I don't know why, but Run, Fat Boy, Run is terribly fun to write. It's just... it's me. Except not really. Many of these things have happened to me, and most of them still are. But, meh. It's a thing most people go through. I think that this really shows the character's attitude and yeah... It's just fun.
Enjoy day 2
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Day Two
I woke up this morning and ate a bowl of cereal. Well… two if you want to be all… scientific about it. So, the nutrition facts on the cereal box said that a serving (which I guessed was a full bowl of cereal) was a hundred a twenty calories. And that wasn’t even the milk, which made me feel bad because I had eaten two bowls – two hundred and forty calories – and that hadn’t even included the milk.
I thought, “Oh, screw the milk. It probably didn’t count anyways.”
Calories added up rather quickly, as I noticed during lunch. There weren’t nutrition labels on everything, mind you. Just the milk carton. I had sat at the lunch table, guestimating how much my curly fries and my fried chicken had cost me.
It wasn’t looking too bright.
It was gym right after lunch, and we ran the whole period. It was a hot April day, and from the moment that I stepped outside, I knew that my pits were going to be soiled by the end of the class period. I remember hesitantly making my way to the starting line. My teacher blew the whistle and I started jogging.
Don’t get me wrong – I love the whole point of running. It gets your heart racing, your blood pumping. Calories supposedly fly right off of you and you’re supposed to feel great afterwards.
My legs grew very weary after the first fifteen seconds. I mean, whose wouldn’t? About two fifty pound legs jostling around, and my poor bones had to keep myself upright. I feel sorry for the little guys.
And – true to my word – my pits were like an ocean. A huge, yellow, stinky ocean. I cursed myself for not bring deodorant to school.
I went home after school that day – gasping for breath because I had missed the bus due to my English teacher not letting us out on time – and wrote down my estimated calorie intake: five hundred and fifty.
“Hey,” I thought to myself. “It’s not even dinner and I haven’t even reached the halfway point yet!”
So, after that uplifting thought, I dug out the old popcorn and fixed myself a bag. I looked at the nutrition label and wrote down an extra three hundred calories.
Not bad. Eight hundred and fifty – not even halfway there!
I guess that it was then that I realized that I didn’t actually eat as bad as I thought I did. I had thought that my calories would reach up into the higher thousands – but I was completely wrong.
And then dinner came along.
Let’s just say that I was obsessed with knowing exactly how many calories everything had – it was quite obnoxious really. My parents kept staring at me like I was some half minded loser. Since when did their son care about his health? Anyway, for dinner I consumed three big scoops of mashed potatoes, two smaller slabs of turkey (I had learned that too much meat was bad for your health,) a small spoonful of steamy corn, and lots of butter.
Hey, I can’t be perfect!
After much scrutinizing and an agonizing debate of how many calories everything had, I said, “Oh, screw it.”
I scribbled at the bottom of my worksheet – the one where we had to write how many calories we partook of – the number two thousand.
“There. I was dead on. No more, no less,” I muttered.
See? I’m not that horrible of an eater. I eat vegetables – potatoes - and fruit – my cereal was Fruit Loops.
“Nah,” I said to myself later that night. “I can lose weight if I wanted to.” And I do want to. It’s just the matter of doing the diet. Thinking about it – as much fun as that sounds – doesn’t quite cut it.
I finished off the night with a thriller movie and large bowl of ice cream, ‘cause frankly, I deserved it.
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Hehe. ^^
