9 Pounds O' Poo

Bret Says: I honestly thought dieting would be easy, but I knew I was screwed on day one when I woke up upset.  I mean, plenty of time I don't even eat breakfast and it has no affect on me at all, however last Thursday I woke up hungry and pissed off that I had to be healthy.  That sucked...

I will tell you that I woke up 285, and as of Monday when I could last weigh myself I was 276.  This is probably a testament to the continuing saga of my scale most likely being broken, but honestly I had a pretty healthy week.  In fact, the worst part was Halloween night.  Not because of there being candy all around me but because after eating vegetarian chili and walnuts I thought I was having a heart attack.  Seriously.  My chest hurt, my left arm was pounding, I couldn't breath, and I basically just laid in bed in agony for hours on end.  I knew I wouldn't die, I'm too young to actually die of a heart attack, however one thought kept going through my head.  "I haven't eaten meat today."

I promise you if the last day of my life is to be worth anything, I will have eaten meat at some point.  Meat is awesome.  

I haven't had any major urges, but I haven't been great either.  I took a trip to my grandparents house, people who are so cheap they never ever buy healthy food.  They basically only serve fried hunks of those abused animals in that Sarah McGlaughlin commercial that plays all of the time.

Still, on the way down I stopped at Wendy's.  Yes, I had a cheeseburger, but NO FRIES.

I was pretty good at my grandparents also, until Wednesday.  I had a huge breakfast, but it was all from guilt.  My Grandparents are mocked for their cheapness all of the time, and as a result they are hurt if you don't eat their often expired food.  So I had a double helping of my Grandpa's sausage, and I had a few biscuits with jelly on them because he kept insisting.

Yes Bear, out of guilt I kept shoving my Grandpa's sausage in my mouth, and I swallowed down his jelly.  At least mine wasn't for pleasure.

Also for dinner we had lasagna.  I love lasagna.  I am like Garfield in that way, only less active.  Still, I wanted to limit myself to one serving of lasagna and one piece of garlic bread.  And I am proud to say I succeeded wildly.  I was very proud of myself for my restraint, and it really showed me that I can beat this thing after all.  Thus, with this happy news I decided to reward myself.

With another helping of lasagna and another piece of garlic bread.

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TBM Says: So let me get this straight...your reward for not being a total fat ass and gorging yourself on lasagna was to go ahead and gorge yourself on lasagna?  Man...I wish I was as misguided as you.

I mean seriously...the next thing you're going to tell us is that you ate a pack of cookies and because, you're fucking awesome, and didn't eat a second pack of cookies, that you instead ate a whole damn case.

Bravo Bret...bravo.

Lorraine Says: Bret has already said some pretty mean things on this blog. I mean, he talked bad about my thighs. If you know nothing else, please know that Bret is a mean bastard because he talked about my thighs.

 
And that was probably the worst thing he's said... up until this point. He just blamed his fat-assness on HIS GRANDPARENTS. 
 
Now, I know nothing about his g-parents, but I do know the town they live in, which might as well be called "Retirement Town for the Infirm and Innocent Elderly Who Love Their Graindkids, Florida." Bret can't control his eating and he blames his grandparents who are feeding him out of the kindness of their hearts (because if I were as cheap as Bret claims they are, and I had a super-sized grandkid, I wouldn't even open the door.)
 
Also, Bret lost weight, but I'm choosing not to even recognize it. Why? HE PACKED ON WEIGHT BEFORE THIS ALL STARTED. Do you remember him saying that? He purposefully gained 16 pounds before starting the diet. I'm not acknowledging your weightloss BRET until you're back to pre-I-ate-McDonalds-four-times-a-day-for-a-week-weight. Got that?
 
It's like if I gain a pound every weekend and lose it every week and come back and tell you about all these single pounds I'm losing. We'll be here FOREVER. Well, some of us will. Lily will be dead. 
 
Don't even get me started on "your grandpa's sausage." Sick. 

 Witless Says: You know, I really thought I'd pull out the stops today, seeing as how I know Bret's a big boy and can take the heat.

But then when I saw how sad and pathetic his week was, I thought I'd spare him.  I mean really, while Lil was out getting drunk, Lor was debating the merits of Zebra cakes with Rox, and TBM and I were guzzling sausage:

Bret was by himself having a heart attack.  

Guys, we came this close to actually knowing someone who died in their apartment and wasn't discovered until weeks later.

Bret Says: Alright Bear, let's get this straight.  I ate two helpings of lasagna.  2.  Not 15.  This is a substantial improvement for me O.K.?

Lor: The weight counts, but I completely acknowledge why it is that I lost it.  It's not because I was healthy.  It's because natural processes occurred and I was frequently in the bathroom and dropping off 3 pounds of chicken fingers at a time.  Still, I wasn't replacing it with 4 pounds, so I'm proud.

Witless: I guarantee you I would be found way before that.  The smell that a produce while alive has been known to kill cows on contact.  If I were dead it would cause all of central Florida to become some sort of Chernobyl.

Lily:  WHERE ARE YOU YOU DUMB WHORE?  I assume you are lying on the pavement bloated and drooling somewhere stinking of tequila with ding dongs sticking out of your mouth.

AND I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT THE HOSTESS PRODUCT!

WE HAVE ONLY JUST BEGUN....