Wednesday, I needed to shoot over to the local lab to get some bloodwork done, and then it was home to the savory arms of a 225 calorie Soiled Egg Sammich1 before getting into some kit, looking at myself in the mirror, thinking about taking the kit off and downing a bottle of gin, aborting that boozy plan for some reason, and then going for a short 20-mile dirt road ride that hurt like it was 120.
The ride was one of my local Better Than The Trainer Rides™, so I’ve seen everything a million and a half times before, and that made for some crapper than usual photography. For this—and sixteen years of “blogging”—I apologize to you.
Other than a nice sunburn and the vurping up of the aforementioned Soiled Egg Sammich, the only other highlight was having a dirt road farm dog run alongside me for two miles. TWO MILES!
I tried riding back towards the farm to take it home, but it was having none of it. I also figured that this was not this dog’s first rodeo, and it would find its own way home.
I sort of enjoyed the company, but the dog did ruin two photos for me. The first was when it spooked a fawn near the edge of a wheat field that I wanted a shot of (didn’t), and the second was getting an image of the dog itself (did, but blurry). I like to live in a world where it found its own way home and is currently sipping water from its bowl and writing its blog:
“I ran two miles alongside a fat human man on a bike today; he smelled just like Beggin’ Strips! Not to be confused with the ever-popular pubis hairstyle for non-committal female humans that they refer to as a ‘bacon strip.’ I’m sure there is some ‘business in the middle, party down below’ mullet-like analogy in there somewhere, but sadly, I am but a dog and know more about actual bacon and pork-flavored canine treats than the follicle upkeep of female human crotchial regions. I digress.”
I could write that dog’s blog for it all day, do NOT encourage me. I mean, where else outside of a Cosmo article or a Penthouse Forum can you write about crotchial bacon strips?? Jesus, now I digress.2
Fast forward to the end of the day, and I got my blood work back; it turns out my fasting Lipid Panel is all very good! Not bad for someone 75 pounds overweight and considered “morbidly obese” in doctor speak’.
My overall cholesterol did go up but remains in the normal range, but keep in mind the last time I had my bloodwork completed, I was balls deep into a 6 month bout of rabid vegetarianism brought forth by some bad chicken. My blood glucose levels are also perfect. Yeah, fat and sort of fit!!
With the knowledge of good bloodwork, I had a follow-up with Doctor Bob on Thursday morning. We chitchatted about the catch-22 mind fuck of me being fat and sort of fit, and on antidepressants. So, we’ve agreed to work alongside Mindbender II (The Wrath of Kahn) and my O.G. Mindbender to ween my fat ass off of antidepressants, focus more on therapy, and get my body back into fighting shape. And by fighting, I mean how I looked when I was a sex worker back in the 90s. I’m joking, of course, I didn’t charge for that shit!
All joking aside, I would be happy enough to lose 25 pounds of the 75 I need to, and I am stoked that Doctor Bob didn’t think I was crazy for wanting to try getting off of meds and back down into a normal BMI.
MOTHER FUCKING SIDE NOTE: Listen, if you are on meds for any mental issue. DO NOT STOP TAKING THEM!!!!! I am stoked to try and get off the stuff in the future, but I realize how much they helped when I was at my lowest. If I didn’t have a knowledgeable therapist that I love and trust, I would NOT sacrifice my mental health for weight loss. Oh, who am I kidding? Yes, I would! BUT YOU SHOULDN’T. GODDAMNIT!! Joking of course. Stay safe and healthy.
I gotta go. I should have just said, “I rode 20 miles; I’m out of riding shape but have good cholesterol numbers. Here, look at these shit fucking photos.”
Later.