I'm pretty sure that some iteration of "lose weight" or "get healthier" tops most new year's resolution lists, widely beating out such other favorites as "quit smoking" and "stop killing hookers". Now, I may not be so outwardly full of it that I make real resolutions, but the sad fact of the matter is that even I can't fully escape the temptation of using the new calendar as a checkpoint for change. I'm pretty sure you see where I'm going with this, so let me back up for a second to fill you in on the perfect storm of signs from the universe that mutated into the impetus behind this creeping desire to better myself physically:

1. It's a new year; you can't beat up a homeless guy without change being thrown in your face -- in more ways than one.
2. Last week Christie and I subjected ourselves to a marathon of The Biggest Loser. I'll admit that it's an inspiring testament to human will and perseverance to see others make such dramatic changes in their life, yet at the same time you can't help but wonder in what ridiculous set of circumstances somebody could let themselves go for so long. Then you look down at the half tub of ice cream you just plowed through -- the mere act of which made you sort of wheezy -- and it all starts to become a little clearer.
3. Since almost a year ago (back when I was doing all the things I wish I was still doing), I've gained 40 pounds. Four-zero. Now thankfully, at 6'7" I'm able to spread it out a little better than most, but still -- 40 POUNDS. I could cut my leg off at the knee and still not lose that much weight. I checked here, and I'd have to jump rope for over 7 days straight to drop that kind of flab. Either that or forgo 824 pints of beer in the near future, neither of which has a fighting chance of happening.

It's safe to say that something has to change, regardless of how cliche the timing may be. At the very least I think my rep will maintain its neutral buoyancy so long as heart disease and/or adult-onset diabetes remain a lifestyle faux pas. I might also consider getting on board with some kind of fad diet, but thus far they all seem a bit too contrived (read: super retarded) to really work for me. I guess that means it's back to the basics -- eating right and exercise.

I know, I just cringed a little too. Maybe doubly so for those of you thinking I'm going to run this blog into the ground with regurgitated health advice and a never-ending picture stream of my dwindling moobs. Rest assured that will not be happening. You know, unless I ever manage a six pack, in which case there might be a quick shot of me doing something erotic with my shirt off, like mopping the kitchen floor or removing spyware from someone else's computer. That being said, I remain a firm believer in accountability, so I've instituted a barely noticeable feature on the sidebar that tracks my weight loss to date. You can expect me to update weekly, just as I expect you to ridicule me should that number be moving in the wrong direction. By harnessing this, the power of negative reinforcement, I hope to have finally found a way to put my latent Daddy issues to good use, even if it requires swapping them out for body image issues.One day at a time people, one day at a time.