Let's Talk About Fat, Bay-Beeby Man from U.N.C.L.E. (guest blogger)

Friends and family will tell you that I will never be confused with a health nut. I enjoy being a peasant in His Royal Highness' Burger Kingdom far too much for that. And The King has such delicious breakfastststs that I'll always be a faithful follower.

See, the drive-thru experience has made life just too easy for lazy asses like myself, who want that extra twenty minutes of sleep we can get by not making our own breakfasts in the morning. It's simple to spend five minutes (on a good day, when Marianne or Romero haven't been doing bong hits the night before) pulling up and sailing away from the window with artery clogging materials to eat on the way to work. Yeah, the old Chevy Cavalier may get a little messy - (actual digital photo of my car *) but it will save me from scrubbing 8 hour dried and caked on oatmeal when I get home, in addition to the dinner dishes I have to do.

The truth of the matter is I don't mind cooking dinners. I am fairly adept at an astounding 6 recipes (no joke), and neighborhood stray dogs (or other critters) only turn their noses up four times a week while scavenging through my garbage. I like the kitchen time after work - I just hate it before work. In addition, I'm cooking dinner for my little brother and me so there's the satisfaction of doing something for someone else, while the breakfast thing would just be for me, so what's the point?

But about two months ago I stepped on what would soon become my arch-enemy. I'm about 6 feet tall and was an athlete in high school, playing on my school's football team. I have been in pretty good shape throughout my life in spite of my BS diet. (Those initials are not Periodic Table abbreviations, by the way.) A little research indicates that a dude my height's "Ideal Weight" should be 175 lbs. which is around where I've been the past ten years, most often, though, I'd been weighing 172. Well, my arch-enemy gleefully told me in quite harsh and ridiculing fashion, "You're crushing me with your 189 pound lard-ass girth, fat boy!!!" And I was scared.

So I asked my little brother to step on my arch-enemy, because obviously that SOM' Bitch was lying or at least malfunctioning. Now my little brother is about 5' 5" tall and still growing, but more interested in video games, limiting his physical activity to showing off on his bicycle so he can break his arm (which is a story for another time). So my little bro settles in a top Captain Crabby Pants and is immediatedly shouted down in an unrivaled demeaning tone, "Get Off! Get Off! Two-tons of Buns!" A closer check showed my not so little bro registering in at 217 pounds, and that made me even more scared.

How'd we get so fat? (That's rhetorical)

So I started to get into an exercise routine on my own after work and was putting in about 3 miles a day, 5 days a week. My little bro has been doing Hapkaido for 3 years, 3 days a week for an hour and a half each time, and while it has taught him valuable philosophy about self conduct, it obviously hasn't kept his weight down. We signed up to do a 5K walk because my little brother didn't think he could run it, and he was right. It was a struggle for him to keep up a 20 min/mi pace.

So what can we do outside of going on The Biggest Loser(s) to get this expanding waistline issue under control? I know Nonny Nu has a coach and hiking buddies. But judging from your Blog Photo, you seem to be in tip-top hippity-hop shape as you're hopping down the bunny trail. It's time for an intervention.