The Weight Watcher at the Road House

“Calling me sir is like putting an elevator in an outhouse. It don’t belong.” ~Emmet

Every time I drive through the countryside, I immediately catch an ear worm repeating “Sh-Boom, Sh-Boom” and conjure the image of Brad Wesley  happily swerving back and forth across both lanes. Welcome to Road House where at the Double Deuce “we’ve got entirely too many troublemakers here. Too many 40-year-old adolescents, felons, power drinkers and trustees of modern chemistry.”  Possibly the best bad movie of all time. 

I found myself traveling on this road for all the wrong reasons. My father took his snow bird form and began his migration. His journey cut short by a heart attack in Northern Virginia. (He’s OK now). My brother and I flew in to talk to the doctors and drive him back home. Sometimes life takes unexpected turns. “A polar bear fell on me.” 

I’ll spare you the details of hospital bureaucracy but let’s just say we were “nice until it was time to not be nice.”  He was finally released and we began our journey. 10 hours across, 7 states…No time for for fun. “You’re too stupid to have a good time.”  Actually I’m not but the situation called for a simple drive although it was killing me to go through DC and NYC without stopping .

The drive was uneventful enough. We postponed the lectures about leaving without telling anyone, driving cross country alone, the McDonald’s bags in the passenger seat, and even the steak he was paying for when he passed out. Those would come when we got home and he would learn “It’s my way, or the highway.” …staying with us for the week and coordinating all the follow ups. Driving to work this morning I would give myself the same speech where another Road House moment popped into my head

Tilghman: It’s a good night. Nobody died.

Dalton: It’ll get worse before it gets better.

I hate to be so gruff but sometimes reality sets in. I’m on that same path. From where I stand I would be lucky to end up a 75 year old man with type 2 diabetes, more stents in his heart than you can count and mild heart attack leaving no long term damage. I need to look less like Tinker and more like Dalton. (at least in body shape)

Dalton says that “Nobody ever wins a fight.” but in this journey I have to just keep fighting anyway. The road is long and sometimes painful but as our hero would say “Pain don’t hurt.”

At least we can have a few drinks and listen to some good music along the way. Cue the a band….“You’re paid to play so play”

The Weight Watcher and Fatboy Slim

The Weight Watcher has returned inspired by Fat Boy Slim. Not the English DJ you might be thinking of in fact I had to look up what song he was even famous for as I planned to write this blog. The Fat Boy Slim I speak of is nickname of an annual weight loss contest at my office. (12 weeks Biggest Loser style). I was surprised to find out that Norman Cook (aka Fat Boy Slim was the bassist for the Housemartins who made one of my favorite albums of all time. (but I digress)

So here I am stepping back on the path drawing inspiration from 23 other participants joking, harassing and trying to take my money. It has worked before. The one time I reached goal started with a similar contest. The majority of the group fizzled quick with a few losing the 10-20 pounds they gained through the holidays. I manged to leverage my momentum into an eventual 130+ pound loss. Here I stand just 18 pounds lighter than when I started that journey.

So from FatBoy Slim..

“Why try harder”…. to win

“I have to praise you”… to my friend who kicked off this contest because I needed some spark.

“Right here, right now”….says it all

The journey is long and treacherous but must begin with a single step  and thanks to some friends and a little fun competition hopefully I have taken that first step….AGAIN.