I WON THE LOTTERY!  More on that in a moment...

I have had a great couple of months.  Never before have I strung so many days together of great workouts, great nutrition and great mindset.

Never.

I don't have a whole heck of a lot to show for it but that doesn't bother me the way it has in the past.  A quick catch-up is in order...

I write this today at 354 lbs., just a frog's hair away from hitting the one hundred pounds to go marker.  I started off needing to lose 157 lbs. of fat, now it be just 101.43 lbs. to go... Arrrrrrgh, matey!

On June 28th I began eating six small meals a day and keeping my intake religiously below 1800 calories a day.  Darn near 100% compliance with the nutrition.  I've made every workout and stretched to strengthen the rehab work of the previous month.  All cylinders firing now...

Yet I am still only seeing .75 to 2.5 lbs. of fat lost each week.  It's confusing.

Last friday after one of the most painful weeks of my life (I was near an emergency gall-bladder chopped-out-a-me-echtomy) an unexpected diagnosis popped up: Diabetic Gastroparesis.  The muscles that contract to empty the stomach and move food through the intestines are weak and inefficient.

BY GEORGE, I THINK WE'VE GOT IT!  It explains everything, my brain tumor, the alternating positive and negative results for Celiac disease, autoimmune disorders, arthritis, inflammation, etc. etc. etc.  When I eat a hamburger it sits in my stomach, way, way too long.  It ferments (think spoils, fungus, mold, Britney Spear's last album, etc.) and then is dumped into my intestinal track.

In short, because the food I eat sits too long in my gut, I am poisoning myself with each bite.  So I work and work and sweat and sweat for weeks on end with some progress then take a "free" day.  That free day sets me back weeks, sometimes months.

The body fat analyzer says, "Oh, you've gained three pounds of lean mass this week" but it is reading that hamburger from two days ago as lean mass.  It isn't my biceps but the Carl's Jr. six dollar burger...

The scale hardly moves because I don't move that big glass of water for over a day or two.  My stomach would bloat to the point that the numbers I could see on the scale in the morning are completely obscured by my belly in the evening.

I am not worried because never has my exercise been so automatic.  Never before has my nutrition been so automatic.  I make good choice after good choice without much thought or drama nowadays. 

So, there it is: A lot of fat people make excuses for the shape they find themselves in.  I have a metabolic disorder... I hardly eat...  I'm just big-boned...  etc.

It turns out that I actually have a great, perfect excuse for my flabitude.  No B.S., no lies, no "excuses".  I WON THE FAT-GUY LOTTERY!  There is a real, medical reason for my situation.  The irony is this: after all of the effort, change and growth of the last two years, I don't give one damn about what is wrong with my "intestinal motility" - I'm only interested in fixing it and I have a plan.  This plan will get worked, it will adapt and it will work - guaranteed. 

I'll post more later on how I intend to address the problem but, know this,

Oh, yeah, baby, IT'S ON NOW.

I have now met the enemy and he is MINE.  Let's get ready to rrrrrrr-uuuuuuu-mmmmmmm-baaaaaallll.  I've spent a lifetime getting ready to face this demon down once and for all and this is the time, this is the place and I am finally the man I need to be to win.

Let the games begin...