Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 13 (It's Really Part 100)

Stepped on the scale tonight, and I've lost 100 pounds now. I never thought I would get here, that number is just so unreal to me. I can't believe where I was a year ago, compared to where I'm at today. I'm just having so much fun with working out and getting into shape; it gets addictive, like a drug.

Which is what makes having a cold so frustrating. I've had one since last week, and having to constantly blow my nose or hack for a solid minute is just draining.

See, for someone my size, I think I have a lot of energy. Most nights, the only reason I leave the gym is because it closes. Basketball, elliptical, weights ... whatever, I love working out in all of its forms. I feel like, on any given night, I can work out for 2-3 hours. Most nights, I don't get over there until later on, so I'm working out anywhere between 1 and 1.5 hours. I feel good, but so many nights, I could run home, no sweat.

But with a cold, breathing is 10 times harder. And, as a result, working out is much harder. I haven't been able to approach my normal numbers on my typical program on the elliptical (I usually set it to the weight loss program -- after 33 minutes, I'm in the neighborhood of 2.73 miles walked and 550 calories burned).

But with a cold, it's so hard to get that momentum; once I feel like I'm cleared up and feeling good, I'm tired and ready to call it a night. It's especially frustrating, because I've gotten plenty of rest all week long. So when I head to the gym, ideally, I'm not already suffering from fatigue and trying to catch up. But, even being well-rested, I'm having problems getting up to speed ... because of this damn cold.

And yet I've continued to make a little bit of progress, and tonight, I paid off in the form of hitting triple digits. I don't know what I envisioned when I started this, but losing 100 pounds never seemed realistic. Now? There isn't anything I can't do.

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 12 (Before and After)

August 2005:	November 2006:

For clarification, the sheep I'm holding is Mikaela and Dusty's travel buddy, Gulliver. The photo was taken at Cannon Beach about two months before I thought about losing weight.

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 11 (Heavy)

When I started this process 11 months ago, I was hellbent on losing weight. At the time, lifting weights wasn't even on my radar. Either I was on the elliptical for awhile each night, or I threw some basketball into the mix.

Well, I've lost almost 90 pounds. I still have quite a gut, but partially with the encouragement of friends, I'm taking the next step and lifting weights.

I started last Monday, getting a few reps in on the bench press. I wasn't able to get back to lifting until Friday, which should give you an idea of how little upper body strength I have. I ended up going back Saturday and continuing work on my arms with a few different machines. And you know what? It's not the day after that's bad -- it's the day after the day after.

So tonight, with my arms and chest still tight from Saturday, I went to work on my legs after a trip on the elliptical.

Thanks to 11 months on an elliptical machine and the fact that they've had to support all that weight all these years, my legs are pretty strong. Always have been. So on most of the machines, I didn't have to push myself too hard.

I rounded out the night with about 15 minutes of one-on-none basketball, and I was dismal. Still reeling from lifting weights on Saturday, a good portion of my shots airballed by six inches to a foot. Dusty, with whom I play basketball most often, will tell you that's normal. Well, he would be wrong.

And I ran around pretty well, retrieving missed shots from all corners of the gym. I even told Dusty as I came back to the apartment that my legs weren't that tired and that I could have pushed myself harder.

Then I sat down to check e-mail, MySpace messages and Blazers news. Once I got up from that, KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS THAT HURT, in the words of Ron Burgendy. My legs will not be liking me tomorrow. They're already grumbling. But while I'm getting trim and fit, why not get SOME definition going, right?

But that's my general goal from here on out. I adjusted my work schedule so I can adjust my workout schedule and give myself more gym time each night. Today is a model for how I'd like it to go at least three days a week -- elliptical, weights, basketball. The other two or three days, I'll stick with the elliptical or basketball (or both). I don't want to overdo it with the weights.

The last time I tried lifting weights in 2004, I did so for about a month or two, and I noticed, at one point, a small bulge pop up in my arm -- real live muscle! So I'm hoping to continue what I started two years ago the WSU Vancouver gym.

It's a little harder for me now, because I'm so new to this, and there are so many people around. When I worked out at WSU Vancouver, Brian and I usually had the gym to ourselves, and I was less afraid around one of my best friends. Now? Seeing kids five years my junior walking around with well-defined arms and benching more than I ... it's a little discouraging. But I've slowly realized that, at the gym: 1) no one is there to make fun of you, it's an encouraging enviornment, and 2) people don't pay much attention to you. So that makes things easier.

I also started doing crunches today. After 20 (4 reps of 5 ... 2 reps were with my legs kinda crossed and bending right or left on my way up), my abs are wow.

***

People ask me what weight I'm aiming for or what my goal is. And the most specific I can ever get is "healthy." See, I've never been skinny -- go back to kindegarten, and I was rockin' bigger shirts than most of my peers.

So let's say I lose another 50 pounds and get down to 230. I have no idea what I'll look like; I have pretty broad shoulders, and I am seriously just "big-boned" (hehe). So would I even LOOK healthy at 200 pounds? I don't know.

I don't quite know where I'm going with this lifestyle change I've embarked over the past 11 months, but my goals only get as specific as: lose fat, add muscle, live healthy-ish. I want to get comfortable enough to take my shirt off once in awhile. I want to be able to run up and down the court at the YMCA without getting pushed around or gasping for breath. I want to be able to ride my bicycle all over Vancouver.

When I started this process, I had a goal in mind for where I wanted to be at by January 2007, and I know I won't be there. But since starting, my priorities have shifted --- it's no longer about getting to a certain number by a certain time; that's ASKING for disaster, if you ask me. I've haven't been on that pace for a few months now, but once you lost 40-50 pounds, it gets harder to lose weight, because there's just less to lose.

And it's not like I'm eyeing a date or a milestone at which I can get off this high horse and go back to McDonalds. This is a lifestyle change. It's going to be with me as long as I live. I'll still be rocking the elliptical or playing basketball when I'm 30 and 40.

***

One of the best feeling to come from this, aside the whole 'feeling and looking better' part of it, is that I've had a few people say something like, "well because of you, I've started walking more" or "After listening to you, I've been trying to eat less" or whatever. That kind of stuff makes me feel a little weird, but also good. I'm glad people are listening or reading and that maybe something I've said has been helpful. All I'm doing is talking about what helped me -- what worked for me might not work for anyone else. But for people to listen and become inspired, even if it's only a little bit ... wow. I mean, you don't even know.

***

If all this seems a little to stream-of-concsious or whatever, that's because I'm getting all my thoughts down now, so when the time comes for me to do something else with this ... whatever that may be ... I won't have to scratch my head and wonder what I thought, say, when I started lifting. Because I don't know what will become of this, but I'm sure it'll wind up as something else someday.

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 10 (Holy Freaking Cow)

When I work out, it's usually the same process. I put on my blue polyester Starter-brand shorts and a 4XL plain red shirt.

I walk over to the YMCA with something motivational or energetic playing on my iPod. Even with my over-sized headphones, I get myself into a zone with the help of Jay-Z, U2, Rage Against the Machine, Oasis, Lupe Fiasco, Kanye West, Talib Kweli, Green Day, Blink-182 ... the list goes on.

I usually buy a bottle of water from the Aquafina machine at the basketball court before walking upstairs, where the elliptical machines are.

But before working out, I take off my headphones, set them in a nearby chair with my towel and step on the scale.

For about 10 months now, the scale -- whether it's at Kaiser Permanente, 24 Hour Fitness or the YMCA -- readings have been getting smaller and smaller. What started at 372 pounds in November 2005 became 293 pounds at the end of August 2006.

So tonight, for the first time since coming back from San Francisco and walking about 30 miles (including treks up 2 of San Fran's famous hills), I started the process. Took my shirt out of the closet. Grabbed the shorts out of my dresser. Retrieved my iPod from the charging dock. Headed to the YMCA. Bought my bottle of water. Stepped on the scale.

Now, while I walked 30 miles, I also indulged in whatever sounded good. Coldstone Ice Cream? Why not! Fish and chips? Sure! No, I never went anywhere near soda pop, and my breakfast the first three days was little more than a bagel or two Eggo waffles with a glass of orange juice.

So I stepped on the scale, hopeful that my eating habits were balanced by my walking in San Francisco.

Well, the habits weren't balanced. If anything, it went the other way.

Since August 31st, I've lost 8 pounds, which puts me at 87 pounds lost on the whole. You can't pry the smile off my face right now.

It's a huge leap for me. Since falling below 300 pounds, I've held this fear that I was fooling myself if I thought I could keep going. Like, somehow, I would wind up at or above 300 pounds again, no matter what I did. But with every pound I lose, I get further and further from that number. It's a feeling comparable to how I felt when I started losing weight and went in the opposite direction of 400 pounds.

I can't tell you how happy I am about the progress and the fact that all my efforts have paid off to date. This has been the single most difficult but rewarding thing I've ever done, but it's not over yet. Don't think that for a second.

I was listening to sports radio this morning when the host, in a point that only tangentially connected to something sports-related, said something that made a whole shitton of sense. You can't rely on others for happiness. You need to make your own happiness.

For years, I thought, "wow, if only I could go out with "Girl X," I would be happy, and everything would be great." Well, it's not true. As happy as that relationship might make me, I would inherit all the problems that came with that (yeah, I said it).

So this blissful future that existed in my head would never come to pass, and in my blindness, I wouldn't see the problems that inevitably arise.

Instead of planning or expecting the worst, it's easy to sort of plan for it. Expect the idiot driver on the way to work. Know that the boss will be mad some day. It's all part of the package. So when it comes down and the shit hits the fan, at the very least, I can see the small things and know what's really important and know what makes me happy.

And it's true. I could hope and wish to lose weight from here until I had a heart attack, but nothing would change the fact that no one besides me would lose my weight. Weight loss brings happiness, so I needed to make my own happiness. And I've done it.

No, scratch that. I'm doing it.

It isn't over yet.

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 9 (Back from the Dead)

Simple as that. Fall seven times, stand up eight.

For over a month now, I've been working out at least 5 times per week, usually 6. This is up from the 3-4 nights a week I was working out beforehand. I've replaced most of the solitary basketball shoot-arounds with more elliptical time.

I've been making an effort to eat more fruits and veggies. A friend who is much smarter than I showed me how to make some seriously superb salads that could serve as the main course in a meal.

Beyond that, I've been buying more fruits, vegetables and bagged salad. The problem there is that, after putting my bananas or apples or oranges in the refrigerator ... I forget about them until well after they’ve gone bad. But I have been enjoying chicken salads from Quizno's pretty regularly. That's gotta count for something.

And here I am, knocking on 300's doorstep. Right now, at 302 pounds, is the lightest I've been in five years. The last time I was at this weight, I had a girlfriend, was two months removed from high school, I was working security, and I still ate fast food. My exercise routine was walking around (A LOT) twice a week.

My how the times have changed!

Even a year ago … if you would have said to me a year ago that I would lose 70 pounds, work out almost every day, eat healthy and all that good stuff, I wouldn't have even laughed. The thought would have been too absurd. Granted, I was trying to lose weight at the time, but that was when I thought leisurely walks, Big Gulps and hot dogs would do the trick.

Perhaps my greatest victory yet came last Thursday. I went into Fred Meyer and stopped at the clothing department. Instead of making a bee-line for the "Big and Tall" section, I took a gamble on a good ol' XXL shirt. Up until this point, I've worn a 3XL shirt for about two to three years.

You can't find 3XL shirts in most clothing outlets. Big brands don’t touch 3XL. There are "special sections" for "big and tall" folks, and sometimes, there are ... "special stores." And speaking of which ... "big and tall?" Who in the hell do these people think they're fooling? Give me a break!

Anyway, I tried on a 2XL shirt -- a white Adidas shirt promoting "All City Basketball" and a navy shirt with the three stripes sewn on over the heart.

And miracle of miracles, they fit! Even after the shrinkage that comes with washing them ... the shirts fit! Not only do they fit, but I look good in them. Damn good.

So, knowing that I was on the road, a straight and narrow path paved in fruits and surrounded by water, I turned around to the Big and Tall section. I took a look at the shirts, not a single fashionable color to be found among them, and I waved good bye. I waved good bye to the Big and Tall section forever.

And as I paid for the items, I thought to no one in particular, "good luck, my big-boned brethren. I hope you find your way out of the cotton and khaki jungle and come out slimmer on the other side. But I can no longer join you in the embarrassing experience of shopping for 3XL clothing items. For I have to work out tomorrow."

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 8 (That's It)

I moved in early April to an apartment 10 minutes from "home" with my best friend, who was just finishing up his active duty in the Army. 24 Hour Fitness didn't make sense anymore, but because the complex is on the same plot of land as the YMCA athletic club, I received a free membership as part of the lease agreement.

Saving $40 per month and having a gym in my own backyard? Where do I sign?

Truth be told, since moving in, I've only maybe used the elliptical ten or so times ... at the most. Mostly, I'm taking advantage of the nice spring weather and playing basketball with Dusty (and sometimes Mikaela).

I go out for lunch pretty much every day at work, but other than that, I'm pretty good about meals. Not perfect, but who is?

That's something I've learned about weight loss, too. Anyone making a real concerted effort and dedicating themselves to living healthier shouldn't sweat it when they eat more than they should. Sometimes, that happens. Don't beat yourself up, just try harder next time.

I weighed myself last Saturday and was at 303.5 pounds. By the time I hit my seven-month anniversary Monday, I don't see why I shouldn't be at 300 pounds, give or take a pound. That would place me at about ten pounds per month average.

People say they see a difference. I hope so. This wasn't about me and improving myself, though; I'll cop to hoping to impress those around me with a slimmed down physique. I still have a long way to go, though.

Here, in the ultra-condensed form, is how I did it. It may or may not work for others ... but it helped me.

-No soda pop, just water.
-Nothing deep-fried.
-One cup of juice per day, at most. Even 100% juice contains empty calories.
-Three solid meals. Almost no snacks.
-Substantial exercise three-four times per week.
-Following my exercise routine.
-Making up for it when I miss a work-out.
-Not going back for seconds or thirds.
-Working out even when I don't want to.
-Salads salads salads salads.

That's the gist. It's not a magic diet. It's just a lot of lifestyle changes. I went from eating fast food twice or three times every single day to losing 10 pounds per month. And if I came before you and said "it's the hardest thing" or "I can't believe how difficult it's been," I would be lying. Because it's just a matter of getting my mind on something and not giving up, no matter what.

Am I where I want to be? Not even close. I'm probably about 50% to where I want to be. And it's only going to get more difficult. When you don't have the weight to lose, you have to do more to keep it coming off. And I'll have to eat less. But as I get there, I'll make the adjustments. I've been able to so far ... no reason I can't when the times start changing.

People are quick to try South Beach, Sonoma, Atkins, Richard Simmons ... whatever. But the problem is that those diets get people to a certain point. Then, people revert back to their old way of living. I think the key is all in your head: you can go off a diet, but you can't just switch up your lifestyle changes, if you really care and are committed.

Look, I don't mean to be condescending. God knows I've had my battles with weight loss over the years. But the big thing is ... it's all mental. Every choice about food, drink or exercise ... it's all made with cause and effect, consequences and repercussions, in mind.

Like I said, I'm not perfect. But I've lost 70 pounds in 7 months and want to lose 70 more. 80 more. Whatever. It's not about where I end up, but really how I get there and stay there. And that's going to make all the difference as I get closer to my goal.

"It can be done. And I am living proof. BEEFCAKE!" - Cartman

The end.

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 7 (Hiccup)

I started my new job in mid-December. Gone were the days of $12/month gyms. On the other hand, gone too were the days of spending upwards of 2 hours in my car each day heading to or from work. Now, work was a 10-minute drive from home (on a busy day).

From the day I started my new job, I knew riverside walks wouldn't get the job done. If I wanted to really shed the pounds, I needed to join a gym. And to take advantage of my erratic schedule, 24 Hour Fitness seemed like the perfect choice.

I was hoping to take advantage of the whole "new year, new YOU!" type promotions - in other words, I tried to capitalize on the New Years resolutions, which seemed like logical promotions.

It would end up being two weeks without working out. And it was incredibly difficult. I didn't want to become one of those workout-burnouts after just five weeks of trying like crazy to lose weight. In other words, I didn't want to fall back into the same trap I'd become ensnared in many times before.

One night, I came up with the bright idea of running up and down the stairs at my home. Three days later, I could walk again. My knees didn't fully forgive me for a week.

I did the river walk one night. Really stepped it up, too. Walked more than usual. But it was time.

So I signed up on a Monday night and was in on the elliptical pretty regularly for the next three months. I played basketball occasionally, but the court was usually busy. So it was on the elliptical four days a week for between 33-48 minutes. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday. If I missed a day, I had the weekends. I kept track of my progress on the scale. The weight continued going down, down, down.

My eating habits were good, too. I wasn't really making food for myself, though. Cooking was not yet an art I'd mastered. Things were good. Life was good.

Then I moved. Another change was on the horizon.

To be continued ...

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 6 (Redemption)

After hearing the news that I was closer to 400 pounds than I had ever been, I didn't waste anytime. The doctor had managed to put the fear of an early grave in me.

At the behest of another very good friend (word up, Lena!), I started keeping track of everything I ate, my sleep schedule and my exercise habits on a form downloaded from Flylady.net.

Before I go any further, let me just endorse the idea of writing down everything you eat. Every time I think about cheating a little bit, just thinking about having to write it down and hold yourself accountable is enough to make me back away from the food.

So on the first day after finding out the news, I had a bowl of Special K for breakfast, some Sun Chips for a snack, some Caesar salad, cheese and crackers for lunch, my Mom's chocolate chip cookies for an afternoon snack, a chicken breast, couscous and salad for dinner and cookies and Sun Chips for dinner. With no exercise.

Not the best way to start a lifestyle change.

By the way ... IT'S NOT A DIET. IT NEVER HAS BEEN A DIET. AND IT NEVER WILL BE A DIET.

Diets, you can go on and off of. Either you or someone you know has almost surely at some point gone on a diet. And they've almost as surely gone off the diet. It's easy to do. But a lifestyle change? There's no turning back once you commit yourself to something as serious and permanent-sounding.

Don't worry - the second day was much better. I had Special K for breakfast, a ham sandwich with Baked Lays and water for lunch and a snazzy little psuedo-Meixcan pizza dish for dinner. Oh yeah, and I got acquainted with the elliptical at my employer's gym.

For the next six weeks, I worked out three times a week, every week. I spent 35 or so minutes on the elliptical machine and another half hour playing basketball. I stopped snacking. I drank water almost exclusively.

It's all about committing so much of myself to this one thing ... it has been the only thing in my entire life I've completely thrown myself into (besides the school newspaper). And I think, for people who want to lose weight - who really want to push themselves - that's what it takes.

But after two weeks, I had lost four pounds. After a month, I lost 10 pounds.

Then in mid-December, I left Fred Meyer and found my true calling: working for the local newspaper. Gone was the cheap gym membership, quick and healthy cafeteria lunch options and the routine I'd become used to over the previous six weeks.

It was time to adapt.

To be continued ...

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 5 (November 5, 2005)

It had been six months since I got my first dose of weight loss reality. On Friday, November 4th, I sat in my family room, riffing about weight loss and my frustrations to mom. I was scared, nervous, tense and frustrated. At most, I figured I had lost 10 pounds over the previous three-month stretch.

So the next morning, I woke up and went up to Kaiser for a weigh-in. I didn't bother with breakfast; the way I looked at it, every pound counted toward the final total.

I didn't wait long and stepped on the wholly accurate digital scale, which looked like an out-of-order treadmill.

In mid-May, I weighed 351 pounds.

By November 5, I weighed 372 pounds.

I was mortified. I picked up Subway on the way home, called Mikaela and met her down by the river for our weekly (or so) 2-mile walk. It was cold and wet outside, but when we met, it wasn't raining.

We walked for a mile as I replayed the scene over and over in my head. I was probably six months away from 400 pounds. Four hundred pounds. Say it out loud.

We made it about a half mile before the rains start falling. We stepped under a bank of trees separating the trail from the river, and this moment ... Mikaela will always be one of my best friends for what happened next.

I tried to keep it together, rationalizing how I'd gotten to this point and scared about what to do next. If I wanted to make positive changes, ... well, I wasn't thinking about positive changes. I was scared to death. How long would it be before I suffered a heart attack? And I quit eating fast food - shouldn't I be in better shape?

Finally, I couldn't keep it in anymore. I cried. Not just an idle tear; more like a puddle. Mikaela gave me a hug, and I cried. Whatever momentum I thought I'd established had evaporated.

I remember an episode of The Simpsons where Homer got to work from home after ballooning to 315 pounds. Homer had nothing on me. And that scared me. Would I need a muumuu? A motorized cart? In short ... what was wrong with me?

I cried until the tears wouldn't come anymore. I cried harder than I ever had. Mikaela never once came down on me or even tried to cheer me up; she knew that I just needed to go through this. Your best friends are the ones who are there when you need them most ... and Mikaela was there. If she hadn't met me down by the river that morning, who knows what would have happened?

Eventually, when I caught my breath, we agreed to continue our walk at the mall, which was undercover and much warmer. So we did just that. We walked from one end to the other. Slowly but surely, my mind drifted away from the horrors of weighing 372 pounds and more toward the positive steps I needed to start taking.

We put together a shopping list. Mikaela gave me tips for losing weight. I still had my gym membership at work.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't going to say, "I'll start my diet tomorrow."

If you've never thrown yourself into trying to lose weight ... well, it's easily the single most daunting thing I've undertaken in my life. Every aspect of my life, from the physical activity to the food to my attitudes on weight loss, needed changing.

I realized that I could never "treat myself" to a KFC snacker again. I'd taken my last sip of Diet Coke. Post-workout hot dogs were a thing of the past. Hell, those walks were a thing of the past. Literally, when it came to my diet, every single thing changed.

Even my attitudes about dieting changed. Try this on for size: I refused to say I was on a "diet." Being ON a diet means you can go OFF the diet, and I didn't want to give myself the option to slip and fall. It is and always has been a lifestyle change.

November 5, 2005. It was a turning point. It's when I bottomed out. It was the slap in the face I needed but feared. It was the end of one stage of my life, and the beginning of another ... a much happier, healthier stage.

To be continued ...

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 4 (Back to Square One)

Last March, I went to the doctor and discovered that, in spite of my steady fast food diet and a total lack of physical activity outside of my normal grocery store job, I weighed the same as I did in high school: 300 pounds.

This encouraged me to keep doing what I was doing: no fast food and no physical activity. I thought that, by virtue of not eating out all the time, I would shed the pounds like crazy.

So when I went to the doctor in May to talk about some anti-depressant alternatives (I was on Zoloft at the time), imagine my surprise when I tipped the scale at 355 pounds.

I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe it. So the nurse weighed me on the digital scale, which corroborated the slide scale's reading.

I was incredulous. Had I gained 50 pounds in two months? No, the nurses told me, the slide scales can be "off" by up to 50 pounds. Which prompted the question, "what the fuck are they good for, then?"

Both the nurse and the doctor shrugged off the egregious nature of the sliding scale as if it were no big deal that I was 50 pounds heavier than I thought.

My visit turned into one long lecture about how I'm in "serious trouble" and I "need to do something before it's too late." I never got around to my original complaint: anti-depressants suck.

I scheduled an appointment for two weeks later. In the mean time, I gave up all my favorite fried foods from the deli, stopped drinking soda and watched my diet a lot more carefully.

It worked: I lost 4 pounds in 2 weeks. I was well on my way.

Right around that time, I graduated from Washington State University Vancouver. By June 1st, I would be out of the grocery store gig and into an all new office life, writing advertising copy for the same company. Instead of busting my ass filling shelves, running around the store, scooping up carts and cashiering, I sat in a plush chair and typed away on my computer all day.

And I'll admit, the job was nice early on. After two or three weeks, I started taking walks down by the Vancouver riverfront or at a local park to make up for the exercise I wasn't getting anymore. All the while, I had a membership at the company's in-house gym, which I used exactly twice at that point.

I did the two-mile walks three or four times each week. As the walks became easier, I stopped really breaking a sweat. I thought I was making progress.

Instead of walking more (or more often), I was content to stick with this routine. And, as a result, I would reward myself for doing such great work! The reward usually consisted of two hot dogs (for $2.22), a bag of Reese's Pieces and a Super Big Gulp Diet Coke (yep, back on the soda bandwagon) from 7-11.

Once or twice, I went by Wendy's for the Crispy Chicken Combo (biggie sized) with a Diet Coke. Somehow, I convinced myself it wasn't fast food: the chicken is healthy! There isn't much mayonnaise! The fries aren't greasy! It's Diet Coke!

Other times, I would go by KFC and buy three of their "snackers" (bun, chicken, lettuce and sweet secret sauce), a side of baked beans/cole slaw/potato wedges and a Diet Pepsi.

Whatever "no fast food" declaration I had made was effectively moot. I guess it's not that bad in moderation, but when it came to fast food, I just couldn't contain myself: I needed it all the time. I lied to friends about my meals. I wasn't eating at a rate of three or four times each day, but I was still eating it five or six times each week, easily.

I woke up one mid-October morning and noticed something I'd never seen before. A second chin. Every time I nodded to myself in the mirror, I felt like tucking the fold underneath my first chin so it wasn't as obvious. It didn't seem to jive with the whole idea that I was losing weight. I wasn't feeling any better. I was starting to buy 4xl shirts.

Something was terribly wrong.

To be continued ...

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 3 (Fall Seven Times, Get Up Eight)

Say what you will about Morgan Spurlock's methods, his agenda, his truthfulness ... it didn't matter to me. I walked out of "Super Size Me" in June, resolving to take better care of myself.

That I saw the movie at all was a bit of a fluke; my good friend Evan had recommended the film, and if there's one thing you have to know about Evan, it's that he knows his shit when it comes to movies. If I had never seen the movie, I can't imagine how else I would have ever been motivated enough to lose weight. Even though I've slipped and fallen a few times since then, Evan's "Super Size Me" recommendation was really the catalyst for everything that happened over the next 18 months (and counting).

Finally, for the first time ever, I was throwing myself into a diet and committing myself fully.

And it lasted exactly a week.

Five days later, I stopped into Jack in the Box before working a graveyard shift. Even after only five days without fast food, I noticed the difference. It was heavy, greasy and just really unpleasant.

I knew I had messed up and was determined not to let it happen again. Feeling that badly reminded me of what it was like to eat fast food regularly, so I got back up and gave up fast food again.

And for awhile, it worked.

I started eating at home more often and actually cooking (one of my early success stories? Fajitas). My friendship with Brian (my co-editor at the newspaper) blossomed, so I joined him in working out at my college's gym. Three days a week, I used the elliptical machine and hit the weights. Between the gym and the home cooking, I really felt like I was accomplishing something.

I wasn't noticing a smaller stomach, but I saw small bicep muscles appearing. I discovered my calves getting stronger. It was enough to keep me going up until school started in August 2004.

Fall semester started, and I was in over my head. In addition to a full load of classes, I was writing for a fledging alt-weekly newspaper, running the college newspaper and working weekends at Fred Meyer.

So with less free time than ever, I stopped working out and started eating fast food. Yes, I reverted back to my old habits after two months.

At the time, I was too busy to be worried about eating fast food, and I stopped working out. I rotated between Sunrise Bagels (for the cheesy bacon bagel), McDonalds, Burger King and Burgerville for breakfast. Lunch consisted of fish 'n' chips or hamburger and fries. I caught dinner on the way home. If it was a work night, I grabbed something on the way to work, at work and again after work.

This continued through mid-January.

Early in January, I was eating three cheeseburgers and washing them down with a large diet coke on the way to school. By the time I got to school and booted up my computer in the office, I had to use the bathroom. I could feel the crap foods making their way through my system. Something was definitely wrong.

On January 14, I grabbed Burger King for breakfast and headed to the local school district offices for a high school transcript (I was applying for graduate school at the time). I got to the parking lot outside the main office and felt worse than I had at any point in the previous six months (during which I was actually eating fast food regularly).

I wasn't going so far as to start working out, but I was again laying off the fast food. That was January 2005. To this day, I haven't touched Burger King, McDonalds, Taco Bell or any of that nonsense since January 15.

I was eating healthier and feeling good, up until March. I caught a pretty nasty virus around that time, which essentially acted like a prolonged cold. Hoping for anything to help, I went to the doctor's office, where I stepped on the scale weighing 300 pounds.

Before you recoil at that number, know this: I had weighed 300 pounds just after a summer of walking almost 30 miles every weekend in 2001. So, knowing that my fast food binging hadn't caused any weight gain was an enormous relief.

I couldn't believe my good fortune.

As I learned two months later, I shouldn't believe my good fortune, either.

To be continued ...

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 2 (My Turn to the Dark Side)

It was the spring of 2004, well into my second headfirst foray into the world of fast food (I was eating out regularly throughout my senior year of high school, as well). Depending on my schedule, I would grab McDonalds or donuts for breakfast. My best friend and I would get cheeseburgers from the burger joint nearest to our college for lunch, or I would hit up McDonalds. For dinner, I would eat at one of the aforementioned burger joints or the other, depending on where I went earlier that day.

Then I would eat dinner at work; my lunch break usually consisted of a frozen TV dinner or deli sandwich and potato/macaroni salad. And on the way home, I occasionally stopped by Jack in the Box, McDonalds, Burger King or whoever else happened to be open at 11 p.m.

This was an everyday occurrence. I was averaging fast food two, maybe three times a day. Half-full cereal boxes at home were thrown out. The sandwich meats in my family's refrigerator went to waste. The dinners my parents saved me went down the drain. The only thing I came home for was soda pop (and that was usually to refill the Diet Coke I had already drank on my way home from getting food). At my worst, I was averaging 3-5 Diet Cokes a day. I never drank water.

I began noticing that a set of stairs became difficult. Pulling boxes from the back room at work became tenuous. And in the occasional pickup basketball game, I routinely let my opponents drive by uncontested. It's hard to block shots when you're too busy with your hands on your knees and your face between your legs.

Still, I couldn’t convince myself to drive past a Burger King without buying something. I always said I didn’t have the time to make something, the money to buy something healthy or the know-how to actually get myself onto a balanced diet.

I ate as much fast food as my schedule allowed for. Sometimes for breakfast, I would go to the bagel shop nearby and buy two bagels with cheese and bacon and proceed to call it "healthy" by virtue of being a bagel. And this was on a weekday. On weekends, when my schedules were more flexible, fast food four times a day was pretty much the norm.

On the non-food side of things, I was on my way to becoming the Managing Editor of my school's newspaper, where I met Brian, my co-editor. We didn't know each other very well; all I really knew was that he was on Atkins.

This fast food habit kept up through. By the summer, I was up to nearly 20 times per week. At the time, I lived within a 15-minute drive of more than 20 fast food outlets. Wendy's, Jack in the Box, McDonalds, Taco Bell, Burgerville, Dairy Queen, KFC, Arbys and a few others I'm sure I can't remember were close enough so that I didn't feel like I was going out of my way to pick up dinner.

Sometimes, I would have a sausage biscuit with egg, a plain sausage biscuit, a hashbrown and a large Diet Coke for breakfast. Lunch would be a big mac, a plain hamburger, large fries and a large diet coke. Then dinner might be a crispy chicken sandwich, a cheeseburger, large fries and a large diet coke.

That's a lot of McDonalds. Of course, I mixed it up most of the time. I let my heart do the talking, even as my head screamed, "you fucking idiot! Don't you realize what you're doing! You're killing yourself! Have a bowl of cereal! A salad! A ham sandwich! For fuck sake, your heart is crying a river of tears, fatty!"

Then, on June 21, 2004, I saw a double feature: "Dodgeball" and "Super Size Me."

"Dodgeball" was hilarious. But "Super Size Me" changed my life.

To be continued ...

Matt's Weight Loss Odyssey: Part 1 (The Boring Introduction)

My name is Matt. I'm 23 years old. On November 6, 2005, I went to the doctor's office, only to find I weighed 372 pounds. For reference, that's roughly equal to, oh, 372 cans of chili. That's a lot of chili. Since then, I've been on a mission to lose weight. And, nearly six months after that fateful day, I've lost 50 pounds and climbing (or falling).

So I'm going to tell my story. Then I'll continue to chronicle my continuing efforts. And who knows what else? It'll be interesting, whatever it is.

It'd be nice if, for reference, I had a "before" photo to share. Unfortunately, the only known (recent) photos of myself picture me in a two-sizes-too-large black graduation gown. Bad reference point. Alas, you're just going to have to trust me here when I tell you that, six months ago, I was big. Uncomfortably big. How did I get to that point?

As long as I can remember, I've been a big kid. Sure, I was teased and taunted all through school, and I probably have a good many years of therapy ahead of me. But I was never ridiculously overweight.

I stayed active by playing baseball in the spring, riding bikes and hiking in the summer and -- for two years -- playing basketball in the winter. Not just that, but my first job at age 16 (bagging groceries at the local Safeway) kept me busy.

In my junior year of high school, the Atkins diet really took hold, and one of my bosses extolled the virtues. He himself had lost a noticeable amount of weight seemingly overnight, and I was intrigued.

I went to bed one Saturday, determined to shed weight quickly. Up to this point in my life, I'd been perpetually single; I never even attended a high school dance. I didn't have any self-confidence, which I blamed my weight on. So, the line of thought was that if I could lose weight overnight, I'd be confident, and the ladies would flock to my side.

I woke up the next morning, had breakfast and went to work. My boss asked how it was going.

"Well, for breakfast, I had a couple pieces of sausage, a couple of eggs, three slices of toast --"

"You blew it, man. That toast right there was 20 carbs."

I was stunned into never giving Atkins another shot.

It even worked in 2001 for a spell. I was living in Seattle, attending one of those fast-food computer schools, and I was a security guard on the weekends. I worked 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. Saturday and Sunday, which should give you an idea of my social life. Anyway, my job involved loading up with a solid 10 pounds of shit - a Mag Lite, a clip board, two dozen keys, , a cell phone and a heavy pen-like object used to register each checkpoint my route - and lugging it around a complex roughly five times the size of a Wal-Mart Supercenter.

I would come back to Vancouver every other weekend, and my weight loss was obvious. It had as much to do with walking 20 miles every weekend as it did with the fact I rarely ate. Then, when my once and only girlfriend broke up with me, the food intake came to a grinding halt. I just lost interest in eating. My food intake was down to maybe a donut for breakfast and a bowl of spaghetti-os for dinner.

Realizing I was pissing money down the drain, I moved back home and took another job in another grocery store while completing my degree.

That was almost five years ago now, and since then, I periodically told myself I would start dieting tomorrow. Every couple of months, I would make a determined post in my other blog about wanting to lose weight, but I never made it past day 1. Never.

Two years after graduating from high school in 2003, I was only going through the drive-thru here and there. Mostly, I was decent about eating around the house.

Then at a certain point in mid 2004, I drifted to the Dark Side, as it were. Fast food wasn't an exception - it was the rule.

To be continued ...