http://blogcritics.org/ A sinister cabal of superior bloggers on music, books, film, popular culture, politics, and technology - updated continuously. en Copyright 2005-2007 by the authors Mon, 13 Feb 2006 00:27:42 EST http://backend.userland.com/rss Blogcritics.org custom software http://blogcritics.org/ Phillip WinnSunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding. Administration0@blogcritics.org Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2006/02/13/002742.php Andrew EmblerI'm worried about this entry. Why? Well, because it's generally not a good idea for a writer to irritate or alienate a large portion of his or her audience. Yet, I'm fairly certain that this entry is going to do that. Read on, but please - hear me out.This entry concerns success; more specifically, it concerns the massive, superlative success that I've had with weight loss. (Are you irritated or alienated yet?) While I'm joking right now, I'm also being somewhat serious: I'm quite proud of how far I've come. But, as with anything, there are problems with success. "Oh great," I can hear you muttering. "This is where he gripes about how burdensome weight loss is, like some famous actor complaining about fame, or a professional athlete groaning about the pressure of playing sports for a living. What a crock." No, I'm not going to go that far. I wouldn't give up my weight loss for anything in the world, and it's been an incredibly positive experience. However, it would be fair to say that it has caused me some problems that I never anticipated.By far, the most grievous of these problems is an intense, nagging, gnawing, clawing, scraping, and grating fear of failure. In fact, this fear is so great that I'm going to shove it down a little while longer and talk about something else, instead. Lucky you!Instead, I'm going to reveal the second-most prominent of the unexpected, negative consequences of weight loss: backhanded compliments and their cousin, "helpful advice." What do I mean by backhanded compliments? These are compliments, offered to me regarding my weight loss, that are a bit more negative than they might at first appear. These comments always come from those who I have not seen in quite some time, at which time he or she will inevitably comment upon my weight. While it's hard for me to be upset about this - obviously, I'm happy to be noticed as healthier and more energetic - most of these compliments are phrased in such a way that they call into question my self-worth, as it was just as little as a year and a half ago. By far, the most popular of these, usually exclaimed by abrasive, somewhat tactless middle-aged women, is: "You're a shadow of your former self!"Now, I'm probably just being sensitive, but when I hear this, I feel the need to fill in the rest of this statement: "You're a shadow of your former self - which was a bloated, unsightly, terrifying gastric atrocity!" Heh. Great.Interestingly enough, these kinds of tactless remarks come mostly from older people. When my peers hear of my weight loss, they're typically supportive and interested, but never thoughtless. That seems to come mostly from older folks. Take, for example, my wife's grandfather. He's a typical grandfather: a jovial, friendly man who has a bit of an anxiety problem and is more than a little meddlesome. There is never a doubt in my mind that his heart is in the right place, and yet our relationship has always consisted of me wondering exactly what's coming next, even from the very beginning. Like most older people - especially family members - Amy's grandfather's quirks regarding my weight loss manifest themselves as "helpful advice." This helpful advice is typically anything but. Case in point: in March of 2005, we threw Amy's grandparents an anniversary party. In retrospect, I can recognize this situation as the perfect breeding ground for backhanded compliments and "helpful advice": there was plenty of food, lots of family, a bit of mingling, and a few too many beers. As I felt free to do so - this being a party, after all - I began enjoying some of the very delicious food that people had prepared. Almost immediately, I heard an aged, helpful voice from over my shoulder: "Now, be careful with that, Andy." As soon as he said it, he walked away.What?Amy was mortified, and I was simultaneously amused, flustered and irritated. But, I wasn't ashamed (just yet), and so I didn't pay it any mind. Unfortunately, throughout the afternoon as the beer flowed, the proximity between Amy's grandfather and I widened even while the comments continued. By the time we were cutting the cake, I heard the words, "Now, Andy!" practically shouted from the other room. Disgusted, I walked into the kitchen and tossed the cake in the trash.Reading this again, I hope that it doesn't sound too harsh. I want to make it clear that I'm grateful for positive attention. Christ, look at me! I'm blogging about it; obviously, I'm interested in the attention. The vast majority of people I talk to about this are kind, thoughtful and supportive. Even the people I've mentioned have their hearts in the right place. But all of this doesn't change the fact that people occasionally act like jackasses. That's why I'm warning you: even if you achieve all your goals and you feel genuinely happier, nothing is ever perfect. Be ready to accept that. Weight loss and fitness can fix a lot of things, improve confidence, and even - heh, scratch that, I'd better not divulge that secret until later on. The point is, weight loss is great, but it's not a cure for everything. You still need to remember to be mindful, (somewhat) humble, and thankful for the positive people around you. Oh, and the most important lesson? Don't let anybody badger you into throwing cake away. Because that shit is tasty. And life's too short. Tastes43542@blogcritics.org Mon, 13 Feb 2006 00:27:42 EST http://blogcritics.org/archives/2006/01/30/114302.php Andrew EmblerI've struggled with this entry. Why, you ask? Was it because the title is remarkably insensitive to those who don't have enough to eat? Well, yes, a little - I can't help that I'm a bleeding-heart liberal, in whom higher education has instilled a constant awareness of "the other," and with it an unrelenting sense of empathy. But, to be truthful, this was not my primary concern, regardless of how terrible that sounds. No, I was more worried about just how psychotic the title of this entry was going to make me sound. I've already touched on the obsessive tendencies that I believe need to be cultivated, in some degree, in order to achieve significant, life-changing weight loss. But, these tendencies have done more than just propel me to the gym five times a week, rain or shine. They've forced me to fall in love with the effects of my own hunger. I'm not kidding.I'm mortified that I'm about to describe these tendencies in detail, but I guess that's what this weblog is for: I derive a sick and twisted pleasure from 1) feeling ravenously, uncomfortably hungry, and 2) listening to my stomach growl angrily, as I push it to this point of discomfort. It was worst in the winter of 2005. This was when I encountered my most rapid weight loss, immediately following my "Strip Poker" revelation; I was exercising fiendishly, and making sure to count my calories judiciously, and I was hungry as hell while I did it. This is probably why I grew to enjoy these feelings. If I hadn't, I would have killed myself, or (more likely) my boss. Here's an exercise: eat a piece of 40-calorie, low-carbohydrate toast. (Note: this toast tastes like cardboard, if cardboard were blander). Oh! I almost forgot: you can jazz up the low-calorie toast with a spoonful of low-calorie strawberry jam. Then, go to the gym, and run for forty-five minutes. If you're 240 pounds (my weight at the time), you'll probably burn around 750 to 800 calories. Finally, go to work, and refrain from eating anything until noon. Do this for a couple of days, and you will come close to losing your mind. Eventually, something like the following conversation will occur:My Boss: (Appears at the doorway to my office) Hey Andy? Me: (At my desk, seething, while looking at the clock, which has been frozen at 10:05 AM for what feels like several hours) What? My Boss: Yeah, this calendar you added to the website... (trails off) Me: Yeah!? My Boss: Well, it doesn't work. The colors are off. It's missing the Sunday column. And it says January has thirty-two days. Me: FUCK YOU! WHERE IS MY GODDAMN BAGEL!?Okay, I may have exaggerated that conversation for the sake of humor, but if you work with children, the elderly or the otherwise infirm you will definitely want to monitor yourself while you modify your diet in this fashion. And, you know what the really awful thing is? I don't want to discourage you, but it really won't ever get any easier, unfortunately. Yeah, you'll get used to it, of course, and as you come to enjoy the pain, and the strange squeaks and zips and urps and squawks that emanate with increasing volume from your lower mid-section, you will enter what I can only assume is a zen-like state. But you'll still have to be ever mindful of maintaining that state. And you'll have to almost enjoy it, or you'll rip the head off a small dog.Be warned, though. Even though I have mostly achieved my goals, I have a hard time letting go of this behavior. There are times when I find myself laying on the couch, watching a movie or just resting peacefully, and my hand will gravitate to my stomach, without thought or premeditation, so that I can feel the rumbles of my insides desperately consuming themselves, while my stomach sounds like the hull of a nuclear submarine. And I'll think to myself, "You know, you really shouldn't engage in this behavior. It's mentally and physically unhealthy. Furthermore, if you ever tell anyone about it, you're going to sound like a complete lunatic." My brain makes good points, but how does my body respond? "FUCK YOU! I NEED PASTRIES!"Old habits die hard. Tastes42931@blogcritics.org Mon, 30 Jan 2006 11:43:02 EST http://blogcritics.org/archives/2006/01/23/120133.php Andrew EmblerAs you will come to realize, when it comes to weight loss, I am a firm believe in the cutting of caloric intake: it doesn’t matter whether you eat 1,600 calories of sugar cookies, bacon strips, frozen pizzas or energy bars; if you can do this while working out like a lunatic, you will lose weight. You have to be honest with yourself, though: if you eat a handful of nuts, you need to tally it it, otherwise the whole exercise is pointless.There is one area, however, in which I am lax, and regarding which I felt little need to modify my behavior: drinking. I enjoy drinking. I enjoy a nice glass of beer – after all, I live in Portland, so it would be a travesty if I didn’t. I like a good martini – gin, only, of course; please don’t insult me by offering me anything else (I’ll leave the brand to your discretion.) I find drinking quite beneficial in social situations: it aids in the mingling process; it can convert two left feet into an adequate pair; it helps dampen the noise of a particularly loud concert or party; and it can even turn the most timid of us into a Streisand or Stewart at the local karaoke bar (whether this is a good thing is a subject for another discussion.) I will even go so far as to say that I occasionally enjoy getting – hmm, how do I put this – shitfaced, when it strikes my fancy, I have nothing to do the next day, and I’m out with a group of friends.Now, there are some amongst you who are probably shaking your heads, whispering, “I think he has a problem.” I do have a problem: the fact that I’m writing this without a cup of coffee next to me is a problem. That I have a splitting headache, brought about by this very activity, is a problem. But moreover, my biggest problem – aside from the minor but irreparable damage such an activity causes my liver – is this: how can my enjoyment of alcohol coexist with both my generally obsessive approach to weight loss, and my specific stance against calories? Alcohol, and most alcoholic beverages, are not exactly light in the calorie department.Simple. I have created a wholly unscientific, somewhat arbitrary system that has obviously served me well.1. If you enjoy going out and getting loaded on weekends, then you must refrain from any mid-week, lackadaisical drinking, or otherwise its calories must be stringently counted, like anything else. I used to enjoy a beer every couple of days, just as a way to unwind. Now, I try to steer clear of that activity. If you’re going to do it – make it count.2. Stick with beer, basic cocktails, and shots. I used to be a big fan of the White Russian, a delicious drink comprised of vodka, Kahlua, and whole cream. You know what those White Russians did? They built their capital city on my ass and named it Fatingrad. Those things give out merciless headaches, anyway; instead, hang out with Tanqueray and grapefruit all night, and you won’t feel like death the next day. Plus, its a great way to cute a cold!3. Avoid a late night restaurant run. I used to be a fairly staunch supporter of the late night restaurant run, whether it was fast food, or one of those 24-hour pseudo-diners like Denny’s or Shari’s. Note: I’m not explicitly banning the consumption of food while on the bender itself, but when you leave wherever you are to go someplace explicitly for food, then you may have a problem. A few 3 AM Grand Slam breakfasts and pretty soon you’ll find they’ve turned your gut into a baseball stadium named Jiggly Field.4. On the day after, you must exercise. Sorry, this is non-negotiable. When you drink to excess, what you’re doing is mortgaging the present: the next day, you have to pay. Additionally, it helps combat that hangover: there have been occasions where I’m fairly positive my sweat carries a proof of no less than fifty.5. Have fun with it. That’s why you’re adhering to the rest of these rules, so that you can relax when you’re out, and you don’t have to meticulously count your calories. That’s right, I said it: if you follow these rules, you can enjoy your excessive drinking without obsessing over the exact number of beers you’ve had. Although, keep in mind that your slim, finely chiseled body really won’t look as impressive if it's curled up on the bathroom floor, or passed out on the toilet, so a bit of moderation might not be completely out of the question.I’m not saying its a perfect system, and you know what? You’ll probably have even better results more quickly if you cut out drinking entirely. But that’s not the point of this post. My point is that it’s not required. If you make some adjustments, you can have your booze, and drink it too. Tastes42645@blogcritics.org Mon, 23 Jan 2006 12:01:33 EST http://blogcritics.org/archives/2006/01/18/090100.php Andrew EmblerNote: The following post is neither parody nor satire, in a strict sense, but nevertheless it should be taken as tongue-in-cheek, and certainly not as advocacy for any unhealthy activities.Before I get started, I need to explain something: the title to this post comes from the television show Arrested Development, which everyone should be watching, but - sadly - few people are.The particular affliction to which I'm alluding is, of course, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, which should not be taken lightly. Of course, what am I about to do? I'm about to take that shit most lightly. Not really - actually, I have great respect for OCD, from which I believe I suffer (albeit a fairly mild case.) Why do I have great respect for it? Because, without it, I'm not sure I would be here, weighing what I weigh and posting about it on the internet. My particularly helpful version of OCD manifests itself when I am convinced I need to do something, in order to reach a goal that I have deemed important, I will perform this activity with great resilience and without fail. Nowhere is this more evident than in my experience with the gym. For years, I was dead set against the gym: "Why do I need a gym membership?" I scoffed at my wife, Amy. "I walk four times a week, rain or shine. Look at my shoes!" At which point I would produce muddy, disheveled pair of New Balance running shoes.To her credit, my wife is as stubborn as I am obsessive, and several days after this particular conversation, in the fall of 2003, I found myself taking a tour of Bally Total Fitness, which I later joined (that day). And, upon joining, I saw the light, and the OC (I really shouldn't call it that) stuck its boot up my ass, and I found myself at the gym no fewer than five times a week. I began to plan my days around going to the gym, and if I didn't get to go, I would become sullen, then angry. No, this isn't particularly healthy or well-adjusted behavior, but it's been effective.This tendency I'm describing extends beyond the gym, as well. When I hit a set point, it was a modification in diet that made all the difference, and a little bit of obsession that made it happen. See, when you work out five times a week, you begin to build up a rather aggressive metabolism. Then, when you resolve to consume no more than 1,500 to 1,600 calories daily (not including alcohol, on the weekends), your stomach is going to start making furious sounds, and you're going to get uncomfortable. And when you're uncomfortable, you're going to need something pushing you forward, in spite of the discomfort. For some, this is God, for others, family; for me, it was a constant, unrelenting pressure to just do it (sorry, NIKE), and do it right. Okay, that last bit was over the top, and tongue-in-cheek, but I think my point stands: if you're going to change your life, you're going to need to change your mindset toward a lot of things. To put it succinctly: to get physically healthy, you might just have to get a little mentally unhealthy. Tastes42443@blogcritics.org Wed, 18 Jan 2006 09:01:00 EST http://blogcritics.org/archives/2006/01/16/202419.php Andrew EmblerIn the autumn of 2004, I weighed 240 pounds. Not a very provocative way to begin, I know, but trust me - it gets better. Now, I know what you're thinking: "5'10"? 240? Wow, he has a weight problem." (Of course, you'd probably only be thinking that particular thought if you knew how tall I was, but I digress.) You would be correct in your reaction, however, but I didn't have nearly as negative a response to my situation. Why? Because - at one point - I was 340 pounds.(And I was a bit shorter then, too.)So, as you might imagine, most of the time I was generally thrilled to be 240 pounds. Granted, I fluctuated between 235 and 250, but all I had to do was think about how far I had come, with just a bit of exercise.Most of the time, that is. On this particular evening, however, this knowledge was insufficient. On this particular evening, we were playing strip poker. (Incidentally - you're going to learn a lot about me, as you read this article. Probably much more than you'd ever really wanted to know about anyone. Trust me, this is just the tip of the iceberg, and it's generally as painful for me to tell as it is for you to read. Oh, and sorry for the aside - you'll probably grow to hate these, but that's the price you pay for such a non-linear method of storytelling/journalism.)The details of how we decided on such a pastime are unimportant - in fact, to the best of my admittedly hazy recollection, there was only one girl playing, so I'm not sure why we were engaging in the activity in the first place. (I'm not in any way suggesting that me playing a game of strip poker was anything seedier than jovial, stupid fun. I mean, if you think about it, what could be less sexy than sitting around on wooden chairs with a group comprised mostly of guys, sporting beer guts and cans of PBR, in various states of undress? Bah - you could be playing with the cast of Charlie's Angels and it wouldn't be enough to make that scenario titillating.) I apologize again for the digression; there I sat, playing a 2 AM game of strip poker trying desperately not to lose, lest I be required to show to my friends my great detail of mass. Well, if you know anything about gambling, you'll know that usually the more desperate you are correlates inversely with how well you do. Tonight was no exception. It didn't take long before I was faced with a choice: do I remove my shirt, or my pants? It's funny, too; for a heavy guy like myself to even consider strip poker, I would have had to be in some sort of heavily inebriated state. Yet, I could have had a thousand gin and tonics and still been yanked back to clarity when faced with such a decision. Perhaps I should spell out the ramifications of this choice: do I pull off my shirt, and expose my gut, which was more like an innertube than a spare tire? Or do I remove the pants, and chill in the briefs I wore because boxers were so goddamn uncomfortable and awkward? I actually chose a third option. I slinked off, quitting the game and finding somewhere to lay my head - which actually turned out to be my bed, since this entire ludicrous adventure took place at our home. No one seemed to mind that I was quitting without honoring my final bet; perhaps they knew that I was ashamed or uncomfortable (although I imagine it's probably more likely that I just wasn't the object of everyone's attention - which was fine by me.)Next morning, most of the remnants of the previous night's activities were expunged: floors were swept, cards put away, glasses (and, perhaps, vomit) were cleaned. But the game of strip poker weighed heavily on my mind, and by the end of the day I had come to a fundamental realization: although at that time I had probably lost around 100 pounds since my heaviest point in high school, it wasn't enough. I still wasn't happy with myself. I exercised frequently, but had stalled on my progress. I needed to do something. I'm going to show you what I did.In the coming weeks and months, if you'd like, you'll learn what it's like to weigh 340 pounds when you're 16, 260 when you're 20, 295 when you're 23, 240 when you're 25, and, as of December 27th, 2005, 177 when you're 26. I've done it without drastically altering my diet, or getting stomach stapling surgery - although, if you have a fear of exercise you should probably stop reading right now. It isn't easy, but it can be done. Let's talk about how. Tastes42360@blogcritics.org Mon, 16 Jan 2006 20:24:19 EST