Wednesday, July 24, 2013


I watched my family eat delicious food on our first night at the beach two weeks ago, also my first day off-diet. Fried everything, cornbread, hush puppies: the foods we permanent restrictors see in visions of heaven, awaiting our arrival on La-Z-Boy couches with live goat-pillows while Dumb and Dumber plays on repeat. I grew an immediate ache in my gut as I wondered if my lifelong decision to restrict was wastefully, abnormally, sufferingly incorrect.

Adult males and females are not meant to maintain mid-single- and mid-teen-digit body fat percentages, respectively. I have accomplished the feat several times, only to see my leanness slip away.

I slimmed down in preparation for my First Descents rock-climbing trip next week in Estes Park, Colorado, as my fundraising challenge. My goal was to reach about 7% body fat. Here are some observations from my nine-week challenge:

  1. I’m getting too old for this shit.
  2. I have an addictive personality.
  3. I love food.
  4. I must rededicate myself to exercise, as evident by a drop in my average beats-per-minute. Maybe I’ll just blame watching Homeland and Breaking Bad, which are too engrossing and cause me to stop cycling on my spin bike.
  5. Ain’t nobody got time to work out for two hours a day.
  6. I now need almond butter before bed so I can sleep (see #1 above).
  7. I now require weekly mini-cheats (see #1 above), which may be beneficial by spiking glucose and metabolism, but once I flip that food switch, I struggle keeping the cheats mini (see #2 above).

My dieting cycle seems to be six months off, two months on. Maintenance requires a severe and permanent lifestyle change which I have generally implemented during all my off-diet cycles, but each time I developed different loopholes, and each time I regained at least one pound per month.

I am hopeful I have turned a corner and can extend my off-diet to eight or 10 months. I now accept a consistent and small caloric deficit, while only occasionally eliminating the chains of restriction. Over the past two weeks I have felt more at peace with watching others eat heaven while I just barely participate.

Crafting a physique is a science: to gain muscle mass you need to eat more than you burn, but in order to maintain minimal body fat that extra amount must be precise. The protein/fat/carbohydrate ratio must also be precise. Ain’t nobody got time for that precision, so (at the moment) I accept the following order of priorities:
  1. Leanness
  2. Food
  3. Coke Zero
  4. La-Z-Boy couches
  5. Muscle bulk

My priorities are reinforced each time a gay man hits on me. Seriously ladies, do you not see where I live?

Lower abdominal veins, the hardest to visibly achieve = fitness challenge accomplished
Benjamin Rubenstein demonstrates seven percent body fat

Leia Mais…

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Problems of the World’s Greatest Freerider

“It has an elevator,” Aunt FloJo had said in April, referring to her friend’s condo in Dupont Circle, my next housesitting residence.

“That’s good,” I said.

“No, I mean it has its own, dedicated elevator. You’re going to be very comfortable this summer.”

My Mansion Hopping continues—last week I moved into one of the most expensive condominium communities in Washington, D.C. Many people don’t understand the concept of housesitting, and if I haven’t lived it then I would be confused, too. “Who goes away for months at a time and lets you live in their home for free? How do you get these opportunities?” they ask.

“It’s because I’m Jewish,” I say, though the real reason is that my Aunt FloJo and Uncle Joker are gracious as all hell, have gracious friends, and create opportunities for me. They landed me the mother of Mansion Hops this time:

  • Pool
  • 4.5 floors
  • 24-hour security and fire-lit courtyard
  • Viking oven and Sub-Zero refrigerator
  • Creepy carousel horse (see video below); and
  • A location where one female friend said, “If we met at a bar, all you’d have to say is ‘I live in Kalorama’ and I’d go back with you.”

Hence, my first problem: I’m barely around this summer due to several trips. I’ll just have to go out to bars and restaurants more while I’m here, dropping the “Kalorama” line everywhere. I’d love and usually prefer company, so if you want to then come hang out at the Mansion and surrounding establishments! However, I am prepared to explore as if this were a solo vacation, which goes outside my comfort zone and is a challenge I embrace.

If only I didn’t have a second problem: I seem to be far more desired by gay men than straight women. And did I mention I was in the epicenter of D.C.’s gay community? In fact, I am the King of Dupont Circle:

Leia Mais…

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Damn You NoCommonSense!

Two of the four times I’ve walked into a women’s restroom had something to do with NoCommonSense, this time while in Hawaii for his wedding. Damn you NoCommonSense for infecting me with your personality trait me for having always shared that personality trait with him.

fire knife dancers at Waikiki Starlight Luau at the Hilton Hawaiian VillageI walked over to the buffet at the Waikiki Starlight Luau at the Hilton Hawaiian Village for a second helping, and saw that it was already closed. Blazed that my ability to carb-overload was stolen and not from the fire knife dancers, I detoured to the restroom. Down the long hall, I scanned the wall for the men’s restroom symbol at a two-sided entrance. I entered on the left.

There were no urinals, which I figured were on the right side of this apparently very large men’s restroom. The water conservationist in me was smothered by rage thanks to NoCommonSense Hilton workers cleaning up the buffet early in order to get off work sooner, so I entered a stall. There was one other man pooping in a different stall.

While washing up, a mother and her young daughter entered the restroom. Some people just have no common sense, or are too young to read signs, I thought. They quickly exited upon seeing me.

I finished rinsing and grabbed a paper towel as the mother and daughter re-entered the men’s restroom and kept walking. I stared at them in the mirror, shocked by their gall, and then it hit me: NoCommonSense has done it again I actually just peed in the women’s restroom. I passed two more women as I hightailed it out.

There is one activity left for me to do in there, which I’ll accomplish when I’m around NoCommonSense again someone offers a grande blonde roast with sugar-free mocha to do it.

Leia Mais…