Thursday, February 25, 2010

You're doing it all wrong

What do all the chowder-heads below all have in common?

Tubby Thom

Gluttonous Goat

Portly Peter

The Substantial Soiled Chamois

Roly Poly Racin Rick

These chumps, suckas, dopes, nincompoops, goobers, schelps, lummoxs . . . . they're all doing it wrong. You see, if you've ever visited any of their blogs, you'd be more than aware of their "issues" with weight. More specifically, trying to lose it for riding season. Pfffftt . . .

Don't get me wrong, I don't agree that any of them need to lose any weight . . . I love each and every one of them as they are.
Grwwwwwwwrrrrr . . . they're all so shhhhhexy.
But weight, or how we perceive our own weight, is relative and often based on personal perception of what we 'think' we should weigh. I get it. I was there.
I fought the problem. I struggled through the cravings, the mid-night trips to the fridge, the justifying eating foods that I shouldn't be eating, the stealing co-workers food from the staff room, hiding stashes of food, pizza shops on speed dial, buying chocolate by the pallet, the feelings of guilt then the depriving myself, the dieting.

No more I say. NO MORE.

What I have finally figured out is to cease fighting the problem and to embrace my flabby folds with two pudgy hands and wiggly giggly open arms.
If it looks like a duck, acts like a duck, sounds like a duck . . . . then it must be a duck.
Or . . . a Clydesdale.


rick is! said...

Like I said the other day. I've lost two whole pounds so I'm no longer officially a clyde. I suspect I'll drop another pound or two when I shave the legs for spring too. bye bye wookie.

I feel so sexy.

Jason said...

I am close to just embracing the clydesdale lifestyle. I work my ass off and gain weight. Yet all my clothes fit the same. Strange. Anyway, If I gain weight I can be a competitive clyde if I lose weight I'll be just another suck cyclist.

BTW thanks for the giant pic of me. And thanks for thinking I'm sexy just the way I am. I'm pretty keen on you too. But not as much as Rick.

Kark said...

should you wish to de-embrace the flabby folds (or fail to get your arms all the way around them) and once again choose to take up the fight, I have but two words for you.

amoebic dysentery.

How "Hollywood" and its vanity blinded followers have failed to catch on to this little secret is beyond me. Stupidity perhaps, or perhaps victims to the marketing juggernaut that is the diet industry aimed at just such sheeple.

But, you're better than that. You don't need 'plans', you don't need coaches, or personal trainers, you don't need soft cover books with multicoloured bold faced titles promising you the body of a cadaverous crack whore.
nope. All you need are a few healthy protozoan and a furnished bowel for them to set up shop and it'll all happen for you. (If they're hard to come by, leaving some mayonnaise on the counter for a day or two before making a tuna sandwich should suffice)

Sure, it's painful, undignified and dangerous but we're cyclists so really that's part and parcel of our recreation. no biggie.

Have fun finding your "inner climber"! you know, that 115lb cyclist that lives** inside us.

**If your inner climber is in there because you ate him after a long ride then he'll likely 'exit' when the protozoan move in, but you can probably find a figurative climber in there somewhere.

my next careeer. Diet coach

Big Bikes said...

I've been within fourteen pounds of clydesdale. Man, it would be fun to go all Robert Deniro method actor on the shit and gain the whole thirty I'm down now.

They got this fried mozarella at this place called Magiano's in downtown Boston...

Word Verification: "Winger"
My favorite 80's pedophile hair band.

The Evil MGE! said...

I am the original sasquatch. Using an electric razor on all my body parts every other day and pretending to lose weight are just a fact of life.

rick is! said...

wait jason. are you saying that you're keener on my than craig or are you saying I'm keener on craig than you are. just want to know where I stand.