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Show ; i n- ' J As the Ball (Ekxinees Chances of writer baing slim are-slim By G. BRFTT HART "That's it; this time I mean it," I said to myself as I stuffed the last, ceremonial, oversized handful of com chips into my mouth. "Once and for all, I'm going on a diet." 1 know I've said it before, but this time I was really serious. OK, you're right; I've said I was really serious six or seven hundred times in the past, but this time was different. I had to do something. Yes. I had all the symptoms of needing a diet: My clothes were tight and uncomfortable; it was more difficult than usual to get off the couch or into the car. And most disturbing of all, our family food bill seemed to have doubled over the last couple of months. Of course, there were some subtle sub-tle hints from family and friends that began to tip me off. They'd say things like, "Boy you've put on the weight; haven't you," or, "Hey big g"y" And of course there was this little gem, courtesy of my skinny, younger brothers who can eat everything that isn't tied down without gaining an ounce,"Boy, you're fat." Needless to say, I began to suspect they were trying to tell me something. You might think I'm being shallow-minded by putting so much emphasis on my physical appearance, ap-pearance, but to be a sports writer, you've got to fit the part You have to write a certain way; you have to act a certain way, and you've got to have a lean, mean sports enthusiast look about you. I know what you're thinking. Every sports fanatic you've ever known inhabited a worn, yet comfy couch for weekends at a time, consuming con-suming everything that haplessly wandered into his grasp. But, to be a sports writer and interact with Davis County's top athletes and coaches on a daily basis, you've got to fit in, or they just won't respect you. Now that you know my dilemma, you can understand why I was desperate. des-perate. I had to do something and fast. Being a true sports fan, and a man easily persuaded by an honest face. I've got to admit that my first weight loss inclination was influenced in-fluenced by the amazingly thin and sincere baseball manager, Tommy La S or da. He had me convinced that Slim Fast was the way to go. After all, I n j wanted to lose weight fast without having to change my lifestyle too dramatically. Everytime his commercial would air, I was glued to the tube, amazed at the massive amount of mass he had been able to "un-amass." Finally, I decided to follow good ol LaSorda's advice. I must admit, the idea of drinking shakes twice a day did influence my decision somewhat, but after a few weeks, I realized that I was gaining weight and not losing it. I couldn't understand what was going wrong. I followed the directions direc-tions printed on the can explicitly: "Add two parts drink mix to 8 scoops ice cream and blend until..." Wait a minute! Eight scoops of ice cream; where' d that come from? This dieting thing was going to be harder than I expected. My subconscious sub-conscious was getting into the act. I decided that Slim Fast wasn't the way to go, but looking on the positive side, I had learned to make a great shake. Maybe I would have to break down and exercise. The thought made me shudder. "Maybe I'U just start walking every day," I thought to myself. "Nah, it'll take weeks, maybe months to lose the weight." I thought about running but decided it was too hard on the joints. I thought about swirriming, but I hate to get water in my ears and, well, as silly as it might sound, there may have been legal complications com-plications had I worn a swim suit in public. I contemplated racquet ball, wrestling, tennis, monopoly and weight lifting. But each form of physical exertion had some kind of drawback or another. I even tried aerobics for a day, but the teacher threw me out of the class because I couldn't exercise to the beat and kept throwing the rest of the class off. (I guess I'm not very coordinated.) Have you ever tried to aerobicize out of time with the music. It's a well-known fact that you can seriously seri-ously injure yourself. So, here I sit on my worn, yet comfy couch. When you get right down to it, this whole dieting dilemma is pretty discouraging. I guess I'll just sit here, flip on a preseason football game, have another an-other handful of com chips and try to figure something out. Like my mom always said, "Eat something; you'U feel better." |
