Tag Archives: diet

NUTRITION MASTER 2000

This week I’ve been a total ball of nutritional fury (in the good way). If nutritional value had any value, its value would be a picture of my face. Or something that makes more sense. Basically, I might have to change my name to Gary Nutrition because I am the most nutritional nutritionism that’s ever happened. Occurred. Been. Is.

It’s been a week of the sorts of power foods that homely-looking tossers talk about on shows and adverts where they say “natural” and “organic” and “cunt” a lot. If health was a thing it would be rebranded to be called “Ian” and anything healthy would have my face on it.

Which would be unfortunate, as it would discourage people from eating healthily. Who would buy something with my face on or in it? Well, aside from the readers of all the fine magazines I’m in, obviously. At least, the ones that do feature my face.

Anyway, my nutritional adventure has taken me to such lows as a bit of chicken with some brown rice all the way to the highs of Far Too Many miniature potato waffles, a burger and even, earlier today, a Pot Noodle (with a triple Bounty for dessert).

Basically I am the healthiest person alive and my new diet of mini potato waffles (they’re like potato waffles but smaller) means I will lose weight and gain muscle and be healthy and change the world and go to bed.

I think just the last bit is true there.

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The salty hangover

I awoke this morning with something I haven’t knowingly experienced before. I have experienced it, as… well, I just clearly have. There’s no way I haven’t. The more I think about it, the more I realise that yes, I did experience it but I always ignored it, didn’t notice it or it just didn’t generally register because I felt so shitty all the time anyway.

The pizza hangover.

I did not drink yesterday. It’s why I’m so thirsty all the time (copyright Rik Mayall). But I had no booze. I had some coffee, some tea, some Diet Coke (sorry), but no alcohol. I had a pizza, as I had forgotten to bother cooking (Skyrim) and Papa John’s had mailed me some stupid offer (marketing works).

I had a massive pizza.

I have been eating healthily for the last year – at least in general. I have lost over three stone. I do not now have takeaway three nights running, as I might have done on more than one occasion in Leeds. And Preston. And Manchester.

And Bournemouth.

As such, I have been what some might call ‘reasonably healthy-feeling’, to the point where it’s just normal to feel normal now. Eating a full pizza to yourself, apparently, has some negative effects come morning time.

I awoke feeling genuinely like I had hangover, sans-nausea. The incredibly dry mouth, the painful head, the lack of balance (less hangover, more natural Dransfield) – it all pointed to a night on the tiles.

But it was just a pizza. A mere (massive) pizza (also some potato wedges because SHUT UP THAT’S WHY).

To be honest, it’s done quite a good job of convincing me to not do that again. I mean, if they make you feel like that just by eating one, what the fuck is in them? Pizza people: start lacing your food with something like heroin and we can talk again.

For now? I’m off them. Until next time I go to Leeds and get a Cano, obviously.

0 of 14 catch up entries to go. Thank fuck.

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Weight loss: piss easy, apparently

I am now to allow myself a spot of arrogance. It is a window of opportunity that will probably remain quite small, so I have to take the chance when I can get it. As some of you may know from my ceaseless bleating, I have lost quite a bit of weight recently. In fact, I’ve dropped over two stone in two and a bit months. Like I said – I’m allowing myself some arrogance.

What I’m getting at is that I can now be a terrible twat to people who struggle to lose weight, because I have lost a fair amount of poundage and it hasn’t been difficult at all. It took a while and I had to remain committed to a routine, but it wasn’t what I would consider difficult. That seems to be a common complaint – ‘it’s too hard’.

No, it isn’t. You just stop eating shit. You exercise. When somebody asks if you want five more pies, you politely decline the five more pies. Stop it with the cake. When it’s time to exercise, you do the exercise instead of going for a pie filled with cake. I’m well aware how rich and self-righteous this is coming from someone who only just bothered paying attention to their weight, but like I said – I’m allowing myself arrogant time.

I can actually remain like this once the pounds pile back on, though then I’m more likely to be joining in with the crowd who crow on about not being able to keep the weight off. That’s definitely fair and absolutely not hypocritical.

Anyway, yeah – I’m great, you all suck. Stop making excuses and actually make an effort, I’m well good me etc etc etc.

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