This heavenly concoction probably requires no explanation if you went to college in the Midwestern US. It’s an alcoholic beverage whose very name conjures images of fun, sometimes nakedness, and usually some chunder.  Consumption at parties is often legendary.

To make this brain cell assassin you only need a few ingredients:

• A clean garbage can
• A boat oar
• Lots of Kool Aid
• Water
• Friends

Once you’ve assembled the ingredients, just invite your friends over with the requirement of a bottle of alcohol to pass (pints are good, fifths are better).  Pour all ingredients into can, mix with oar, serve.

Delish!

Here’s what I’m working with to try to trim the fat:

A decade old, cheap multi-station gym by Weider. Good for a few weight bearing exercises when you don’t have a spotter to help out, but over the years I’ve owned it I’ve found that many of the exercises really put your limbs at funny angles and put stress on joints. So I only use it for about 4 exercises.

A recumbent bike Diane got me for Christmas several years ago. It was a display model - she’s such a bargain hunter!

A new treadmill.  The old one sounded like an air compressor and had a 13″ wide belt - I nearly lost my front teeth several times after stepping 3/4″ beyond the safety margin for the belt.

A heavy (punching) bag. I still need to mount it to that big hunk of wood in the right hand corner. 2 minutes punching that thing and I’m all rubbery.

Not pictured: A Nordic Track, a $50 weight bench and the TV/VCR/DVD thingamabob. Using the Nordic Track hurts my back after awhile, so I don’t use it much.

This ‘room’ is in the basement and I hate feeling like I’m in the dungeon, being punished for my caloric sins, so we had a family paint fest on the back wall. It really cheers the place up and reminds me why I’m doing what I’m doing.

I took my first “before” pictures today to share with the world.

I am disgusted.

Why am I sharing these horrible pictures with people I don’t know? Good question. I don’t even like taking my shirt off in the pool. I guess it’s like quitting smoking, except you’re telling everyone you’re quitting being fat, so they can call you to the carpet when you’re stuffing 4 gas station donuts down your lettuce hole. Or 143 M&M’s.

I ask of you - keep me straight.

Also not to be underestimated is the raw distaste I have looking for at these pictures. I hope the pain involved in posting these will be so great that I’ll do everything I can to shrink in the right places.

Fair or unfair, I feel like I need to compare my current self against the me of 2 decades ago, because that guy didn’t mind taking his shirt off. So you have it for reference, and to offer as proof that there’s a thin person in there somewhere, I offer up a picture of me back then. Kinda scrawny, but a pretty good self-image. And about the same amount of chest hair. Having a twin turbo metabolism didn’t hurt, either.

My stats as of today are:

Weight: 226
Chest Circumference: 44 1/2″
Stomach Circumference (at widest point): 43″

I’m 6′2″ and run about 225#. I’m pretty big.

Too big, really. I can still untuck my shirt just enough to fool you from the front, but if you look from the side, there’s no denying it. I need to be smaller.

I’ve gained a sense of urgency since DJ was born, that if I don’t make myself smaller the odds increase that my kids will be pissing away my life insurance money at a young age. I want to be able to dangle that carrot in front of them until they’re both at least 40.

I’m going to try to get smaller, and if you aren’t repulsed by it I want to take you along for the ride, to chide me, encourage me, berate me, whatever. Unfortunately, I was one of those kids in school that made fun of the fat guy, so my now being the fat guy seems like karma.

So your calling me ‘fatso’ is not only appropriate given my past behavior, it may help to motivate me.

I’ll try to update my progress weekly and intersperse that with diet changes, workout regimens and the other stuff I might be doing to get small. Oh, and to keep me honest, there will be pictures. Horrible, horrible pictures.

If any of this gives someone else a little help and keeps them pestering their kids for another birthday, I’d love it.

I didn’t know that when I had children, I’d be turning our two bathrooms over to the kids, who would promptly fill them with the Magic School Bus, Little People, View-Master and Strawberry Shortcake.

I didn’t know how difficult it would be to navigate the bathroom at night after it’d been stuffed with the kid’s belongings.

I used to like to close the door and lock it when I used the bathroom. I didn’t know that after I had children I’d get accustomed to having the door wide open.

I didn’t know that when I had children I’d frequently have company on my bathroom trips. Agalia just wants to make sure I’m OK and not feeling alone.  Such a sweetie.

I didn’t know I could get good at diverting my children’s attention (or doing the “sit and tuck”) so as to keep my gender a mystery.