Excerpts from It Seemed Like a Compliment to Me and
Thoughts of an Average Joe
Average Joe’s Revolutionary Weight Loss Plan
I’d like to weigh less. I’d be healthier and I’m pretty sure the little woman would like a thinner husband. But I love to eat. I like beer, too.
As my girth increases, it’s becoming apparent that my passion for chocolate, burgers, fries and Pabst Blue Ribbon exceeds my longing to be thinner.
Winnie knows how I feel and tries to help. She rarely bakes cookies or pies. Unfortunately, Candi, the payroll girl at North Woods Construction where I work, loves to bake and is very good at it. I try to resist but I’m not very good at that. Winnie subscribes to a bunch of those women’s magazines which are just full of ways to take off fat. She had me on the “All Spinach and Broccoli Diet” for two days until she couldn’t stand the gaseous emissions any longer. I was self propelled for several days, farting with every step down the hallway and our home was starting to take on the odor of “Myra”—the outdoor two-seater up to camp, my Nana named after the mean old lady in the cottage next door.
The “All Liquid Diet” didn’t work out well either. I had to pee every ten minutes and gained ten pounds in a week. Winnie told me liquids only. She didn’t explain that didn’t include chocolate milkshakes or Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.
Then there was “The Daily Enema Program”. I was allowed to eat a lot due to the daily “cleansing”, but it was a pain in the . . . well, you know.
“The Grapefruit Diet” was boring and the acid nearly burned a hole through my stomach. It made me grumpy.
We tried the “No Carbs, No Fat, No Salt Diet”. They should call it the “If It Tastes Good, Spit It Out Diet”. You can imagine how long I stuck to that one.
Looking around, especially at SmallMart, I’ve noticed there are lots of big people. I decided I’d come up with my own weight loss plan and write a book about it. I’ve included the book, in its entirety, in my book, It Seemed Like a Compliment to Me.
Average Joe’s Revolutionary Weight Loss Program
Do I need to explain that?
Lay off the chocolate, chips and cheesecake. If you really like it, you probably shouldn’t eat it.
Drink Less Beer
A lot less. Yes, that includes you Barnie, Munzie and Roy.
Get More Exercise
Walk more . . . more than just from the couch to the fridge.
Dr. Braley told me it was time for my first colonoscopy when I turned 50 and when I tuned 51 and 52 and 53 and 54. At 55 I told him I was pretty sure I didn’t need one and that it sounded like a pain in the rear.
“But Joe,” he explained, “Colon cancer kills. If we find it early, we can kill it before it kills you.”
I thought about Winnie, the kids, the grandkids, beer, Black Velvet, Slim Jims, Jack Link’s Teriyaki Beef Jerky and how much I’d miss them all, so I agreed to have my butt scoped.
Dr. Braley wrote me a prescription for something with a fancy medical name like crapowtinablast emulsion. Now that I’ve used it, I call it “Orange Flush Nuclear Explosion”.
So, at noon, I drank my gallon of “Orange Flush Explosion” and waited. Five minutes lapsed and nothing.
“I knew it. This stuff doesn’t work on guys who eat jalapeño peppers and deer liver for breakfast. At minute number six, I felt a strange gurgling sensation in my gut. I did the 40 yard dash in 3.8 seconds . . . almost in time. I’d have made it to the toilet in time if the cat hadn’t decided to do Pilates stretches in my path.
There was significant thrust factor in that initial movement. Had I not held onto the toilet seat for all I was worth, I’m sure I’d have been launched like an astronaut without a rocket ship to the ceiling. Anyway, eight hours and forty-seven trips to the commode later, my bowels were clean as a whistle . . . and, by the way, with enough fluid pressure, one can whistle from that end too . . .
(On to the procedure)
“Just roll on your side Mr. Wright and we’ll get started. You can watch on the TV monitor if you’d like.”
“No thank you. Are you kidding me? No way. And by the way, before you ask, I don’t want to watch your cousin’s hemorrhoidectomy either.”
I think Dr. Hineepeeker liked me. Shortly after my humorous comment, I heard her order the anesthesia guy to “give him a little bonus”. The next thing I remember, I was in the recovery room.
The nurse’s assistant was offering me muffins and coffee when Dr. H entered and complimented me. “You did a great job with the prep work, Mr. Wright. You are the only patient we ever had use the crapowtinablast and lose half his body weight.”
Doctors who try to be funny usually aren’t. I wish they’d stick to medicine and leave the comedy to us professionals.