Week 78: up .5 pound (-63 pounds total!)

LISTEN UP EVERYONE!  Season’s eatings is upon us.  If you are like me, it has already reared it’s sugar-coated head and wreaked havoc on your best intentions (up .5 pound - dammit!)  But this year we fight the good fight.  We soldier on.  We take the bull by the horns and we wrest ourselves free from the madness of the month ahead.  This year, this year that has seen SO MUCH change for the better, this year we Manticipate the tough times and rough choices, we Mancipate ourselves from caloric slavery…this year we Man up! 

You over there by the candy bowl.  I see you.  You wanna reach in and grab a handful, don’tcha?  You think you should have it because it’s the holidays, because the candy’s a gift, because this time of year is so hectic and stressful you just want to take a moment to enjoy a treat or two (or ten).  You deserve to indulge, right?  And you just want me to get off your back so you can enjoy yourself, for chrissakes!  How do I know all this?  Because I was you, not but three short days ago, my hand in the candy jar for the umpteenth time because it was the holidays and the candy was a gift and I just wanted to enjoy a treat or two (or ten).  Guess what?  IT’S NOT WORTH IT!  Take a look at the results above if’n you don’t believe me.  Wanna know what is worth it?  Ryan Reynolds, all six-packed out and looking like he drinks milk and knows how to fix shit and loves his mother…Manjoy him, ’cause his Hotness is sugar-free, high in protein and an excellent part of any balanced diet…ummm hmmm…

You over there by the punch bowl.  I see you.  That punch is spiked.  You wanna reach in and grab a glassful, don’tcha?  You think you should because it’s the holidays, because the hooch is flowing like water, because it’s a work party/family gathering/friend’s shindig and everyone else is three sheets to the wind so why should you be the only sober one in the hizzy?  Besides, you’ve been working so hard, times have been really tough lately and you just want to let loose and have some good times, good times while you can.  You deserve to indulge, right?  And you just want me to shut my trap and leave you free to get as crunk as you can possibly be.  How do I know all this?  Because I was you, not but five short days ago, downing pre-Thanksgiving drinks like so much water in anticipation of the many celebratory cocktails soon to commence, a warm-up perhaps, a liver test prep course.  Guess what?  IT’S NOT WORTH IT!  Take a look at the results above if’n you don’t believe me.  Wanna know what is worth it?  Dwayne Wade, all seven hundred feet of him, all ripped and muscular and extraordinarily built, with lips for smooching, arms for hugging, and an ass for grabbing, oh!  Manjoy him, ’cause his Hotness is thirst quenching, non-alcoholic goodness…ummm hmmm…

You over there on the couch.  I see you.  You been sitting on that couch for a while, haven’t you?  You want to move, you know you should move, but you can’t.  I’m sorry, I mean you “can’t”.  You’ve been watching yourself give in to your baser instincts time and time again…you’ve done the eating and the drinking, haven’t you?  But have you done anything physical?  Have you moved?  Hell no!  You think it’s too hard, don’tcha?  You don’t have the energy.  You think it will hurt and that you’ll look like an idiot in the process.  And so you wait.  You wait for the will, you wait for the power and in the meantime you continue to sit on that blasted couch!  Besides, your life is hectic and stressful and you just want to take a moment (or an evening) to relax and unwind.  You deserve to indulge, right?  And you just want me to get off your back so you can enjoy your 30th viewing of 30 Minute Meals.  How do I know all this?  Because I was you, not but two years ago, all lethargic and stuck and weak and stuck and couch potato-ey and stuck.  Guess what?  IT’S NOT WORTH IT!  You wanna know what hurts?  A heart attack.  That shit hurts.  Exercise doesn’t hurt nearly as much.  You’ll be sore, don’t get me wrong, but it WILL BE worth it.  And you wanna know what makes you look like an idiot?  Stretch pants.  Stretch pants will make you look like a mothertrucking idiot!  Yet that’s exactly where you’re headed.  I owe all Long Beach park goers an apology for the nastiness they’ve had to endure over this past year as I’ve jumped and kicked and crunched and lunged my way back into physical activity.  Between the jelly in my belly and the junk in my trunk, each going in a different direction and covered in sweat, holy crap it ain’t a pretty picture.  So what!  You’re jiggling baby?  Go ahead baby.  You’re jiggling baby.  Go ahead baby!!  And if you’re lucky your quest for physical perfection will lead you to the physical perfection that is one Mr. Derek Jeter…he may be gone for the winter but he is not gone from my heart…all quiet strength and dignity and fortitude and perseverance…Manjoy him, ’cause his Hotness is all pinstriped gumption and hall of fame grace…ummm hmmm….

Man up, people!  Buck the trend and fuck the tradition!  Manspiration can set us free!  Manspiration can set us free!!

And remember, always always always remember:

Nothing tastes as good as a Hot Man feels!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Week 79: down 0 pounds (-63 pounds total!)

Hey kids!  I’m bringing this month’s Requests and Dedications a smidge early for various and sundry reasons.  I figure you guys could use all the Manspiration you could get, considering the time of year, and my recurring Hot Manspiration picks don’t work for everyone (as Jenny so bluntly pointed out in last week’s comments…I am still reeling from the “that other sports dude” remark, but whatevs).  I’m also thrusting this month’s R & D (I said thrusting) out for early perusal because…well…aw hell kids, truth is I gots nothing to say.  Nothing!  I’m cereal.  I usually have a pretty strong inkling of the epic work of effing brilliance I’m gonna unveil before I even begin typing…not so this week.  I got nothing!  Except this - stay the course!!  Moderation!  Manspiration!  Everything in moderation except for Manspiration.  You don’t have to be perfect.  You just have to be better.  It’s the holidays, for chrissakes.  Even a 0 pound loss is a freaking accomplishment! 

And that’s all I have to say about that. 

Our first HMD R & D comes courtesy of A. in NYC.  I’m embarrassed to admit that her request came almost two months ago.  For shame, Leah, for shame!  She writes, “This fine specimen has stolen my heart.  Not only is he a veteran who joined the service AFTER 9/11, but he is Hot.  Also, he has created a foundation to support veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan, which is non-partisan and intelligent and thoughtful and truly patriotic.  And he is Hot.  His name is Paul Rieckhoff, and, hoo-rah, is he Hot.  (p.s. - i don’t really know what hoo-rah means but have seen many Hot men in movies shout it, so there you go).”  God bless America!  This man is indeed a fine specimen and author of the book Chasing Ghosts.  Here is a link to his site, which not only has more deets and more Hotness, but also has a link to Mr. Riekhoff’s hilarious appearance on The Colbert Report.  Please watch it, for NO pic does this ginormous hunk of a man justice.  He is ALL man, the kind of guy who drinks milk and can fix shit AND can match wits with Stephen Colbert, no easy feat.  Shout it with me ya’ll - HOO-RAH!

Our next request comes from A. in Long Beach.  She sent an email bearing pictures of one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen in my life and simply wrote, “Here is your inspiration for the day!  Purrr…”  Name - Sakis Rouvas.  Occupation - pop singer.  Country of origin - Greece.  And while the you tube videos are almost excrutiating in their unabashed cheesiness, they are worth it for the Hotness, the gyrating gyro of Hotness.  (And I thought Sabado Gigante was bad!  Jeesh.)  Bask in his Manificence, people, ’cause this kind of quality doesn’t come along every day.  Talk about a Greek god…

Last but not least we have a dual request from HMD family member Miss Gee!  She writes, “Hotness is: Luke Wilson in Old School (”Shhhh, Big Cat.  Stay with me, brother.”)  Ralph Fiennes in Shakespeare In Love (”you will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.”)  Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm”  Also in the email - “I didn’t think this through thoroughly.  But I’ll be back.  Oh I’ll be back.”  No need, for I know what she really means.  (I know you, girl!)  Joseph Fiennes in Shakespeare in Love.  Not that Ralph is not Hotness, oh hells no!  But his Hotness is The English Patient (”This, the hollow at the base of a woman’s throat, does it have an official name?”) and he shall be given his day in the HMD sun.  Right now we’re all about ’lil bro Joe.  And Luke.  Luke who has been here before.  Joe and Luke.  Two ends of the Hotness spectrum - one all English and Hot and poetic and Hot and tortured and Hot and passionately romantic and Hot and the other all American and Hot and chill and Hot and funny and Hot and good times, good times and Hot.  They’re like the alpha and omega of Hotness, yin and yang, darkness and light, deep and easy.  Ahhh yes, easy like a Sunday morning…  

Help me help you!  Email your Request and Dedication to herhotness@hotmandiet.com today!

Week 80 (Holy crap!  Is it really week 80?!?!?): down 3 Christmas parties (only one more party to go)

Seriously.  Did you really think I was gonna weigh in on this, the week of a thousand Christmas parties?

You did?

FINE!  I’ll do it, just to get you off my back.  But just realize that if/when the news is bad I’m gonna be ticked and it will all be your fault.  I hope you can live with that.  ALL YOUR FAULT.

If you are reading this late Monday night or super early Tuesday morning, the results will be posted below as soon as I awake.  I never weigh in at night.  Nope.  I only do it first thing in the am and stark ass naked.  Oooh…that sounded dirty!

Week 80: up .5 pound (-62.5 pounds total!)  Okay.  Not nearly the disastrous news I Manticipated.  Makes perfect sense.  Okay.  This, this I can handle.

Anyhoo…how ya’ll doing?  I know, I know, I’m late.  Forgive me.  My body was recovering from the many bottles of Prosecco I single-handedly took out this weekend.  Aaah, I love the bubbly, but it hates my head.  Or maybe it’s the other way around.  In any event, I needed every bit of sleep the sweet Lord above sought fit to give me.  And it was raining last night, really raining hard…I was so scared I had to hide under me covers!  It was raining!!  This is LA!  What the eff?!

But I’m here now, and I’m bringing the Hotness.  In fact, we’re gonna literally go right to it.  Screw talking about me and all my crap, ya’ll…I’m just over here trying to tow the line…trying to stay the course…trying to make it so that there’s not too much damage to fix come Jan 1…the hooch flows but the body knows…the food keeps coming but the body keeps running…I’m busting my ass up in here, kids!  This party girl is working it, ya’ll!  Don’t you worry about me.  I’m gonna be just fine!

Hot Manspirations of the Week:  Yesterday evening I had occasion to be at a dear friend’s house for a little shindig.  A topic was raised by an attendee that sparked much lively debate.  She was spilling the details of her brother’s impending marriage.  It seems this gent, at the tender age of 22, has decided to hitch his wagon to the star of a 30 year old woman.  Whaaa?!  The reversal of fortune which has this cougar dipping into some seriously young territory freaked us all out a bit.  It brings me shame to admit it, because I SHOULD applaud any woman’s right to try some tender meat from time to time.  But marriage?!  Long-term commitment with someone SO much younger?  Really?  So that led us to another topic - how young is too young?  And if you’re gonna go young, what young is the ideal young?  One guy offered up the formula created by a most sociologically prescient group - his frisbee team - as a basis for which to determine the “perfect” young mate age.  Take your age, divide by half and add 7.  This would leave me, as I am now teetering on the edge of 34, with a man 24 years old.  YES!  Actually…no.  I mean, I would love, love, love, LOVE to make love, love, love, LOVE to said young ‘un…but said young ‘un as a partner for life?  I dunno.  That scares me.  He would have way too much living to do, and I would have way too much angst over trying to keep up with him.  Right?  Ladies, do you feel me?  And yet, I have SEVERAL male friends well into their thirties who are married or dating women not-so-well into their twenties.  Over them - no angst.  Over me and the young ‘un - lots of angst.  What the hell?!  In any event, my friend Kara and I came up with a “female” version of this formula that is vastly more comforting.  Take your age, divide by half, and add 10.  Yes, this is much better.  And to all you 27 year olds out there, watch out!  Mama’s coming!

Ahhh, to be young and Hot.  Ahhh, to be young and Hot like Robert Pattinson.  To be the neck-bitingly lustful center of every Twilight fan’s dream.  And the accent…oh, it helps.  It always helps.  Not that you need help when you’re young and Hot.  Young and hot like Penn Badgley.  Ahhh, to be young and Hot like Penn Badgley.  To be the boy-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks lustful center of every Gossip Girl fan’s dream.  And the dating of the co-star…oh, it helps.  It always helps.  Not that you need help when you’re young and Hot.  Young and Hot like Chris Brown.  Ahhh, to be young and Hot like Chris Brown.  To be the “I need you, Boo” lustful center of every young R & B fan’s dream.  And the mad dancing skills…oh they help.  They always help.  Not that you need help when you’re young and Hot.  Young and Hot like one more Robert.  Young and Hot like Robert Buckley.  To be the cougar-bedding lustful center of every Lipstick Jungle fan’s dream.  And the more recent cougar-bedding of Heather Locklear in Lifetime’s Flirting With Forty (don’t even get me started with this one, this absurd fairy tale for the pre-menopausal crowd…Lifetime should be ashamed of themselves…this shit doesn’t happen in real life, it just DOESN’T!  Stop lying to us!!!)…in spite of the travesty of the lie, it helps.  All those scenes on the beach with him in all kinds of undress…it helps!  Not that you need help when you’re young and Hot.  Not that you need help at all.  Ahhh, to be young and Hot!     

Week 81: down 0 pounds (-62.5 pounds total!)

Good morning!  I’m coming to ya a smidge early this week, as I am homeward bound for Christmas.  Ahh, the East Coast…the snow has already come and according to all reports will keep on a comin’…my niece has my schedule already jam packed with tree decorating, gift wrapping and cookie making…my mother and I have already fought over the fact that wine is prohibited in her home (this in spite of the fact that I am 34 and only wanting a glass of Pinot Noir to go with my Christmas ham…I’m not trying to have tequila shots in the hizzy, just a nice ADULT sipper with my dinner…whatevs)…my grandmother has already requested several trips to the mall (a place I try my hardest to avoid the week before Christmas but I just know, I know, she’ll find a way to have me out there Christmas Eve…at which point that glass of wine would REALLY come in handy!)…two friends of mine are stuck in LA due to serious weather and cancelled flights…ahhh, in the air there’s a feeling of Christmas…

All kidding aside, I’m definitely ready for my white Christmas.  I’m ready for the twinkling lights and the falling snow and the warm hugs of family and old friends…the comfort of surroundings so intimately familiar, so basic, so dear, so homey…and even though life gets crazy and people are rushing about…and even though I will have moments of panic, of worry, so determined am I not to inflict too much damage upon the scale when I see it again next Monday…even though I will be surrounded by cookies and cakes and pies and treats galore, galore, galore…in spite of all this, I must remember, we must remember, the reason for the season.  At my mom’s church they like to say that Jesus is the reason for the season, and I am not here to dispute them but instead offer up this less secular explanation - BELIEVING is the reason for the season.  Believing in yourself.  Believing in something greater than yourself.  Believing that life, at any moment, can change in the very way you need it to change.  Believing in the possibility of things, of ALL things, of great big fantastic things, of great big Mantastic things, believing in the possibility of a man whose sole job is to travel around the globe bringing gifts of joy to everyone…there can be miracles when you believe.  The song may be cheesy, but the sentiment is true.  There CAN be miracles when you believe.  And if seeing is believing picture this - last year at this time I had only lost twenty pounds.  Could we be here this time next year with me another forty pounds down?!  Holy crap!  That’d be 100 pounds lost!  That’d be unbelievable!!  

Crazy thing is - I believe it.  

Happy Holidays!!!  Have a wonderful week wherever you are, whatever you celebrate, whatever you do.  Enjoy this Hot Santa and stay Manspired!  The new year is only a week and a half away!  Holy crap!

Week 82 (aka Weak 82, aka Christmas Week, aka Christmas WEAK!): down ? pounds (-62.5 pounds total!) 

Hello everyone!  Good morning.  Guess what - I’m not weighing in.  Except emotionally.  Seriously guys, it was Christmas!  I was home!  I baked a lot of (fantastic!) cookies.  I made a (killer!) roast.  I had a few (well deserved, much needed!) cocktails.  Not weighing in.  No.  Way.  Un.  Uh. 

Did ya’ll have a loverly holiday week?  Mine was what one would expect - some good times, some stressful times, some busy times, some cold times…I would be lying if I did not say that I am loving the quiet solitude of my little apartment.  But I am beat to pete, I can never adjust to East Coast time very well, so today’s entry shall be but a brief check-in. 

Thursday is the first day of the new year.  2009.  Damn!  This is the time for resolutions, is it not?  The time when we take stock of our lives and earmark areas in need of improvement.  For my own part, I can say with pride that I begin this new year in a better place than last year and a much, MUCH better place than two years ago.  That’s half the battle, right?  Just to feel progress.  But I am also the person whose mind is more often centered around the things that aren’t yet right (a fault, I know), and this time of year seems to prey on that weakness.  Needless to say my mind has been abuzz with thoughts of this ilk, all kinds of critical crap swarming and swirling about my head, weighing me down.   

But then a funny thing happened on the way to Los Angeles.  Yesterday morning I awoke to find myself in a drizzly, overcast New York city, comfortable though I was in a good friend’s apartment on an airbed I’d spent far too little time enjoying.  On the wall was a picture of Picasso’s Don Quixote.  Even in my sleep deprived state, the musical theater geek in me began humming ”The Impossible Dream”:

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far

Yes.  This IS my quest.  All swarming, swirling critical crap aside, I have fought what used to be an unbeatable foe.  I have tried when my arms were too weary.  And that star, that unreachable star, I see it coming ever closer, bit by bit, inch by inch…I know I’ll reach it.  I will follow that star, I do follow that star.  It brought me back here, back to the quiet solitude of my little apartment, it put my sneakers and my sweats on and got me outside and moving even though I had every valid excuse in the world not to.  And it brings me here to you all, week after week, month after month, so that I may be held accountable for these dreams.  And my resolution for next year, which I intend to start TODAY, is to throw off the last remaining chains of fear and resistance, to let my quest to reach this star affect ALL areas of my life.  To take the bravery and the honesty and the humility that it took to get me here, 60 plus pounds lighter in front of the world, to take them and use them to help my career, to help my love life, to help my relationships with my family and friends.  Yes!  THIS is my quest.   

Hot Manspiration of the YEAR!:  Talk about an impossible dream.  How fitting, how perfect, how wonderful, how Manspiring!   If you ever doubt that things can change, that great big things can change, doubt no more.  Doubt no more.  Doubt no more. 

Dream the impossible dream, kids!  He did!  Thank God he did!  Happy New Year!!