I lied to the life insurance agent taking down my information for a new policy today. Not on purpose. I just didn’t realize how far I had let myself go until tonight.
He asked for my stats and I replied with 6’7″ and about 240 pounds. I explained that I used to be 235 but “I like my ice cream” so I probably packed on a few needless pounds.
After answering a few more questions he gave me my rate. $108 a month. I explained that their promotional flyer said it’d be $68 and he said I could get that rate if my weight was 237 pounds.
Three pounds? Heck, I can cut back a little bit if it means I’ll save $480 a year on life insurance. That’s $160 a pound! Over the 30-year term, that equates to $4,800 a pound. Well worth a few days of fasting.
I set my physical appointment for December 15th and joked that I’d just have the nurse weigh me naked (me, not her, unless of course, that’s an option) since I’m easily sporting three pounds worth of clothing. Realizing my wife might frown on that I opted for a brisk crash diet and figured I’d have to start easing off the ice cream and chicken wings around December 12th to make the cut.
I intended on blogging my three-pound weight loss quest as a joke and had Heather dust off the scale so I could laughingly set my “starting point”.
The scale’s display slapped me straight.
I weighed more than an eighth of a ton.
What started out as a funny “pound a day” 3-day diet turned ugly the moment those numbers flashed on the screen. Over and over and over again I tried stepping on the scale at different angles, with fewer toes, and with less clothing. Yet even as all my self-esteem flooded from my body, the scale didn’t change.
Who knew ego was weightless?
How in the world am I supposed to drop 20 pounds in 15 days? I don’t even think that’s healthy. The amount of food I have to cut out of my diet frightens me.
Say goodbye to…
- Ice Cream
- Microwaveable Taquitos
- Little Debbie Christmas Cakes
- Chicken Wings
- Hot Dogs
- Chicken Pot Pies
- French Fries
Say Hello to…
- Flax seed
- Skim milk
- Hunger Pains
Coupled with a drastic diet reduction comes the need for a rigorous exercise program. While I play basketball a few days a week, it’s obviously not enough. I either need to get serious or I need to find a better alternative.
The only alternative I can find is moving to Venus. There, I’d weigh 233 pounds, well within range. Mercury’s even better at 97 pounds but I don’t want to be unreasonable. Plus, if I couldn’t handle the heat in Texas, I certainly couldn’t handle living on the planet Mercury.
So, I have 24 hours to decide what to do. I can either adopt a crash diet mentality or I can move to Venus. The latter requiring a rocket, proper trajectory, assistance from NASA, millions in funding, provisions, communications equipment, and a life insurance company in-waiting.
Still, I’m thinking.
All while I muscle down a bowl of Cheerios with skim milk.
At the time of this writing, Venus is winning.