This is how much I weighed when I started my diet, 60 days ago:

With some feet, since they’re probably my best feature

This is how much I weighed when I got on the scale this morning, marking the end of my diet:

Even my feet look thinner!

This is what I have to say to all the people who said I couldn’t do it:

Looking like a crazy person early in the mornin’

For 60 days, I dieted.  The goal was to lose 20 pounds in those 60 days.  I cut my calories dramatically.  Prior to dieting, I was consuming about 3000 calories a day during the week and upwards of 5000 on the weekends.  I shrank this to 1200 on weekdays and probably around 3500 on the weekends.  This was, believe it or not, surprisingly easy - in part because I compensated for lack of calories with more masturbation.  Which was nice.     

For 60 days, I dieted.  The goal was to lose 20 pounds in those 60 days.  I cut my calories dramatically.  Prior to dieting, I was consuming about 3000 calories a day during the week and upwards of 5000 on the weekends.  I shrank this to 1200 on weekdays and probably around 3500 on the weekends.  This was, believe it or not, surprisingly easy - in part because I compensated for lack of calories with more masturbation.  Which was nice.     

I also began “running.”  For my first “running” exercise, I decided to run as long as I could without stopping from being short of breath.  I lasted two and a half blocks and had to be carried back to my apartment by a Chinese family who I later learned were itinerant (the Hans – lovely people, except that little cocksucker Huan).  Slowly but surely, I progressed.  This past Sunday, I ran for 6.1 miles straight.  And I probably could have gone on longer, but after 60 minutes the treadmill goes into a 5 minute “cooling period” and then shuts down.  I now try to run at least 3 miles every time I’m at the gym.  Otherwise, no masturbating when I get home. 

When I started the diet, I was wearing size 38 pants.  If you listened closely though, you could hear my button and zipper holding on for dear life, screaming bloody murder (“Can’t…hold it…much…longer!  Smell…of semen…too strong!”).  So really, my waist was at least size 39, possibly 40.  As I type this, I am wearing size 36 pants and I feel comfortable and look fashionable (I also had to buy a new belt, as I ran out of notches on my old one and thought it wouldn’t be very professional to use a dart or kitchen knife to make another hole)

I have lost 33 pounds in 60 days (I had lost 20 by Day 38).  I am noticeably thinner, faster, more fit.  Most of my clothes fit me better; some don’t fit at all, since they’re too big.  I no longer suffer from heartburn, (most) poo problems, nor do I have trouble sleeping.  Even though I have yet to begin weightlifting, I’ve noticed muscles appearing in my arms, legs, and shoulders that were not there previously.  If I were to make love, I imagine I could do so for a longer amount of time (because, of course, I’m usually incapable of having an orgasm when I’m making love, as I’m so drunk I might as well be having sex with an empty trash bag, so how long I last depends entirely on physical rather than genital stamina). 

Most importantly, for me at least, it that for the first time in a very long time, I am under 200 pounds.  Sure, it’s only 199.5, but I’m kind of a lawyer and I can tell you that 199.5 is legally below 200.  All my life I’ve been 6’1″ and floating around 235.  Now I am 6’1″ and under 200 pounds.  This blows my fucking mind.

[I mentioned before that my junior year of high school ('95-'96) I ran for Student Council under the slogan "239 lbs of Vice President."  So I'm guessing the last time I was around 200 pounds was my freshman year of high school, 13 years ago.] 

But aside from the physical benefits, I feel great across the board.  I feel smarter.  I’ve never read books at such a feverish pace.  I’ve taken to going back to my old Russian books and cds and am brushing up on the language.  My bed is surrounded by books of poetry, partially to impress any women that lie there with me but also because when I read them they make me cry a little bit.  And all this calorie counting has made me a human calculator. (310 + 440 = 750.  I didn’t even have to look that up.)

I feel more driven.  I’ve set up a number of goals for myself – physically, mentally, professionally – for the next few months and intend to meet – nay, destroy – them.  I won’t get into mental or professional goals because some are gay and some are surprises, but the physical goals I can talk about.  When I started this diet, I intended these last 60 days to be only Phase I of the Jason Mulgrew Reclamation Project (Phase I was also known as ”Let’s Move It, Fat Chops”).  I had no specific goals aside to move more, eat less, and lose weight.  Phase II (“Now We Have Something To Work With”) will last through September and October and will involve circuit training with weights and more high level cardio activity, namely running 15-20 miles per week.  Phase III (“One of My Balls Could Beat Your Ass”), in November and December, will be the most intense yet.  During this phase I hope to be running 25+ miles per week and, after getting my muscles under control in Phase II, getting involved in some serious weightlifting.  The goal is that by January 1, 2007 I will be able to kill a man with one punch AND fuck his girlfriend AND climb a mountain to escape the police.  You know, pretty much what every guy wants.     

I feel more creative.  Maybe it hasn’t come across here in the blog, but in terms of my projects, I feel alight with inspiration and couldn’t be happier with how things are going.  Additionally, for the first time in four years, I’ve started writing music again.  I know that sounds precocious and I realize that creating songs that rhyme “You hit on my dad/I attract fags” does not warrant such a pompous declaration, but it’s true. 

[Also, "dad" and "fag" really do rhyme.  Bet you didn't realize that before you read this post.] 

This is a very good time in my life.  A most excellent time, even.

But there is one problem.  As you read this, I’m guessing that you’re having either one of two reactions.  I hope that you are saying, “Good for Jason.  I’m happy for him.  And I’ll probably fuck him now.”  Or you could be thinking, “Dude, stick to eating mozzarella sticks in the tub.  I don’t want to hear about this shit.” 

For those in the latter camp, I want to assure you that I will ALWAYS enjoy eating mozzarella sticks in the tub.  I’m not just saying this either; I love mozzarella sticks and am eating one now.  But I wanted to point out that this diet has strictly been limited to my personal time.  The diet has manifested itself when I’m alone: eating breakfast and lunch in my office or heating up a dinner at my apartment or going to the gym after work.  Never have I let it affect my social life.  I get really fucked up on the weekends (and some weekdays) and drink whatever I want (I’ve mentioned many times that my tolerance has been lowered because of this diet, which is great).  I have plowed through many a slice of pizza at 4am.  And I’ve gorged myself on all sorts of fat-full dinners out over the past few weeks.  Socially, I’m the same consumer that I’ve always been. 

(If you don’t believe me, bring some mozzarella sticks to my place tonight.  I’ll sit in the tub and eat them and you can sit on the toilet and watch.  But keep your eyes above sea level, if you know what I mean.)

And now I promise that I will stop writing about the diet, since it is, effectively, over.  Of course, I may talk about going to the gym, but that’s because it’s an endless source of material (also, I am falling desperately in love with a girl there; it’s only a matter of time before we are husband and wife so you should get to know her now, as I’ll need your approval of course).  You won’t be hearing anything more about how much weight I’ve lost (especially since as I’m shifting now to a protein-based diet and will begin lifting I expect to gain 10 pounds back and don’t want to brag about that), or how much weight I’m lifting or any of that.  So don’t worry.  Uncle Jason is here.  So is Larry.  So is normal Jason.  Everything’s gonna be alright. 

But for now, it is a time to celebrate.  My old roommate Brian and I have recently invented a new level of drunkenness: impotent drunk.  As the name implies, it is getting so drunk that you are unable to get and maintain an erection.  Well, I’m getting impotent drunk this weekend – all weekend.  I’ve got a buddy in town from Boston and another coming from Philly this Saturday and the situation should be fully out of control by about tonight at 10pm.  I may even poop myself – who knows?  I’m going to play it by ear.  All I know is that I’ve worked pretty hard and things are probably going to get a little crazy over the next 48 hours.

In closing, thank you for tolerating my talk of dieting.  While I am apologetic about how much space I’ve used on the blog to discuss the diet, it doesn’t change the fact that I think what I’ve done is pretty fucking awesome – no apologies for that.  But in the future, I look forward to talking less about it (or not at all).  Except of course when I gain 45 pounds over the next two weeks.  I’ll be sure to chronicle that.

[Have a good weekend.]