So after a few more serious posts lately, I decided to have a bit of fun with today’s post. All of us who have been chasing the dream of weight loss for years have tried many, MANY different methods. We’ve dumped hundreds if not thousands of dollars into supplements, exercise gear, and specialized clothing to help us lose weight without actually doing a damn thing.
Just put three of these on your chest, four on your back, one on each ass cheek, two on the bottom of your left foot, and switch it on to lose weight effortlessly! (Side effects may include seizures, uncontrollable urination, and igniting hair.)
Here’s the deal: if you know anyone who has transformed themselves from a jiggling mass of poor decisions into the latest Bowflex spokesmodel with a device they bought from a late-night infomercial, there are two possibilities. Either they’re lying to you, or they are a cyborg alien hybrid here to steal our water and transform New Jersey into a killing arena for their entertainment. (We might not notice the change to New Jersey.)
But recently, an odd change has begun taking place. When I see an infomercial for a fitness plan, they’re no longer featuring the friendly, welcoming face of Suzanne Sommers inviting me to work out for eighteen seconds a week and get six-pack abs. Instead, the new plans have names like Insanity, P90X, or 12 Weeks In A Siberian Gulag. The spokesperson is not smiling. He’s screaming abuse at you, questioning your manhood, and dismissing your ability to complete the first two minutes of his program. Instead of a few quick sessions every few days, it demands two hours a day of agony and misery.
The commercials for these programs scare the hell out of me, and I completed an ACTUAL boot camp. I’m fairly certain that P90X has perfected technology that will allow that behemoth that leads the exercises to crawl out of my TV like the crazy girl from The Ring and punch me so hard the fat will fly off my body and kill a passing hot dog vendor. I don’t doubt that the program works. I doubt my ability to survive the damn thing.
This is a sneak preview of the next ad campaign for P90X.
I think this trend is a good one. We’re moving away from the quick fixes and the gimmicks. We may still have things like the ShakeWeight (if you don’t know what this is, click here and thank me later). But those are fading away from workout plans that don’t claim to be easy, that actually put the truth front and center. If you want to get the kind of muscles and definition we all get depressed that we don’t have, you have to put in the work, work that isn’t easy and will make you beg for the sweet release of death at times. For those who think I’m exaggerating, you’ve clearly never tried a kettlebell routine.
It’s worth noting that if you’re doing the first phase of TSFL as I am, doing a program as brutally intensive as the ones I’ve discussed here is not only inadvisable, but slightly suicidal. However, once I hit my target weight, I do plan on taking a swing at a few of the more intensive workout routines out there. Having higher muscle mass has been shown to help maintain a healthy weight, and I really, REALLY don’t want to see that needle cruise in the wrong direction on my scale. If you have some suggestions for plans you’d like to see me try, let me know. I’ll post my progress, failures, and moments gasping for sweet, sweet oxygen on the floor on this blog. And yes, strip aerobics has already been suggested. My readers are smartasses. Currently, the two leading contenders are You Are Your Own Gym and a kettlebell routine, both because they’re easy to do whenever and wherever I am.
Ultimately, that’s part of where I would like this blog to go. I don’t intend to hit my target weight and post, “Done! Peace Out, Hombres!” I will continue to ramble on and on about my efforts to get in better health, including the inevitable post entitled “How I Destroyed My TV With Sweaty Hands And A Ten Pound Kettlebell.”
Fat Nerd to Slim Nerd 