In any case, some of the gang wanted to amp up their lifestyle and become fit, possibly because, just like me, they were sick of their wife constantly making jokes including “I ate a baby” references. I happened to be in the room at the time they were having this conversation and due to their excitement and probably being drunk, I got all swept up in the moment and made agreements which, on reflection, I should have instead responded with, “Fuck off, you stupid bastards. I want no part in this”. Promises were made and dates were set. So now, a few days in, I have a sore back because it isn’t used to doing any of this shit and I’ve just had a salad for lunch. I tried pretending it was KFC, because I can see KFC through my work window, but it felt like I was chewing plastic so I guess lunchtime is just dead to me now.
The main sweetener in all this is the goal. Each week we weigh-in and the person with the highest percentage loss for the week gets treated to a schnitzel at the pub. With whatever topping they want. This may sound counter intuitive but I don’t want to hear your fucking arguments – the schnitzels are that good. The losers for the week are allowed to eat as well, although I preferred the option where they had to watch the winner finish the entire plate as a form of encouragement.
I’ll try and keep up the status and weekly results but with
a current workload and just feeling hungry all the time there is very little
motivation or energy to do anything more than crawl into bed each night,
sobbing quietly and dreaming of eating a little burger inside a bigger burger
inside a much bigger burger – tarducken style dining, but inside two buns.
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This is like porn for me. Until I
look up other porn. Obviously.
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