A bunch of folks at the office decided before the year-end holidays that it’d be a good idea to do some inane “Biggest Loser” contest in the new year.  I was challenged to participate.  I thought about it for a good, solid 4 or 5 seconds before deciding, “fuck that noise.”  I’m a fat ass and I have the willpower of Paula Deen at a Velveeta cook-off.  It’d be much better to poke fun at those dummies participating.

But come the first day of work, I crack inside of 2 minutes under peer pressure.  “C’mon, you can’t be the only one of us who doesn’t do this.”  “Dude, come on, you gotta do it.”  “You really should…”  ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, SHUT THE FUCK UP, I’LL DO THIS IF YOU JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!

So like the feeble, weak-minded shithead that I am, I stupidly joined the office “Biggest Loser” contest.

Day 1:  The weigh-in.  I was not even remotely prepared for this.  If I had planned on joining this contest, I’d have prepped a bit better.  I’d have worked harder at packing on some holiday fat.  I sure as hell ate like a fiend and drink like a fish, I should’ve packed on more poundage.  Instead, I gained nothing.  When I need gain weight, I can’t.  That is some fucked up metabolism I have.  Anyway, I weigh in, and while I’m quite fat, I’m not nearly as fat as I could’ve been.  I could’ve eaten a heartier breakfast (a double order of a Denny’s Grand Slam comes to mind), and maybe I could’ve washed it down with two milkshakes.  Something to bloat the scales at the weigh-in, that’s how it’s done.  But no – that morning, I had an apple and two cups of coffee.  And I went to the gym that morning.  I had to be healthy.  I am off to a massively shitty start.

Day 3:  Chicanery in the workplace has begun.  Unwittingly, yesterday I was offered a banana by a competitor and I ate it.  After that I looked up a calorie count – about 140 calories.  WTF, IT’S A BANANA!!  It’s fruit, it’s supposed to be good for you!  Well played, you dick, well played.

Day 6:  Travel will be my downfall in this contest.  It is positively brutal to stick with healthy eating options when traveling.  If it isn’t really shitty road food, it’s overly indulgent fare.  This evening, a ravaged Pittsburgh Steelers improbably lost to the hallowed Denver Broncos in the AFC Wild Card playoffs, and I watched it all implode from my hotel room in Boston.  After I sat in stunned silence for 10 minutes after the game, I decided to pop downstairs to grab some dinner and eat my grief away.  But I’m such a loser I couldn’t even do that properly.  Go big or go home, right?  Not me, I went half-hearted.  No booze, I drank water.  I loaded on a large arugula salad (oooh, healthy crap), then dove into some over-the-top roasted duck breast that was surrounded by rich, fatty sides with complicated French names.  The duck was mega, but it was an incomplete and shameful experience because I totally pussed out by not going all the way.  If I was going to pig out, the least I could do was booze it up, inhaled an entree with drenched with delicious cream and bacon, doubled up on dessert.  Instead, I executed a pointless, unfulfilling exercise.  I retired to my room more defeated than ever.

Week 1 was tedious at best.  It’s going to be an insufferable month.