Tag Archives: jenny craig

Deception as Motivation

Personal Bits

For the last couple months I’ve been putting off my promise to myself for losing 20lbs. I had been weighing myself religiously with every visit to the gym and had not noticed any great flux in my weight – it was hovering nicely around 225lbs, but 20lbs sounded so easy to do: no chips, no eating after 8pm, more salads, less sugar, bla bla bla, which made me complacent to actually doing something about it. I was making promises to myself that I’d lose it before Disney and what the hey, I had a few months to go so what’s the rush?

Last week I was standing nude waiting in line for the scale in the change room (I love walking around nude in there, no towel wrap. Freaks out the repressed Islamic/Catholics), when the guy on the scale steps off and blurts: “Finally! They fixed it!”

Huh?

I step on.

It’s one of those doctor office ones with the sliding weights. I snap the weights to 225. Nope. Too light.

227? Nope.

235? No, the weights stayed put, not enough.

242? Finally the weights balance. Oh fucking shit on a toasted English muffin with a side of fucking home fries. With ass hollandaise sauce.

I felt cheated. I felt angry. I felt like some Fat Ass Fairy came and blessed me in the night with a gift of fat. I wanted to stride naked out of the change room to the administration office of the gym and wave my blubber at them while shouting: “YOU DID THIS TO ME!!” To say this was a wake up call was a bit of an understatement. I was nearing 1/8th of a ton.

I have friends who went on various Jenny Craig/Weight Watchers programs and while I honestly commended them for their choice of healthy eating (they all looked amazing after their run), when they talked about their food intake for the day like their relationship with food resembled a troubled loved one going through rehab, I would silently thank my lucky stars I wasn’t a “food Nazi”.

These things are cyclic: I have become a Food Nazi. So I’m eating more salads, less sugars, nothing after 8pm and getting back to the gym to do an hour of cardio for each visit. This is the last I’ll speak of it, though.

Spells I Wish I Could Cast

Distractions

Put on your Hoofindor House colours and wave your wands, kids!

Expecto Petrolium: For anyone who thinks that bad driving is their god given right, they get their hands turned into gas pump nozzles that actually spews their blood that magically transmogrifies into gas. Mobs will hunt you out and NOT pay $.25/ltr. They’ll just take it, because, you know, it’s their god given right.

Expectus Hoarktonium: Spitting in the gym showers? Your eyes turn to phlegm. Sad movies make you blind.

Expetor Dooreasius: You push the handicapped door button and you’re able bodied with nothing in your hands? Zap. Your arms are now 2 inches long. Now you have a reason.

Expecta Jackhammerus: This spell turns any City Works foreman into a slice of cheesecake at a Jenny Craig Convention if they authorize power tool work to be done outside my window before 7am.

Expeti Thongrollium: I see your underwear outside your pants? Poof – it turns into the ugliest version of the opposite sex’s gitch. Women get mustard yellow baggy boxers. Men get rhinestone encrusted thongs. Unremovable for 24 hours.

Expect Moreblogcrappius:
I cast a spell where I do excellent writing. Sigh.