Dan Nied’s 100 Days is the chronicle of one man’s quest to improve his health in 100 days. Feel free to email him at email@example.com with any questions or comments you might have.
What I ate today: I’m not gonna run it down, but I have a headache because I had freezer surprise for dinner tonight, trying to get rid of the old packages of chicken and fish that have been up there for about a year. What I ended up eating was two chicken filets (at least a year old), a fat-free hot dog, and some sort of fish. I actually got dizzy. Amazing.
Exercise: None. I blame daylight savings time.
I had a big Saturday night. I gathered all of my out-of-rotation clothes and tried each item on. The point, obviously, was to figure out what fits now and what I’m still too fat for. Good news: I increased my wardrobe by about 200 percent. I found at least six formerly tight button-up shirts that fit just fine now. Also, there are a few old t-shirts that are suddenly much more comfortable. My favorite black polo shirt is back in the rotation as is the polo shirt that my mother sent me for my birthday (in August) that I never got to wear.
So I’m happy about that.
One of the most embarrassing things about being fat (and poor) is the wardrobe. Since it is impossible to be 370 pounds and look good, I went for comfort. Basically, I wore the loosest-fitting things I could find. That, of course, made me look even fatter. As I got bigger and bigger, certain shirts would become smaller and smaller. Slowly my wardrobe shrunk to three dress shirts, one pair of khakis, one pair of jeans and some undershirts. I’ve been recycling those for the past year. I think the jig was up about 11 months ago. That was really embarrassing because not only was I fat, I looked like a slob (which, of course, I was, am, and will always be.) So it is incredibly nice to simply fit into some old stuff again.
However, be warned. My friends will undoubtedly leave postings about how my wardrobe was never very diversified in the first place. I admit I’ve never had any moral dilemmas about re-wearing shirts, pants, and sometimes underwear. But I am hoping that this will all change. I have a feeling that as my waistline shrinks and my income grows (it’s gotta grow eventually, right?) I’ll become more interested in fashion. After all, I’m 26 and single. Time is sort of ticking away. I gotta start looking good so I can get me a lady friend someday.
I had a shot at making a lady friend today. Well, sort of. While I was doing laundry, the one cute girl I’ve seen in my building happened to be down there with me unloading her washer while I was trying to find one for my soiled whites.
So we had a magical moment.
For one second, our eyes almost met, but I managed to keep mine at a 45-degree angle away from hers.
“By any chance,” I said, “Are you done with that washer?”
“Yes,” she said.
She was stoic in her response, but something about it told me she was fluttering inside.
The last thing I said to her was “Thanks.” So yeah, I fucking blew it. You know, I’ve never been shy. My college roommates might still be virgins if I wasn’t always breaking the ice with girls at the bar. During the course of one school year, I got my roommate laid at least three times simply by being the kind of outgoing party guy I am. And maybe alcohol had something to do with my courage in those situations, but those weren’t isolated. Granted, I stumbled a bit sober, but I still managed to talk up any girl I was interested in. So why, now, am I such a pussy?
I chalk it up to being in this town. I am reluctant to start anything with anyone with associations here in Bumfuck, Colorado. Isn’t that some pretty shallow thinking on my part? This girl in the laundry room was certainly close to my age and she seemed like a transplant to this town. She would have been a good person to talk to. Maybe I’ll get that chance again, but in all probability I won’t.
Seize the day, right? That’s the cliché. I had the chance, and now I’ll probably never know what this person is like. And you know, that kinda sucks.