hid it well, because still to this day nobody believes me when I tell 'em I weighed that much. But I did.

The moment when I saw that number on the scale is still among the crappiest moments of my life.

For the next 8 months, I stopped eating fast food altogether, drank less and went to the gym 5 days a week. Eventually, I got down to 240, which I was pretty proud of - I mean, 45 pounds is pretty good for a guy who never really had a lot of willpower with regard to being in shape.

And that's pretty much the same place my weight has sat ever since - although I've yo-yo'ed up to about 250-255 from time to time. But by and large, 240-242 has been about average (or so I've assumed, because my clothes always fit. I actually stopped weighing myself years ago).

In the last three-four years I've tried many a ways to get that number down even more. On two occasions, I gave up beer for between 2-5 months. I didn't quit drinking though (I mean, c'mon!) - all this did was introduce my friends to Drinking-Wine-Straight-From-The-Bottle Nick, and Let's-Drink-Some-Gin-and-Black-the-Fuck-Out Nick.

And once there was also Drink-A-Bottle-of-Captain-Morgan-And-Puke-On Derrick's-Floor Nick. (Full disclosure: I don't remember this night at all. I also blacked out, and only heard of the puking story later that week. Apparently Katie cleaned it up - Sorry Kate.)

I also tried running - at the gym and outside - and I also did the no-carbs thing for 2 months, which didn't bring with it great returns.

Nothing worked. Until about 6 weeks ago, when I tried again, with a new program and plan. Over the past month or so, I noticed my clothes getting looser, and more than a few people have commented on how skinny my face looks. So, because of this, I decided for the first time in years, to step on the scale and see what I really weighed. I was pretty shocked at the number.

It was good.

In the two weeks since then, I've knocked the number down a little bit more, and yesterday, the scale displayed a number I had not seen since I was 20 years old.

228.2.

Yep, a pretty good day.