At least I’d like to see less of my midsection. That’s why I’ve put myself on a diet. I’ve always struggled with my weight. By that, I mean that when I’m a fatty, I struggle to lift myself. And while it’s not as bad as all that, I’m firing a preemptive strike here.
And I’m trying a weight-loss plan that I’ve never tried before. I’ve done the vegetarian/bagels and Taco Bell/1200 calories a day diet (lost 100 pounds on that one…I don’t recommend it). I’ve tried “Atkins” (by which I mean that I cut out carbs. I didn’t actually follow the legitimate plan. Lost 20 pounds on that one in about a month…gained back 40 pounds in about three days). I’ve even done Weight Watchers by proxy (I’ve decided that one can’t lose weight on any diet done by proxy…but you can gain a few).
This time it’s The South Beach Diet (the actual, real-deal plan). It’s pretty much a conglomeration of all those previous diets except without vegetarianism, bagels and Taco Bell (really, that diet is just bad news).
I’ve decided (right at this moment) to go ahead and share my successes and failures with you on this blog. I know that the first question you have when you wake up in the morning is “how much weight has TAM lost this week?” Now you don’t have to wonder. The answers will be yours.
At the moment I’m 6’ tall and weigh 185 pounds.
I don’t really expect to lose any height (at least I hope not, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what they’re talking about when they promise that you’ll lose inches), but I wanted to put things in perspective.
My goal is to lose about 15-20 pounds. Do I really need to go to such extremes to lose a measly 15 pounds? Yes, I do. It’s always hardest to lose those last “few” pounds. That’s why I get so frustrated when I see shows like the biggest looser. Sure, a 400 pound dude can drop 150 pounds pretty easily. Hell, his body is begging for it. I think that it actually takes more energy to become 400 pounds than it does to not. But that’s an extreme. I tell you from experience that it’s damn easy to get to 265. And you can get to 200 before you realize it.
As an actor, I’m in no man’s land. I’m too thin to be the “fat” guy and I’m too fat to be the “cool best friend guy.” By the way, I’m too goofy looking to be the “lead guy”…and too terrified to be the “young father.”
I’ve been the “fat” guy before and I’m none too eager to go back to that.
That’s why the preemptive strike. Wish me luck. I’ll keep you posted (I know, it’s your dream isn’t it?) And if you’re in a supportive mood, why not visit Mike and Tanya’s blog and support them too.
Fun Fact: As I said a couple days ago, I just finished shooting a short. I dressed the set for it with various pieces of furniture that I found on the side of the street.
For those of you who don’t know, people in LA don’t throw furniture away. They don’t donate it either. They just put it out on the street to picked up by whoever wants it. It’s an ugly system (most of the stuff is just crap), but for the most part it works…and hey, I got some cool furniture for the short out of it.
Anyway, when the short was over, I returned the two stuffed chairs that I found to their street-side home. This morning while I was on my walk, I saw those two chairs again. They had sat out in the rain and looked pretty horrible (I had cleaned them up for the shoot).
And then it hit me…guilt. I felt bad for leaving these chairs out in the cold like that. After all, they had helped me out in my time of need. I know, they’re freaking chairs. But somehow, as I walked past them, dripping and dirty, I could swear that they were giving me “puppy dog eyes.”
And for a second – just a second – I was tempted to bring them back home and let them live in my carport again (as a kid, I used to kick rocks home from school and then feel bad for just leaving them. I ended up with an unhealthy collection of “kicking rocks”). Then I remembered that they were chairs. And that they were heavy (I’ve already logged more than enough mileage around town, looking goofy, carrying them on my head). And, most importantly, I remembered that they were wet.
I ain’t carrying a wet stuffed chair for nobody, pal.
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