Fatty McButterpants Gets a Drill Instructor

It all started out innocently enough. See, I was already sporting some extra obesitude (I hereby claim the coining and trademark of that word for Chewy Enterprises LTD.) when I went back home for Christmas. I knew it and I was concerned, sure, but not nearly concerned enough to deny myself that artery clogging, diabetes inducing, belt snapping goodness that is the best of Chicago cuisine.

My first stop after we'd picked the rental car up at O'hare was Lou Malnati's Pizza - and this before I'd even stopped to visit my very own Mom! Thereafter, until we flew back to Hong Kong, I ran a deadly gauntlet of giant burritos, Italian Beef & Sausage sandwich combos (with cheese of course) and a regular morning regimen of greasy spoon breakfasts chock-full-o' cholesterol and trans fats.

Christ, I haven't seen my feet in weeks.

And so it was that when we got back to Hong Kong, The Girl and I had the following conversation:

"Wow, Boy, after Chicago you really have alot of meat!" (In Girl-speak that means I'm freakin' huge)

"Thanks, appreciate that. You really know how to spot the obvious, you know?"

"I'm just worried about you, that's all"

"Well, I said I was going to drop 20 pounds immediately after we got back and th..."

"But then you put on 10 more in Chicago so now you have to lose 30"

"Aw fer Crissakes..."

"Do you want me to help you to lose weight?"

And this is where the wheels fell off. Simply because I replied "yeah, sure- however you can."

*** Insert ominous, doom-like chord here ***

The next morning my alarm went off at 7 AM. This was odd because I didn't have to work that day and, even if I had, I would have set my alarm for 8:30. Before I could really do a full assessment of what the hell was happening, I felt the covers being ripped off of me, a cold draft enveloping me and a thin, reedy voice saying...

"Get up, Boy! You gotta go on the treadmill! I'm not going to leave you alone to sleep so you might as well just get up...fatty!"

Grrrrrrr. Having weighed the pros and cons and coming to the conclusion that knocking her out would be a decidedly bad thing to do, I dragged my humorless demeanor and astonishing girth out to the living room to do battle with the unholy TX-2000. The Devil's Treadmill.

Later that day, both of us having the day off, we decided to go out for lunch somewhere near out apartment. We chose a Chinese restaurant that I really, really Love- mainly because they make the best spring rolls and Har Gau on the planet - and settled in with a cup of tea while we waited to order. I asked a passing waitress for a menu and she said "more?" which baffled me.

As if on cue, the waiter came with our food....that we hadn't ordered??? Turns out The Girl faxed our order in advance so that she could order for me. Son of a....

There were vegetables, many of which I'd never seen before. There were three kinds of tofu, all of which I never want to see again. And there was rice. Lots and lots of rice. Sadly, it was steamed rice. Not fried- steamed. As was I right about then.

And so this is how it's been going since we got back from Chicago. My Honey Nut Cheerios? Banished, replaced with a small bowl of plain oatmeal with a couple of bonus blueberries thrown in there like some kind of twisted joke. My Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby? Gone, she ate it with her girlfriends. No word on what happened to my bratwursts but it doesn't look good.

I gotta put a stop to this, reclaim my own free will. Gotta walk right up to her like a man and say...

Ooops, sorry, gotta go!

She's calling me for evening calisthenics.