Exactly one year and one night ago, I was laying in bed, just like I had been for the previous consecutive 73 hours, aside from the two beelines to the toilet and the pain and energy it took to roll over every few hours so that my body could be in a good enough position to allow oxygen to flow from my lungs to my nose, without being obstructed by the debilitating effects of gravity on fat. I remember laying there, thinking about how fat and horrible I was and that it had to change. Something clicked. I know people say that when they decide to make big changes about themselves. Kind of like that cliche of the cannibal who, one night, decided that after eating all these dudes suddenly had a hankering for steak. Or the suicidal man at the top of a bridge who suddenly decided to strap on a cord and become a professional bungee jumper.

Though I had tried diets and losing weight countless times before, with each one, I knew they would fail. I wasn’t really into them, and I just liked food and not doing anything way too much. This time, I knew I was going to do it from the beginning. I think you have to know you will succeed or you won’t. Either go all in, or don’t go in at all. Either devote an entire year to a strict diet, or let it all hang out. There really is no in-between. If you’re not devoted to it, just eat whatever you want all the time. I’m completely serious. There’s no point to a diet if you just feel guilty every once in a while and decide to have a random healthy meal. Just eat whatever the hell you want until something clicks and you become totally devoted to losing weight. If you’re doing both, kind of in-between, you’re going to have the worst of both worlds. You’re going to be fat and you’re going to sometimes eat horrible, healthy foods.

I guess I figured that once the weight disappeared, the women would come. I started listening to this cornfield and it’s told me some really interesting stuff. I don’t think it was telling me the truth, here, though. Don’t listen to corn and do not base all of your off-topic jokes on 23-year-old movies that nobody will have remembered. They have not yet arrived, but I will be waiting, with your favorite flowers.

Maybe tonight, something will again click and I will be just as devoted to amassing millions of dollars over the next year. Or I will decide that I have to suddenly become a world-famous concert pianist. Who knows, maybe a year and a day from now I’ll be writing a similar blog post in a blog for hookup people seeking relationships with beautiful new pianos.

When on a strict diet, there are a lot of temptations. Hell, even when off a strict diet, there are a lot of temptations. There are places and foods throughout the day that you begrudgingly have to avoid so that you will eventually have a desirable body even though by the time you eventually get to that point, you’re so frustrated and angry with your life that though your body has become desirable, the rest of you has not.

However, the absolute worst place where you could be stranded, while on a strict diet, is unquestionably McDonalds®. This is true across all cultures and countries. If your car isn’t in good working condition and you’re in the middle of nowhere, and the only place in sight is a McDonalds®, go as fast as you can in any other direction.

Yesterday, while driving to Houston from Austin, my car died. A cop picked me up and took me to the nearest city. I said he could drop me off at the McDonalds® there without really thinking about it. When I walked in, the smell was so familiar, it was like I hadn’t missed a step since I’d been in one over a year ago. Like a pre-programmed robot, I walked to the line, knowing exactly what I was going to get: a number one with no cheese and a chocolate shake. When I got to the front of the line, the guy behind the counter looked at me like he must look at every customer. His facial expressions seemed to say something like, “I have to be here, but you don’t. Why would you come here?” I hung my head in shame and mumbled my order and held out my money while trying not to make any eye contact. When I handed him the money, he could have well said, “I know, bro. I know.”

Once I got my food, I walked to the very back corner of the restaurant so nobody would see me, because I know so many people in Bastrop, TX. I sat by the restroom, which was obviously a bad idea because every time someone opened the door, it smelled like, well, a restroom. Actually, in a weird way, the restroom smell blended well with the smell of the food and kind of made the smell better.

Before I left, a cute girl walked in, but I was unable to impress her because I was drowning in McDonalds® food and sitting by myself in a corner by a restroom. However, she was also at McDonalds®, and I failed to think of this at the time. I could have started a whole new life in Bastrop. Instead, I’m back in Houston, eating food outside of bathrooms.

I am currently on a diet, and just recently hit the benchmark of sixty pounds. Is that a benchmark? I don’t know, because I’ve never lost any amount of weight ever before. People say that weight loss often accompanies more energy and less depression. I have experienced neither so far. I am just as sluggish and sad as ever.

The other night, I had to walk up and down a set of stairs twice, and was completely winded by the time I got up the second time. The all too familiar scent of watered-down over-perspiration from years of malnutrition and the body akin to an out-of-shape werewolf came back to me like I was obese all over again. I had flashbacks of horrible dates and Big Macs® which came flooding back in an instant, and I instinctively got in my car and drove to the neighborhood McDonald’s®. I was halfway through the drive-thru when reality kicked in and my sweat-induced hallucination came to a very quick stop as I crashed into the car ahead of me.

Now, not only will my insurance premiums go up, but either one of my parents or one of my siblings will have to know that I was at a McDonald’s®. It is a very good thing that none of this actually happened (after losing 60 pounds) and I just made it up because my life is empty.

In a related story, I am about to go to a wedding this weekend where I will be reunited with a very nice girl that didn’t want more than one date with me after I ruined it by being myself. She is in charge of the food at this wedding, and it’s kind of a coincidence and it might be glorious.

My long-awaited date is only a day away.  In preparation of the festivities, I have gone down my list of potential dates.  First, I eliminated all of my male friends who signed up as a joke.  Next, I took out all of the women who do not live in the same city.  I was then left with three contestants.  I emailed them and asked if they could still come. All three of them refused to go.  Well, they didn’t just say ‘no.’ They sugar-coated it with excuses like “I’m married” or “I’m your mother.”  Truthfully, the excuses were not that barefaced but were equally hurtful.

Now I’m back to where I was two months ago, only 43 pounds thinner.  Though I do not have a date for Friday, I do have a lifetime of not having a heart attack or Diabetes.  Also, I will be able to go shirtless in appropriate places like swimming pools, beaches and libraries.  I am now sweating less and have more energy.  However, I have yet to find the need for more energy.  My average day consists of waking up, showering, working and driving home.  Not one of those activities requires more energy than I already had as an overweight twentysomething.

So I go back to square one and scour 100hookup for dates in Houston.  Though the date will probably not happen, I am a happier person than I was two months ago.  I hear that life is easier as a thin person, and I am excited about that prospect.  I haven’t been out anywhere besides work and Subway® yet.  Hopefully, being thin precludes me from having to talk to girls.  They will just naturally flock to me and give me things.  But first I have to eat this Subway® sandwich.

I am starting to strongly believe that all food on earth tastes exactly like a turkey sandwich.  This warped, yet understandable, view of reality has been provided to my brain by 22 straight days of eating nothing but turkey sandwiches (and one steak).  Turkey sandwiches have permeated every part of my life.  I dream about being forced to continuously eat turkey sandwiches a la Man v. Food.  I think about turkey sandwiches constantly. Turkey sandwiches have become my currency, and I trade them for other turkey sandwiches.  The only escape that I get from this grueling diet is the transitory pleasure of Diet Coke®.

My impending date is coming quickly.  By Friday, I have to pick out the lucky girl.  Right now, it looks like only one girl will actually be in the same city this weekend.  I am also pretty sure that she still thinks that it’s a joke.  I am sure  I will have the last laugh as she sits across from me at a small table at a restaurant and sees that I am wearing a suit while the wait staff sings I Swear to her a cappella style.  Hopefully, if things go well, I will ride that positive momentum and lose my final 20 pounds.

After that, I leave with my family to go to Israel to rescue my brother.  He has been in Jerusalem for the past year studying to be a rabbi.  I do not know where he gets his ultra-religious tendencies.  Regardless, it gives me a free trip to Israel.  Hopefully I will meet my wife there like that  woman last month told me I would.  Oh drunk woman, I hope your insight leads to the fulfillment of that prophecy.

I have decided, for the sake of both of my readers, to take a break from the monotony of talking about the monotony of eating sandwiches.  There are other things in my life as well!  They involve sleeping, working, and occasionally using the restroom.  That’s all I got.  Since this is a blog for an eclectic mix of readers, I will talk about using the restroom.

I recently found out that I love showering in hotels.  It’s like I make up for all of the days of not showering by going on a shower marathon in a hotel.  Of course, this does not include jogging in the shower.  I learned that not only is it not beneficial to your health at all, but can lead to a broken leg that is not easy to explain to people in the concierge line of work.  Recently, in a hotel in Chandler, AZ, I found myself showering for a fourth time in one evening.  Could I be taking more showers?  If you get that, I hate you.  By my fifth shower, my skin had dried out and I had already run out of hotel shampoo twice.  Not only that, I also hadn’t left my hotel room.  I was getting this all wrong my entire life.  Either shower and go out, or don’t shower and don’t go out.

The biggest mistake I often make concerning showers is that I place far too much importance on the effects of one shower.  In other words, not only do I believe that the longer I shower, the longer I can go before my next shower, but I also mistakenly believe that one shower in the morning will keep me fresh until the next morning.  This is often not true.  First, as a modern hookup male, I tend to sweat a lot.  Second, I live in Houston, TX, the hottest city on earth.  (Don’t look that up).  I need to take my ‘hotel mentality’ with me every day.

Also, tomorrow, I hopefully will have lost 40 pounds.  However, I think I look exactly the same.  Maybe it’s because I see myself almost every day.  However, I will trust the holy scale.  My confidence isn’t higher, though.  I still think I have a better chance with women as a skinnier, less sweaty man.  I haven’t been out on a date in a while.  My first one will be in about a week.  I will report everything!

It took me almost two weeks before I met the biggest challenge to any type of weight-loss plan: Grandma’s house.  As a child, Grandma’s house was a wondrous place with candy, soda, food, and a television that had to have been bought in 1957.  At an early age, Grandma’s house was probably where I spent my first Thanksgiving, family dinners, and probably my second and third Thanksgivings as well.  Outside, my dad and uncles grilled meats, whilst on the inside, the women gossiped while garnishing salads.  Of course, there was no grill outside because my grandparents lived on the tenth floor or so.  Also, this is all made up and is an obvious oversimplification based on gender and familial stereotypes learned through television and film.

Actually, my grandparents bought property in the countryside about twelve years ago because we are in Texas and are living stereotypes.  Their ranch has been a rendezvous for holidays and special occasions.  Last night, we met for the Fourth of July.  Dinner consisted of steaks, potatoes, and salad.  Dessert included homemade pies, cookies, brownies, and a Jell-O® mold.  I, of course, was limited by my new diet and had to eat a pre-bought Subway® sandwich.  I had not faced a challenge this large before.  I was literally squeezed in between people eating steaks.  Bloody steaks!  That is not British slang.  They were oozing with blood and my carnal instincts were telling me to murder my cousin just to get one bite.

I haven’t lost any significant amount of weight since my last post.  In fact, I may have gained a little.  I don’t know why.  I blame science.  Bloody science!  My motivational urge to remain on my diet is slipping.  I am very anxious about tomorrow’s weight-in.  On top of that, I have less than two weeks until my self-appointed date night.  I should look at my list of potential candidates and start weeding out the weak.  Here, the weak include men, and women that are just friends.  This leaves me with one person.  I’m looking at you, Sarah!*

*I don’t actually know a Sarah.  I am hiding her name to protect her anonymity as well as myself from lawsuits.

I now know the total number of nights I can force myself to sleep despite hunger.  That number is nine.  Of course, there are people in the world who starve involuntarily, and I can’t imagine how painful that is.  However, on a scale of one to hamburger, my pain has been a steady eight.  It’s not so much that it impairs my ability to move or breathe, but it is enough to make me constantly open the refrigerator and just stare blankly at the empty shelves for minutes at a time.  Another trend I’ve noticed recently are my dreams.  Though usually occupied by school, work, and girls, they now belong completely to food.  Instead of showing up for school with no clothes, I now show up to McDonald’s® with no money.

I have hit a plateau the last few days.  This morning, I woke up starving, but Subway® was not yet open, so naturally I went to the convenience store and bought a Golden Grahams® cereal bar and a Yoo-Hoo® drink.  This meal has a different nutritional value than a dry turkey sandwich on wheat bread.  Also, since I had already broke protocol, I also had Reese’s Pieces® and an Icee® at the movies.  This is all completely contrary to the dietary restrictions I set upon myself ten days ago.  As a result, I am forcing myself to not eat for the rest of the day.  I am a little worried that my escalating hunger may interfere with my writingsdfz.

I think I have to go lay down soon as it is getting more difficult to think of ideas and then write them down.  If you live in the Houston area, and aren’t busy sometime, I would love to take you to Subway®.  The staff knows me by now, though I am pretty sure that one lady is obsessed with my sister.  Wow, there was no reason for me to say that just now.  Just something I thought I’d say.  However, I would love to treat you to a meal so long as that meal consists of a 6-inch sub, no chips, and a tap water.  I do not have much money left as a result of my expensive diet.  I guess I’m an old-fashioned type of romantic.

I lay in bed at 3 am.  I first lay on my back, then switch to my side, and then back.  I check my cell phone for texts or emails.  I turn on the television and watch an hour of Lockup on MSNBC.  My stomach feels empty and sore and there is nothing I can do about it.  I take two Tylenol® PMs as well as more than one full dose of Vicks® NyQuil®. The NyQuil® tastes far more delicious than it has any right to be.  All I can think of is food.  I get out of bed and walk to the kitchen, where all I find are empty Diet Coke® cans and ice cream from 1984.  “I was alive in 1984,” I tell myself.  “It wasn’t that long ago.”  One bite of the 27-year-old ice cream proves to me that time hasn’t been good to everybody.  Also, ice cream shouldn’t be green or smell like my diaper did in its inaugural year.

I toss and turn for another few hours until I finally find myself waking up the next morning.  The diet is taking its toll.  I am always hungry.  I almost can’t stand the sight, smell, or taste of turkey sandwiches.  Recently, (today) I decided to change up my sandwich and got chicken breast instead.  Though it has slightly more calories and fat, it is a sacrifice that I had to make to insure my sanity.  Aside from the physical pain of dieting, I also have to experience of humility as I unwrap my Subway® sub at whatever restaurant where my family/friends are eating.

So far, I have lost 35 pounds.  July 15 could not get here fast enough.  In case you did not know, I am holding open auditions for a date on that very evening.  So far, about 40 men have signed up, as well as three women.  I am flattered at this result.  Though I am not gay, never have so many people, ( in this case men), willingly signed up for a lovely evening with myself.  Of the three women, two are probably kidding, and the third may or may not. All of this data means that you have an overwhelmingly possible shot of me buying food for you.  Until then, I will continue drowning myself in dry sandwiches and Baked! Lay’s®.

Whatever Morgan Spurlock was feeling after about twenty days of nothing but McDonald’s® in the film, Super Size Me, I am feeling the exact opposite after my third day of only Subway®.  I have more energy.  I miraculously somehow have 20/20 vision.  I have the same sense of smell as a dog, the same amount of memory as an elephant, the adorableness of a kitten.

In reality, it has only been three days.  Not much feels that different.  However, my weight is coming off nicely, and hopefully by July 15, I will at least appear presentable for my open casting call for a date.  Either that or I will starve to death with a sub sandwich in my mouth and an unattainable dream of being skinny in my heart.  My craving for non-Subway® food is still bearable.  I am not yet sick of turkey, applicable vegetables, or honey mustard.

Next, I should pick a location for the event.  A restaurant, though cliché, would be a good venue as I will want non-Subway® food more desperately than I will want a girlfriend.  I should warn the Western world that I will probably pay little to no attention to my date during the commencement of the eating of the food.  Maybe I should call the date off and go by myself to a steakhouse.  Or I could take my talents to an all-you (I)-can-eat buffet.  Or I could take a tour of an ice cream factory or a slaughterhouse.  That is maybe a little too morbid.  The poor ice cream.

I believe though, that this date may be great because my main objective will be to fill my stomach.  Once that is satisfied, there will be no pressure or disappointment.  I think that this may turn out to be great.