TRYING NOT TO EAT MY FEELINGS

As you may have gathered, I’ve blown off losing weight, getting fit, and writing this blog for the better part of two months. The good news is I’ve lost 10 pounds on this journey and I’ve kept it off. I should be at around 20 pounds down by this point but who’s counting? (Literally me, I am.)

BUT let me tell you something, I have been eating GOOD!

So many birthdays, work events and bon voyages have brought me to delicious and indulgent New York City dining establishments and I don’t regret a goddamn morsel. My priorities have always been set such that social gatherings and celebrations trump health and fitness.

As I do on every Sunday, I woke up at 2:00 pm and told myself that this is the week I’m getting back on track. Then I promptly went to a friends house and ate two thirds of a pound of spinach and artichoke dip. It wasn’t until about 4 that I read about the shooting in Orlando.

What a truly devastating event. When 49 young lives are taken from their families and their community, when a safe haven is breached with violent hate-fueled aggression, how can you figure out how to feel. Shock? Anger? Grief? Fear? Are my feelings even worthy of expression when 49 people have been torn from this earth? It all comes to the front of the line, and there’s nothing to do but to feel them-- and fuck it-- to eat them.

I’ve never been a church-going person, I don’t have strong cultural ties to any synagogues or mosques, but I think I finally understand the pain that comes with an attack on a holy ground.

I find myself thinking about the attacks on Emmanuel African Church in Charleston NC earlier this year and recognizing the pain in the sound clips in a way that I never could before. It’s a pain that comes from being attacked solely for gathering with like-minded people to express themselves freely, to celebrate each other and ultimately to exercise the right to be happy as afforded by the U.S. constitution.

I want to express my personal sympathy to the families and friends of the victims, to the community in Orlando that must be shaken to its core, and to every gay person that is, like me,  grappling with this unique cocktail of fear and sadness. I want to express my sympathy to the Latino community at large, because there is no question in my mind that racism fueled this attack just as much as homophobia.

I don’t know how to wrap this up. I’m sad. I don’t know if anyone cares about my feelings on a national tragedy, but it’s healthier to write than to eat six dollar’s worth of dollar-pizza and after this is a blog about weight loss.  

If you’re looking for something you can do:

Write your legislators

Donate to the victim’s families and survivors

Give blood if you’re in or around Orlando

Go to your local gay bar and fag out

BOB HARPER, PLEASE!

OMMFTFG There are only 187 days until halloween 2016. Let's get to it.

A few weeks ago I stated that ‘d be focusing on the fitness aspect of this journey to halloween, and I literally haven’t been to the gym since.

I have never like exercise, I mean… it hurts. It’s always the last thing on my list of things to do.

But I had a very inspiring conversation with a gorgeous well built friend who told me that he goes to the gym everyday after work. He forgoes social opportunities and post work drinks and dinners with friends, not only to stay in shape, but because he LIKES to work out. Sounds dumb to me but he’s got arms like a member of 98° so i’ll have what she’s having-- knowhatimean?

Being someone with a highly addictive personality, I bet if I forced myself to go to the gym 3 or 4 times a week, I’d start to want to go to the gym.

WANT to go the GYM! Crazy right?

I saw an ad in the subway for a book by The Biggest Loser’s Bob Harper; it had a kind of algebraic formulas on it. I can’t find the book online because Harper has written about 400 books on diet and exercise, and they are infuriating to look through. His body of work reads like an evolution of buzzwords used to trick fat women into buying things: Skinny Rules, Jumpstart to Skinny, Skinny Skinny Skinny Thin Now Today.

Anyway, the formula ad was something about taking supportive steps towards meeting your goals. If you want to go to the gym more, leave a set of gym clothes in your desk drawer. Or just fucking plan on going to the gym and bring your clothes. It’s so easy, but I never do it. UNTIL TODAYYY

Today is the day I start going to the gym regularly. I wore sneakers to work so I have to. And as definitive proof I will post at least 4 gratuitous gym selfies on this very blog as a part of next week’s post. It’s gonna get ugly.

QUICK UPDATE FURYA

There are 208 days left until Halloween 2016-- plenty of time for a quick update.
It's been 55 days since I started Weight Watchers, and I've lost a whopping 7 pounds.
Which, quite frankly, has me thrilled!
I know that 7 pounds is a measly amount of weight to lose over 55 days, but I am so loose and undisciplined when it comes to dieting, I should honestly be gaining weight.
And even at 7 pounds down, I can feel a slight change in my body, in how my clothes fit, and in my appearance.
I feel like my body has adjusted to living within my points, and I'm making healthy-ish food choices.
(If you consider halal street meat healthy)

The most important lesson I've learned so far is that a day is never blown.
There have been plenty of days in which I've gone to brunch and eaten two days' worth of calories in less than an hour. In the past, I might look at a day like that and say, 

"Well it's not like I'm gonna lose any weight today! I should probably polish off this alcoholic milkshake."

As if every morning I'd wake up with a fresh start and no history of self-harm via baked goods. Now I truly understand that it doesn't work like that. Well, maybe I've always understood that, but now I'm finally applying that knowledge to real life.

It's never too late to make a healthy choice. [paid advertisement for ConAgra Foods' Healthy Choice prepared foods. I wish]

I kind of understand this principle in a don't throw good money after bad sense. If I eat a six-dollar bucket of composite "lamb" meat and rice, I can always eat straight up broccoli for dinner. I can change directions!

Another biggie i learned is I don't have to eat until everything is gone and I'm in pain, EVEN IF it's free. I can just stop eating when I'm full, and put the food away or throw it out! 
Seems obvious, but stopping is counterintuitive when you're halfway through a trough of Chipotle.

Anyway. There's a quick update for ya.
In the upcoming weeks I plan to concentrate on my body goals in terms of fitness. So who knows whether I'll do that or not.

xoxo
gossip girl

THE GHOST OF HALLOWEENS PAST

Today, with only 222 days left until Halloween 2016, we’ll take a trip down memory lane with the ghost of Halloween past. It’s me, guys! The ghost is just me dressed normally but covered in powder and pearlescent glitter so I look pale and magical, ghostly if you will!

I pride myself on being good at Halloween. It's campy and irreverent, it's an excuse to have a party and it's a mad grab for attention. All things at which I excel, IMHO.

But today you can be the judge, as we go through a highlights reel of my past Halloween costumes in painstaking detail.

Buckle up! I'm a ghost!

By far, my biggest hit ever was 2014’s

Cozy O’Donnell

The concept behind Cozy O’donnell is simple, Rosie O’Donnell in her comfies, the real Rosie, when she’s off the clock. Cozy was product of groupthink in the penthouse of the wythe hotel, and I only write that because I know it makes me sound cool as fuck. It was the fated night when my friends brought to my attention, what they call, “a character flaw.” I have a tendency to “Viewin” conversations. Viewin (rhymes with ruin, not a coincidence) means to ham-handedly steer any topic of conversation towards a discussion of daytime TV’s The View.

I threw Cozy together with things I already owned (the only thing I bought was the wig) which is what leads me to believe that Cozy O’donnell was inside of me all along.

(For more Cozy O’Donnell, follow her on Twitter @CozyODonnell)

Billy Gay Cyrus

I was once told by a professor that puns are the lowest form of humor. Maybe, maybe not-- what I do know is that when a good pun hits, it hits hard. And I’ve never heard a better pun than Billy Gay Cyrus. Upon heard the words uttered, I decided immediately that I would embody this gay country god on the day of All Hallows Eve. I did a lot of square dancing.

With a mullet wig and fringe vest from Forever 21’s plus size department (or Forever 22, as my sister refers to it) and some DIY iron-on letters, Billy Gay came alive and won me a costume contest at work-- seven days later, I was let go. PROBABLY A COINCIDENCE.

Let Us Play With Your Look

Not every costume on this list is based in a lazy pun. Some of them are straight rip offs of things I think are funny, cool and/or very obscure.

Let Us Play With Your Look is a bit from one or both of Jimmy Fallon’s late night shows, in which he and a guest pull someone out of the audience and fuck them up. Me and my good friend Evelynne loaded a box full of shit to put in people’s hair, donned our blonde wigs and spent the entirety of Halloween 2011 putting shit in people’s hair.

Here’s a video of the segment on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon and guest Ann Hathaway.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFs53ArxSbo

Uncle Fester

I mean… I nailed it. The crowning achievement of this costume was the lightbulb. I found one on amazon that i could turn on and off with my tongue. It drove people wild. I was stopped THREE times in the subway so people could take pictures with me. The 2013 mad grab for attention was a success!

King Kandy of Candyland

What’s more fun than an elaborate group costume. I can’t think of one thing! In 2012, myself and a group of close friends and classmates dressed as the cast of Candyland, the childhood game and root of my obesity.

I committed too hard and dyed my hair bright-ass pink. Im almost sure that the trauma to my scalp is what expedited my hair loss, but hey, it was Halloween-- totally worth it. 

I've also masqueraded as Jimmy Neutron, Bam Bam Rubble, a Shamrock Shake, a classic skeleton, a polar bear, a cowboy, Paris Hilton and many more.

Is it safe to say that Halloween is my favorite holiday? Don't be stupid-- that's Christmas.

But I do love halloween, and I look forward to loving it for the rest of my life. I can guarantee that this year's costume is going to be dope, and can't wait to reveal it to you right here on this very blog.

CHEAT DAZE

On this the 229th day before Halloween 2016, let’s take a moment to talk about cheat days, because every day in the near past has been just that, a cheat day.

I don’t necessarily believe in the concept of a cheat day. I don’t think that treating yourself or loosening the reins a little is a bad thing and I think guilt is an emotion best reserved for murder and littering.

But when I found myself hiding behind a chair and tearing into the spinach-dip-soaked husk of a party-sized bread bowl, I really took a hard look at myself and thought: Is this really what’s best for me?

The answer was obviously "no."

That was two weekends ago. I was at home in Philadelphia visiting with my friends and family. I was greeted with a giant bag of cookies, and my mom asked me to help her bake a flourless chocolate cake. I ate everything I could see. I realized that while a lot of my friends have coffee problems, I have a toffee problem. But whatever, it just means we can always meet at Starbucks.

(I hate hate hate Starbucks, it’s MacDonalds but worse. That’s a post for another day.)

I am happy to say that I did get my act together. While I didn’t lose any weight that week, I didn’t gain any either. I made it to the gym (once) and instead of meeting for drinks, a friend and I walked the Williamsburg bridge and caught up.

Then this past weekend hit. I was going to be good. I was going to eat carrots in front of the TV and watch all 13 hours of House of Cards.

But when presented with the option to not be an antisocial hermit, I took it… especially because that option came with pasta.

Almost all the socializing I do is centered around food. Going out to dinner, going out to brunch, drinking, eating a stranger’s birthday cake by the fistful at 3 am in a basement bar, this is how I stay in contact with the people around me.

Socializing is important to me because I’m a textbook extrovert. I get my energy from external sources. It’s code for: Please pay attention to me.

And while you’re paying attention, please provide snacks. Anything from Trader Joe’s that’s dipped in chocolate will do just fine. But they do have chocolate covered toffee and I would prefer that. THANKKKKSSSSSXXOO

HEY OPRAH, I LIKE BREAD TOO

Hello Readers! 

Sorry for posting so late today! 

I've take a foray into video editing in order to present you with this! 

MY OPRAH BREAD COMMERCIAL 

If you've been reading you know that it was Oprah's bread commercial that encouraged me to sign back up for Weight Watchers.

Nobody asked me to, but I made my own commercial for bread... i mean weight watchers.

Enjoy! 

P.s. I don't know why Blogspot displays youtube videos so poorly.  I'm going to move this whole production to tumblr, but in the mean time this still "functions." 

MY TWO BROTHERS

My Two Brothers 

A story of addiction 

I stand frozen on a busy New York City avenue, peering into the face of addiction. I take a step but reconsider. Am I going to do this to myself again? Am I going to blatantly mistreat my body, in exchange for a minute of euphoria? Is euphoria a strong word to describe shitty $1.00 pizza?

Hot oregano fumes radiate from the belly of a sedan-sized furnace. The oven is so well seasoned it could win a boxing match behind a Red Hook warehouse… and believe me, that’s a smell.  Serpents of yeasty steam waft through the gaps in a pair of clear glass doors, racing up my nostrils, past my lungs and into my brain.

The lights of passing cars flicker in the glass doors almost like a mirage. As far as barriers are concerned, these doors may as well not even exist.

There is really nothing standing in the way of that intense, if brief, visceral pleasure that is shitty $1.00 pizza. Nothing but a suspension of will power and one American dollar bill. A fair price, I say, for half of a day's worth of calories.

What is a dollar to a middle class white male burning his 20s in the media arts?

Short sight makes it so that the value of a dollar can only be seen in large sums,

while each individual dollar is merely a flag. A pale green flag, that when waved in the air is the intercultural symbol for "please hand me a slice of pizza."

And in no time flat, a slice of pizza appears, produced, as if by magic, by a Latino man in a dirty red polo shirt. If a hard working pizza man's shirt is clean, something's amiss, do not eat that pizza.

Ouch! I must have blacked out in the glee of a bargain-- I don't even remember putting the slice in my mouth, but hot cheese and marinara water are scalding my tongue, leaving behind painful swollen taste buds, that will remain for days to come. Maybe as a reminder that we’ve gone too far.

The human mouth is not built for $1.00 pizza.

Even God himself didn't see this one coming. He must have been off kicking rocks around the space-time continuum, while two brothers of his very own creation were meddling with forces that only slightly resembled Italian cuisine.

These two brothers, or "2 Bros." if you will, discovered that with the right ratio of cheese product, tomato paste and pure glutenous bread protein, they could sell slices of "pizza" for a dollar each, while covering their overhead costs and still turning a profit. What a display of business prowess, especially considering it only cost them each their first born son.

This business plan was concocted, no doubt, in the brimstone cave that Satan affectionately refers to as his pied a terre. 

For the business is sinister to its core.

To expect a human being to exhibit even a remote sense of self control in the face of $1.00 pizza is ludicrous. To keep the pizza piping hot and ready to eat is garden-of-Eden-snake level temptation. It’s got Satan’s hoof prints all over it.

Who exactly were these two brothers? Who cares. We can't eat them.

We can eat pizza. And not to belabor the point, but we can eat it for a dollar.

You won’t, however, catch me saying I only eat it for the price. The flavor is intoxicatingly pizza-like and the sauce’s high sugar content satisfies my glucose addiction. At only 8 Weight Watchers™ SmartPoints™ per slice I might even exclaim, in a moment of true desperation, that I eat it because it is healthy.

Whether because of stress or celebration, I find a reason to visit my Two Brothers on a semi-daily basis. Like any Italian-American marketing strategy will tell you, family is the most important thing. There’s really no one else to turn to when you’ve found yourself at rock bottom, addicted to shitty fucking $1.00 pizza.   

~~~

Hi everyone, Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this essay, or thought it was funny, please share it with your friends and family. Share it with someone who you may think has a similar addiction. 

I wrote this because it's all true, I love $1.00 pizza so much, and it's been a significant roadblock in my journey to lose weight and rebuild my body before Sexy Halloween 2016. W

As of now I've lost 4 pounds... It's really happening! 

I'm having before pictures taken before I lose too much weight. So next week you can look forward to seeing me in my undies. 

Only 250 Days until Sexy Halloween 2016

Thanks again! 

Ian