47 at Forty-seven – The Mid-Life Crisis Diet Project - Part 4

47 at Forty-seven – The Mid-Life Crisis Diet Project

Part: 4 Me minus the Highness & Week Three


Instead of Couch Potatoes, Can I get a Salad?
Life looks a little different when completely sober. Did you all know that the economy is in a free-fall? And why is Jimmy Fallon in Conan’s chair? Moreover…how come that second question troubles me more than the first?

My buddy Adam asked something very intriguing. “Do you feel sharper from no booze and weed?” Wow. Great question. Booze and weed for me were almost exclusively at-home, evening habits. I have never shown up to a gig under the influence of anything. For me, that is inexcusable. Mortal sin time (even though I’m not Catholic).* But, they say THC can stay in your system for weeks. So am I sharper? I don’t know. I will say, I’ve had a couple of killer improv shows at ComedySportzLA these past weeks – although I wasn’t super proud of my work in last week’s long-form show (which oddly enough, is called “The High”).

I do know this much. I have more energy throughout the day, and more focus. Let’s be honest, weed saps your ambition. Picture the stereo-typical stoner. He’s out-of-work, sitting on a threadbare couch, in his mess of a living room. There’s probably a pizza box and an open bag of Doritos lying about. He’s wearing sweats or pajamas, underneath a ratty, Lebowski bathrobe, and listening to Dark Side of the Moon. I call that “Thursday”.

So, hopefully we’re losing a bit of that ambitionlessness (is that even a word?). Part of this whole challenge is motivation – motivation to lose weight, to make life changes, to feel better, to be better. I’d like to think I’m on my way.

*Full Disclosure - When I was with the SynD’Cats, as part of the performance, we had a bar on stage and would drink during the show, which was a Rat Pack-style revue…BUT we were self-produced. Any corporate shows with the SynD’Cats, I didn’t touch a drop. (I can only speak for myself on that account.) So when I say I never drank and performed, I mean except in this show – where I drank and performed.

Celibate Good Times, Come On
I have never been a sex machine, but I like to think I had a decent run with the ladies for a while. In my 30’s, in Orlando, I was feeling good about myself. I was working all the time, making decent money. I was a bigger fish in a smaller pond. Some may have thought I was a “reel” catch. Ah, metaphors, how I love to beat you into the ground.

But my 40’s have been a little different. I haven’t exactly set L.A. on fire. Two major deaths in my family, I got a little sadder, a little older, put on weight, and – romance-wise, I stopped putting it out there. This is what happens when we don’t feel great about ourselves. What am I saying? The last time I was getting it regular, America was watching Herman’s Head! Hello? Is this thing on?

My point is, I have hardly got a libido – for a few years now. This is NOT who I used to be. A girl could raise an eyebrow at me, and I would raise something of my own, IYKWIM. Will getting my body-image back have an effect? Will getting the THC out of my system have an effect? Is this just male menopause? I’m anxious to find out. I must confess, I bought the blue pill, the bone pill from an on-line pharmacy. I’m 47, not dead. Stella needs to get his groove back. I think I’ll go rent a movie with Carla Gugino in it. She always seems to show the goods. I’ll let you know how it goes.


Dame and Weigh-ins
I got my first compliment this week (thanks Amber). She said she could absolutely tell I was losing…and she could especially see it in my face. Happy happy, skippy jump.

Week Three weigh-in (drum roll)…
232 lbs. (Down 13 lbs. 34 to go)

Only one pound this week. Not to make excuses, but after hitting the gym pretty hard, I pulled a groin muscle (guess I had to do it some way, having no libido and all; oh I am hilarious!). So this has been a rather sedentary week. Also, I had a lovely visitor from out-of-town. Sweet Michelle was here, trying to wake the dead. I ate fairly healthy during her stay, but a couple of meals were definitely off-diet. Heck, even if I do one or two pounds a week, I’m moving in the right direction.

Thanks to everyone for the advice and well-wishes. More to come...off.

47 at Forty-seven – The Mid-Life Crisis Diet Project Part 3

47 at Forty-seven – The Mid-Life Crisis Diet Project

Part : 3 Weeks One & Two

Changes in Attitudes, Changes in Fattitudes
Well, we are officially underway. The journey to drop forty-seven pounds (at age 47) began March 2nd. I weighed-in at 245 lbs. That’s right; I actually gained 2 pounds during my pre-diet binge. Thank you. Thank you. You’re too kind.

Now here’s a great Day One strategy – root canal. That filling I lost was worse than I hoped. So, I had my first root canal, which really can kick-start a diet, I’ll tell you what. Why someone hasn’t touted the “Oral Surgery Weight Loss Plan” before now, I have no idea. There is no better appetite suppressant than feeling the throb of your pulse in your face.

The other thing I did to kick-start the diet, the real thing, the lazy-ass thing, is…I ordered food. The Chef’s Diet (formerly “Zone Chefs”) is a delivery service in NYC and L.A. They deliver your food for the day, right to your door. I get 3 meals and 2 snacks all based on The Zone Diet. This is great. For the first month all I will eat is what they give me, nothing else. This gets me used to proper meal ideas, how much to eat and how often. It’s a tad pricey and I really can’t afford it, but as my dear friend Mark Miller would say, “Steve, you can’t afford not to.” (Only he’d be talking about getting my butt to some drunken “Pirate Festival” in St. Pete.)

I’m back to the gym. I’m doing 3 and a quarter miles on the treadmill…in a row. So, after one week (drum roll) I weighed in at…
237 lbs. (Down 8 lbs. 39 to go.)

I just heard a chorus of females shout, “Men suck! Weight just flies off men. And they leave the toilet seat up and start wars.” Sorry. It happened. First week – 8 lbs.

TheTryin’, the Switch and the Wardrobe
“Has the eating been hard? Late-night cravings? Are you starving?” A lot of people have been asking. The answer is – not at all – so far. To paraphrase Yogi Berra, “It’s one half physical and ninety percent mental.” It’s weird but something might be hard for you until one day you just flip a switch. My chain-smoking friend Jody couldn’t quit to save her life, but the moment she suspected she was pregnant, down went the cigarettes – not a puff (that is until Emily was born - then, right back). My switch is flipped. This is what I’m doing now.

The weed and booze haven’t been an issue, either. It’s a case of habit vs. addiction. When I quit smoking – HUGE cravings. That was over four years ago, and I STILL get them. Tobacco is addictive. Marijuana is not; it’s just fun. Here is the “Duh Factor”, though – the obvious thing that never occurred to me. When you smoke a bowl most evenings, when you have a few drinks most evenings – these are sleep aids. Hey Idiot, you removed your sleep aids. So, for the first week, my sleep was f**ked.

Week Two weigh-in (drum roll)…
233 lbs. (Down 12 lbs. 35 to go)

The key now is to not get pleased with myself and relent. The only real change so far is that I’ve gone from nothing fitting at all – to a few things fitting poorly.

Me, me, me-ness and Stevie P-ness
Lastly, I would like to say a word about blogging, because here I am doing it, now. Some people actually seemed to be invested, and are asking me to hurry with updates and installments. (Thank you and bless you all.) But I must confess – I have always had a tolerate/hate relationship with blogs. Why? Because 90% percent of them are crap-ass exercises in self-obsession. “Look at me! I’m writing about me. Read about me. Me, me me.” It’s usually someone’s poorly-written therapy – pointless drivel, with no real audience. Wait a minute, I can write that!

But then there is the 10% that are well-written, or funny, or insightful, or moving. Kellie’s beautiful blog about her struggle with stage fucking four Lymphoma, brought me to tears – had me barking out surprising laughs, and made me love and care for a woman I’ve never met who is hundreds of miles away. Check her out and send love.
(http://www.cancerbecomesme.blogspot.com/) The fact that she or any of you, for that matter, are tuned in to my trifle about pot brownies and pot bellies is, quite frankly, humbling.

So I’m asking you to keep me honest, gang. I don’t want this to devolve into an inventory of weigh-ins and menus. And if you see me driving down Narcissistic Blather Lane, GPS me back on course, will ya?

47 at Forty-seven – The Mid-Life Crisis Diet Project Part 2

Part 2: The Last Hoorah

The Curious Case of Binger Man Glutton
As you may know, I announced quite publicly my challenge to lose 47 pounds (at 47 years of age). “I’m not only dieting”, I said, “But I’m also giving up booze and weed!” And, I remain quite committed to this noble venture, rest assured. But I’m not a total masochist. I made my announcement on a Wednesday that the diet would start Monday – leaving me four full days to smoke, chomp, and guzzle to my bacchanalian heart’s content. For three nights in a row I went to bed feeling no pain. But I knew Sunday would be my last day – a “wake and bake” binge for the ages.

I must confess, I approached my binge with the same determination as my forthcoming weight loss. If I was going to smoke the last of my dear cannabis, I needed to do it with reverence. Any dedicated stoner understands that the pot munchies should be treated with respect. Cravings will arise – and attention must be paid. So I stocked up on snacks. And not just snacks, I’m no amateur – snack groups.

You stoners know what I’m talking about – and you late-night bingers, too. Snacks have groups. So, I needed something from the “Chip Group” I went with Fritos – a classic, something from the “Candy Group” I chose Peanut M&Ms, which gets your chocolate craving and Twizzlers, for the consistency. (Sometimes when you’re high, you need something gummy). I bought Pretzel Nuggets, which I put in the “Bread/Cracker Group”, cheddar cheese for the “Dairy Group”, and finally for the “Cake/Cookie Group”, perhaps the perfect stoner food product – Teddy Grahams.

Noon til Midnight was the plan, and at 11:30AM I patted myself on the back for not procrastinating. It was a great lazy, blazey Sunday. The incense was lit; the iTunes were on…ah joy. Many friends came by – Kurt, Tasha, Luis, Kat, Eric, Brian, Leslie - to either wish me well, or join in some degree of debauchery. I toked, made Cranberry Martinis, toked, and if I remember correctly, I toked.

The Perfect Ending
11:30PM - The place has cleared out. I am watching Big Love in bed on the DVR, the nearly-killed box of Teddy Graham Minis rests on my enormous pot belly. Pretty, right ladies? I am spent. I have consumed more than once-thought humanly possible. The grub is gone. The weed is done. I grab the last handful of Nabisco’s nirvana, knowing that my diet starts in moments, and my binge is about to come to an end. As I bite into them (and I swear this REALLY happened) my biggest filling comes out, leaving a giant hole in my upper left molar.

How poetic is that? My body had had enough of my stupid binge and angrily Broke My Mouth!

Report on the first week coming soon.