Supersize...Me?

As some of you loyal readers may or may not know, I recently watched the enlightening documentary Supersize Me, and found it to be, well, almost unbelievable. After some indirect and very unintentional personal testing, I can now say with conviction that the film is in no way lacking credibility to this author.

If you are completely unfamiliar with the film, basically the film's creator and host, Morgan Spurlock, attempts to prove the unhealthy effects of America's excessively fast-food based diets. He does so by eating McDonalds 3 times a day, 30 straight days, while required to eat everything on the menu at least once, and to supersize his meal if ever asked by any employee. The results were amazing. In a seemingly short time Morgan gained 24.5 lbs, added 65 points to his cholesterol, increased his body fat by 7 percentage points, doubled his risk for heart failure, had his liver react as if he were an alcoholic, and he even admitted to losing his libido during the home stretch. He had basically completely turned his health situation around in a month.

The biggest problem I had with this film...it's desired effect was lost on me. I knew the concepts preached in it (it was more than just McD's, it touched on all aspects of America's lack of physical fitness and nutritional awareness) were unquestionably useful, yet what was my first reaction to a scene in which he pukes after trying to eat a supersized double quarter pounder with cheese meal in about 25 minutes? I craved the number 4, McDonald's code for the aforementioned DQPC meal. I knew it was wrong, and I knew it would taste nasty, but like the girl you pine over that treats you like a total bitch, I just had to have it, no matter what the cost. Within the next week I ate the DQPC at least 3 times, maybe more. Along with numerous visits to Taco Bell and my personal favorite for taste alone, Burger King, I was beginning to feel a noticable difference in my midsection. Somehow this educational film had sucker punched where it hurts the most, knocking the wind out of what was once a six pack (speaking of six packs, I can't imagine those help the old gut much either).

Well, here are the cold hard facts for my own personal clinical trial. About 2 months ago I was amazed to see that my weight had dropped to a level it had not been since about sophomore year - I weighed a paltry 172. I wasn't exactly sure what caused this weight loss, but my best guess was that the constant walking and standing I do at work have a little to contribute, that or I'm just poor enough now to not eat everything I want all the time. I weighed myself this very morning, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and gym shorts, and the scale laughed back at me when it announced I had gained 19 pounds in the past 2 months; I was 191 pounds. This isn't even the most amazing part. I weighed myself a week ago, and I was 182. Where did these 9 pounds come from in a week? I really cannot say, the dollar menu at McD's may have done me in yet again I suppose.

After this discovery I have decided to return to the physically demanding routine I once practiced when enrolled in school - basketball, lifting, or Dance Dance Revolution every day no matter what. Also, I plan to cut my eating down to 2 reasonable meals a day, no more eating till I feel sick, or midnight trips down Maple to the fast food alley so conveniently placed less than a mile away. I have to be disciplined. Nothing looks more retarded than an otherwise skinny guy with a gut big enough to carry twins.

READERS NOTICE: I plan to bring you all updates on my drunken adventures the past month or two that I have left out due to scheduling problems. Stories could include Mike's Resting Spot, a Night of V-Train's Bday, and Ferg Comes back to Town. Also, in addition to Ferg's return, let me inform you that information will soon be released regarding the newly founded Bring Ferg back to U of M fund. Hope all of you watch what you eat!