47 at Forty-seven - The Mid-life Crisis Diet Project Part 8

47 at Forty-seven – The Mid-Life Crisis Diet Project
Part 8: Weeks Nine and Ten

Have Gut…Will Travel
This challenge has been amazing and life-changing. I’m already down 25 pounds on my way to the goal of 47. I’m getting compliments and encouragement from every corner. And...despite my April 20th day of idiocy (see part 7), I have been focused and steadfast. I’m on a roll. What could stop me now? Uh oh, TRAVEL!

I went to New York City for a week: and if there is an easy way to stay on a diet while traveling, I sure as heck don’t know it. For that matter, I’m not sure I want to know it. Travel equals vacation, good times, and a break from routine. If you’re going someplace new, you want to try new foods – the cool local stuff. If you’re heading somewhere familiar, as I was, then there’s stuff you’re already craving that you can only get there. Feed me, NYC. Don’t worry. I didn’t go nuts, or anything. I just allowed myself to enjoy.

First of all, the stars lined up perfectly for this trip. Michelle told me she had a gig in NYC with her singing group. Hmm, could I meet her? Then, my dear friend Greg offered me work at the Tribeca Film Festival Street Fair – hooray, trip paid for. At the same time, this was the week my brother and sister in-law were expecting their baby girl – their first child. Sure enough, Ellison Jane Purnick was born the day before I got to NYC. She was born with Down Syndrome, but otherwise healthy. This was a surprise diagnosis that had been missed in earlier tests, so I was even more elated that I could be there in person, to lend my love and support and share in their joy. Ellison is beautiful and will be surprising and delighting us for years and years to come.

That being said…their place was insanely filled with food. It felt like every friend, relative and business colleague sent a basket, tray or chaffing dish full of something delicious. Remember, I’m a free-lance actor. Our favorite two words in the English language are, “free food” (though, on set it’s, “that’s lunch”). So I spent hours either holding my new niece, or a plate of lasagna.

At the street fair I had a lunch of New York pizza. Man, I love New York pizza. I grew up on the New Jersey side of the Hudson, about a 12 minute drive from the George Washington Bridge. So yes, I’m a Jersey Boy. But with that kind of proximity to the greatest city in the world, I’ve always taken the liberty of considering myself a New Yorker too. And even if you don’t think New York is the greatest city in the world…food-wise, sorry it just is. Why? One word…immigration. For about a century, if you immigrated to America, you came to New York (Castle Garden then Ellis Island) – and brought your cuisine with you. Everything came to NYC. Everything competed. Everything got better.

While there, I felt like getting my Jew on. Michelle graciously accompanied me to Katz’ Deli on the Lower East Side for the best pastrami sandwich in town. Michelle – “I don’t really like pastrami, but let me taste yours.” (She tastes it) “What am I talking about? That’s delicious.” We also stopped at Yona Schimmel for knishes. And I got some of my home town Jersey bagels. Wow, just typing all that made me feel jewier than I have in years. Oy, I have such a pain, you wouldn’t want to know from it.

So, Monday, May 4
Week Nine weigh-in (drum roll)…
IT DIDN’T HAPPEN. I was on vacation in New York eating pastrami. Good thing I wasn’t near my scale. I think my weight would have gone up.

The other difficult part of the travel equation – besides eating, is you don’t exercise. You’re away from your gym, or your park, or weekly volleyball game, or whatever makes you move.

So I guess my point is…Travel 1 – Diet 0. And that’s okay.

Lord of the Ring Dings
As soon as I returned home, the healthy life-style did as well. Part of the incentive to lose weight right now, is that I’m in a show. About five years ago, friends and I mounted a show called Fellowship! The musical parody of The Fellowship of the Ring. I play Bilbo and Boromir and some other tinier parts. We won “Musical of the Year” back then. Now we are re-mounting it five years later. It’s a terrific show – one of the favorite things I have done in the last several years. Come see it. But obviously, I did not want this to be an older, slower, fatter, version of the last production. No one wants to see Bilbo Saggins, or Boromir’s middle girth. Hello, is this thing on? I probably weighed somewhere in the mid 220s last time. So when I tipped the scales at 245 – that would not do at all.

Shows are work. I need to be able to move, change costumes, dance a bit, and support myself vocally for five shows a week. And, I’ll admit it; part of this new-found resolve is vanity. People are coming to see me. I will be on display. Vanity is a powerful motivator. Vanity, not health is why I quit smoking. I didn’t like the way my voice was sounding the last time we did this show. So I set down the cigarettes. I’m not ashamed of this vanity, either. I’m damn glad it showed up. Vanity tells me I haven’t given up…on myself, on looking good, on the promise of romance, on life.

Monday May, 11
Week Ten weigh-in (drum roll)…
218 lbs. (Down 27 lbs. 20 to go)

Wow. Travel be damned. That’s still some great forward motion. Two pounds in two weeks. See what can happen when you change your bad hobbits?

47 at Forty-seven – The Mid-Life Crisis Diet Project Part 7

47 at Forty-seven – The Mid-Life Crisis Diet Project
Part 7: Weeks Seven and Eight


What Was I? High?
Sorry. I know I haven’t blogged in a while. Like the butcher who backed into his meat-grinder, I got a little behind in my work. (rimshot). Or maybe I just needed to re-boot some brain cells. As I announced in the last installment, on this journey to lose 47 pounds, I gave myself a little reward milestone along the way. No booze – no marijuana is part of the promise of this diet, but if I was down over 20 pounds by April 20th, (4-20, the stoner holiday), I would allow myself a day off. A day-long smoke-out. A High Holiday. So, on Monday morning, 4-20 I got on the scale…

Week Seven weigh-in (drum roll)…
221 lbs. (Down 24 lbs. 23 to go)

Ha! That’s pretty damn good. Over half-way to my goal. Bring me my bong.

I spent the morning shopping for snacks. Since I was getting ready for a high day (and so were my guests), I bought out the store. I had already asked a few of my fellow celebrants if they had a favored munchie. This was a smart move, as it steered me to a few things I wouldn’t have necessarily purchased. Jen – fruit roll-ups. Susan – watermelon. I also got fresh strawberries and pineapple. Tortilla chips, Fritos, cheese, crackers, twizzlers, kosher salami, my poor-man’s trail mix (lightly salted roasted peanuts, semi-sweet chocolate chips, golden raisins)…a bunch more I’m forgetting, oh and of course, Teddy Grahams. I also had two boxes of Matzah left from Passover, (with butter - don’t laugh, it was gone in minutes).

12:30PM I loaded the Brandy Bong - that’s where the liquid is ½ water, ½ brandy for a sweeter draw. I took a huge toke and turned on Cheech and Chong’s “Up in Smoke”. I couldn’t think of a better choice to start the day. Within minutes I was giggling and feeling really high. Then higher. Then higher still. Damn, this was really strong stuff. Was it just that I hadn’t smoked in weeks? No, this was heavy duty bud. Gulp.

About an hour later the first guest came, and like the good host my momma raised, I didn’t let him smoke alone. Within minutes he was insanely high and could barely communicate. Fine with zombie me. And so it went for the next few hours. I would get stupidly baked, then just be coming back into my body, when someone new would stop in. Let me join you. Puff…stupor…forage…regulate…lather…rinse…repeat. Late afternoon (close to 4:20PM) quite a few folks stopped in close together. I kid you not; the back room had a thick cloud of smoke hanging low and obscuring the ceiling. You didn’t need a pipe; you could walk in and take a drag off the room. No lie. I had to walk outside for air. This is smoggy, Southern California in the middle of a heat wave, and it was so much more comfortable outside. “What am I doing? I’m not a 20 year-old frat boy.” I’m thinking that now. At the time I was thinking, “Um, wait. What?”

The way too much food I had purchased was all but gone by 5:30PM. I ordered Pizzas. Thanks for walking with me to pick them up, whomever you were. So many amazing friends attended, or so I hear. A dear old improv friend I haven’t seen in at least a decade came by. He told me about his life, and I told him, “Um, wait. What?” The party was epic. 12 hours, 25 guests, 8PM Lebowski viewing. Nirvana.

Looking back on it though, I’m of two minds. Part of me feels like it was fabulous, harmless, debauchery. Hooray for us. I’d love to do it again next year (though, perhaps with some milder stuff). The other part of me worries that this is just arrested development, and that I should grow up already. Screw it. I’m listening to the first guy.

The High Price
The next day I felt like crap – the next two, actually. In my best Danny Glover, “I’m getting too old for this stuff”. And…when I got on the scale the next morning, it was 4 pounds up. Are you kidding me? 4 pounds! I hadn’t intended to full-on binge, but I guess I did anyway. Now I’m looking forward to a week of hard dieting, just so I don’t backslide. Dumbbass.

But here is the hardest thing I had to contend with the day after. There was still quite a bit of weed in the house. I took the bulk over to a friend. But there was still a freshly packed pipe, and mostly packed bong – just sitting there – calling me. “Steve. Yoo hoo.” I had opened the door a crack. There was a little hole in the dike. All day long, and especially in the evening, I had angel and devil shoulders. The devil would say, “Go on, just finish off what’s already been packed. How is one more night gonna kill you?” The angel said, “No, you made deal. You gave yourself one day. That one day is over. A deal is a deal. You need to be true to your word.” And…for some unknown reason these two little guys looked and sounded like Fred Flintstone.

I am proud to say that the angel won out. I didn’t touch the stuff after 4-20. After that first day, that test, not wanting it became easy again. I still have a bit of it in the house, but I don’t go near it – just like the chocolate in the candy bowl I keep out for guests, or the liquor in the liquor cabinet. It’s there for folks who stop in, and maybe for me again someday, but not until I reach my goal. Final answser.

The binge weight came off fairly quickly. And I am oh so proud to report that I did not backslide. Monday morning April, 27…

Week Eight weigh-in (drum roll)…
220 lbs. (Down 25 lbs. 22 to go)

I’m back on track, feeling good…but I never did find out how that Cheech and Chong movie ends.