jasona - Column for 11/27

The Cold People

So, recently, I decided to lose weight. I'd always been a big boy -- for the longest time you could compute my weight by multiplying my age by 10. That worked until I got to 25 and started to worry.

So then I hit they gym -- well, I hit the gym more often. Now, don't get me wrong, I was no slouch at going to the gym -- there are times when I would burn 1000+ calories in under an hour on the Stairmaster alone. I could freak myself out by measuring how many pounds of evaporated water I could lose in just one workout.

That's a moot point. I certainly slowed down the weight loss, but it never really started a negative climb. Always the stead march onto the waist.

Earlier this year I weighed in at 272, and that's one sizeable boy (well, 34 year old). Long story short (too late) -- I decided to ask a professional for help. A friend of a friend lost tons of weight going to a nutritionist, so I thought I'd give it a whirl. I'd been on all sorts of "healthy" diets in the past (low fat, vegetarian, etc...). I just never used the diets with the intent of losing weight; only to keep myself more, well, fit.

In any case, it's not that I'm preaching a diet or anything, or telling people that they should see a nutritionist. That's not why I'm ranting here today. Oh no.

I'm ranting because you blasted skinny people should have told you you're always freezing. You bastards.

I've lost 45 pounds so far and this is the coldest winter I've ever met, and it's only just started... we haven't even reached December yet. I even just teased my housemate for shaving his head right before winter. But damn -- that fat was useful...

What the hell were you thinking? Why didn't you warn me?

I wake up -- I don't want to get out of bed. My bed is warm, I mean, really. I never noticed it before but it's like a suckling cocoon of invested bodily warmth.

I walk down the mall from work, and my hands are freezing. I have to stuff them deep in my pockets, and I even consider running into the sporting goods store to buy mittens.

I sit at my computer composing Cant columns, and my legs are numb with cold. This is California. It's, what, sixty degrees outside? Damn you all, you could have warned me.

I used to love the cold. I'd keep all sorts of windows open in my house all the time. The bathroom was routinely an ice vault. When climbing into bed late at night I dared not play footsie with a girlfriend for fear that I'd send her into hyperthermia. You'd think they'd at least tell me how it's like to be BTU-challenged (1)... bah!

Don't get me wrong.. I love being lighter than I have been in over a decade. I love all the stupid standard stuff you get with having lost weight (2) . I just thought the only thing I'd have to give up was eating certain foods -- that and having to follow a more Sun Ra-centric gym regime.

Bastards. You're a bunch of cold non-cassandric bastards.


1) Well, they did actually yell at me to close the window, and tell me not to put my got damn icicle toes on 'em... but they could have been more convincing. Pah. Girls.

2) Bounding up stairwells, having only one chin, fitting into those pants in the back of the closest that went out of style 10 years ago.

Columns by jasona