Every time you look at TV, newspapers or any other media today you see ads filled with dietologists talking to you about how to turn yourself from a fatty into some guy with abs you could use as a xylophone or in the case of ladies into someone who has clearly just had all the fat from the lipo dumped into the boobs and lips. All these nutritioneers talk about miracle formulations that turn your fat into cash or exercise secrets that not only burn calories but also brings burning desire into those of the opposite sex.
By drinking deep of their custom branded protein shake which they have somehow configured to make it taste completely awful (I suppose to prevent some people from gorging ourselves on protein shake binges) we are supposed to magically transform ourselves. And all for the low, low cost of only $50 a week to learn these secrets. And then another $50 for the supplies. And another $50 for the supplements. And another $50 for the rest of the food that the menu calls for. But by the time you get to the last one, you've already said "fuck it, and skipped the fruit and veg at the supermarket and picked up the biggest serve of chocolate you can find and are heading to the deli to see if they have a 1kg serve of the pasta salad there to go with your 2L chocolate milk. Really, it's just like a pyramid scheme run by skinny people to have a laugh at the expense of the desperate, gullible and overweight.
This isn't to say that you'll never have success with it, because some people do. But let me clue you in on the big secret to losing weight. It's six words. Two sentences. I can't be bothered counting the syllables.
Don't eat shit. Do some exercise.
Holy shit. Did I just blow your mind then? Now, as a guy who is admittedly a complete fatty nerd, who am I to tell you this? Well, perhaps there needs to be an addendum.
Have some willpower.
This is where I've traditionally fallen down. I get going and then suddenly I get an overwhelming craving to jam something unhealthy down my throat. Repeatedly. If I was a flippant person I could say something like: "But now that I've acknowledged that failing, I have taken away it's power." But that would be the kind of bullshit that you'd usually have to pay some jack-arse with a degree from some online university $200 an hour to hear. And believe me, a burger talks a hell of a lot louder than that guy. It's almost unfair, like having a debate between Dr Buddy Rydell and Mike Brady in your head. You know that one of them is being completely sensible and reasonable, and to top it all off is probably right. But then the other one throws a bag of golf clubs at your head and screams like a crazy man about how he's jonesing for a pizza. Tell me which one you'd placate.
I'm not going to go down the road of saying: "Oh, it's an addiction." Because that just seems like a cop-out. Instead I'll say that it's a case of GODDAMN are burgers and chocolate and pizza and coconut cream based curries tasty. Because I'll admit that I love to eat. It's just finding ways of making food that you're happy with and works for you. I've been working on a meal plan and though it's certainly no Burn the Fat, Feed the Muscle or some other specialist plan, it is being sensibly constructed with the intent of balancing nutrition with weightloss while maintaining good variety. And even more important, it's economically viable. On first doing calculations for that Venuto at the start of 2009 I came to the conclusion that I'd be eating about 4kg worth of chicken breast every week. To say nothing of the egg whites and other items. Not exactly a sustainable practice, for my wallet or chicken-kind.
Onto other matters. Customer service first. On entering a footwear retailer and encountering a wait time, you shouldn't be surprised. What should surprise you is when none of the staff even acknowledge you or your wait and then go on to serve someone else who came in after you. Thank you Athlete's Foot Camberwell. You truly are a shining example of bad service.
However, on reconsidering my footwear requirements I decided to go back to my Launceston roots and picked up some KT20s (K-Mart Trainers 20 dollars for those who are wondering). Some wonderful no-name brand for $15. Not even 20 bucks anymore! Bargain. If they hold up well I may have to reconsider my long love affair with ASICS. However, if they fall apart after a fortnight, then I think that I'll be back on the ASICS bandwagon. I think I know which one is more likely here.
Second. What the hell is up with getting wrist-locked three times in one training session? It just seems uncalled for. I guess it means that I've either graduated to the next level where wrist-locking is acceptable, or if it was just one of those days. Either way, I'm bringing some koto-gaeshi to the next session now that I know it's on the table.
Third. Rolling with a black belt. I had a chance to roll with Ben for the first time in a long while today and it was eye opening. On the one hand I think that I did OK on some fronts as I got the compliment of "you're a good person to practice sweeps on as you have to get it right to sweep you." On the other hand I also had some face palm moments, like thinking that I'd passed guard and was about to get side control, only to suddenly realise that Ben was no longer there and was in fact on my back with hooks in. Though I don't think I made any massive mistakes, I also completely changed my game when facing him, being very slow and conservative in my movements as to not give him any more kinetic energy and inertia to work with than was possibly necessary. And still he did a hell of a lot with it. I love jits.