The mathematics of losing weight.
There’s little in life more depressing than an airport full of fat people. And that’s exactly what my layover in Philly had in store for me.
Now, I won’t go so far as to accuse the entire city of Philadelphia of being fat — though those cheesesteaks can’t help the situation — but if the city itself isn’t the problem, then it’s connected to the cities that are. (I’m looking in your general direction, Houston).
Let me be clear, I don’t expect society to be full of waiflike, please-eat-something teens and twenties who look as though they’ll fall over in a stiff breeze. I’m perfectly aware what normal body weight looks like, and the deviations from the norm that any population will have: five, even ten pounds over I’d still tally as normal. But there’s slightly overweight, and then there’s fat. I wouldn’t be writing about something so humdrum as the former, would I?
As I sat to board yesterday, I lost my appetite at the sight of rotund bellies spilling over straining beltlines. Which reminds me, if you’re going to be fat, at least be a proud fat person: wear a muumuu, or at least some jeans that fit.
Look, besides the obvious health, socioeconomic, and intelligence reasons, I have no problem with others being fat: even though this land was made for you and me, I don’t mind if you take up just a little bit more of it. Just don’t overdo it, OK? What I do have is a serious problem with those people who think their fatness is the result of something out of their control: lack of time to exercise, lack or proper diet, lack of restraint.
It’s outside the scope here for me to talk about any valid points contained in these whinings (though there are and I promise to talk about them at a later date), but by and large it’s a crock of crap: you got yourself into this mess, you’re going to be the one who gets you out of it.
I used to be a fat person. Not morbidly obese; just a good fifteen pounds past the point of bodily safety. I had 90% of a double chin. And I was horribly depressed about it. Depression plus poor self image should be a clear motivator to change. I couldn’t. In fact, any stupid fat fad diet usually ended up making me heavier in the long run: the math speaks for itself. Losing five pounds and then gaining ten results in a net of… anyone?
Then I went in for some routine bloodwork. And the doctor let me in on a little secret: I was going to die. Much sooner than I needed to.
That’s a pretty good load of motivation juice, if you ask me. I worked off thirty pounds in four months. And kept it off. Much more cheaply and having much more fun than one of those fad books could ever instill in me.
Fad diets aren’t called fad because they last forever. If fads lasted forever, you’d still be taking care of your pet rock and your Tamagotchi.
So here’s a simple formula that gets omitted from every Atkins, South Beach, GutBuster, SugarMaster, and whatever hell else they call those fad diets:
Calories Out > Calories In.
That’s it. That’s all you have to remember. No “40% sugar, 30% protein…” junk. No “less than 3 bad carbs” schlock. What the hell is a bad carb anyway? Just write that formula above every where you have food: your fridge, your snack drawer, your pantry, your grocery list. Burn it in your forehead backwards and eat in front of a mirror if you have to. The calories you take in should be less than the calories you put out. Simple.
Here’s the fun part: You don’t have to restrict your diet at all. There’s absolutely no food off-limits. Want to eat an entire pound cake? A bag of Fritos? Two pieces of KFC? No problem, thunder-thighs: just remember that you’ll be working that off later. Fortunately for you, jogging an hour would work off one of those. You can jog for an hour, right? For what it’s worth, sitting on your computer for about fourteen years would work off one of those too. So it can be done.
Don’t feel like running an hour? Don’t have the time? It happens. Guess what: apples fill you up and are low in calories. So does salad with a teaspoon of dressing. They make the tops of those bottles smaller than the rest for a reason, smart guy. Water works really well too, and that’s completely free, calorie-wise. Vegetables are excellent.
Remember that I said you could eat anything you wanted? That’s for the runners. Lazy people who can’t find an hour in their day to run or walk do not get to eat anything they want. But that’s OK because nature has still given you loads of tasty things that work. You’ve just been a hamburger-munching toolbag for so long, your tastebuds that like tomatoes and apples have taken a siesta. The only way to wake them up is to use them.
In closing, here’s an extension of the formula, written as a balanced equation.
I do have time in my schedule to run = I can eat shitty stuff.
Which of course, yields:
I do not have time in my schedule to run = I cannot eat shitty stuff.
Holy shit! This is really just math and formulas, huh? Tell that to the schmuck in Philly who tried to wedge his girthsome body into the seat on the plane next to me. Reduce the square area of your ass and things will be much improved.
September 7th, 2007 at 3:41 pm
Hi Adam! Of course this entry peaked my interest since I have become somewhat knowledgable in this area after having lost a lot of weight in the past year and a half. And also because of my obsession with running. I don’t think you can run off an entire bag of Fritos or an entire pound cake by running for an hour. Most sources I know of indicate that you burn about 100 or 125 calories per mile of running. In an hour, the average person probably runs about 7 miles. That is about 700-800 or so calories burned. I checked a bag of Fritos last night at the grocery store and I think it had a total of something like 1600 or 1700 calories. I don’t know about pound cake, but I suspect an entire pound cake is more than 700-800 calories. As an avid runner, I do eat more than I would if I wasn’t running. But I know that I can’t over-indulge. A lot of runners eat whatever they want and don’t lose weight and wonder why “because they are exercising so much.” Running is not a license to indulge daily. Obviously I am not discouraging running or exercising; I’m just encouraging those who do to also be somewhat conscious of what they eat. Let’s meet over hot fudge sundaes and discuss! LOL!