October 15, 2010. Las Vegas. Meeting online friends in real life for the first time. 20 years old. Yes, I totally stayed away from alcoholic beverages. It was a phenomenally fun time, but also a time of enormous (no pun intended) self reflection.
Facebook photo after tagged photo, things were obvious: I was a fat ass, and physically miserable. Just a couple months prior, my doctor told me I was a walking death wish, and if I didn't make a change, I'd be lucky to make it to 40.
I knew something needed to happen. I knew my bad eating habits needed to change. I knew I needed to make. Shit. Happen. However, like most people, I had no clue where to even begin.
For years, I'd followed Tim Ferriss in the business community. He's the bestselling author of The 4-Hour Workweek, by far one of the most popular business books of our generation. It just so happened that on December 14, 2010, his new book was coming out...
I snatched it up the second it hit the shelves, and quickly learned about the "Slow Carb" diet. To make a long story short, it's basically a variation of a low-carb diet. Each meal consists of a protein (3 eggs for breakfast, chicken breast for lunch, etc.), beans, and vegetables. No grains, dairy, white carbohydrates or fruit, though over the years I've reintroduced some fruit into my life.
If you're still hungry, just eat more of the approved foods. No need to count calories. To help minimize you falling off, you get one day each week to pig out and eat all the shit you've been daydreaming about!
I began documenting my journey daily on a site I created called Lose A Skinny Chick. It's no longer around. Did I mention I weighed 316 pounds? Progress was very slow the first couple months, and there were many times I thought about giving up.
I'm really fucking glad I didn't.
As my body started to get into this new ritual, more and more weight started to come off. But just as great, I felt amazing. I had more energy than ever before, and could blast through an entire day without having to down loads of caffeine.
Five years later, I'm down 90 pounds. So like a really skinny chick. I still feel great, live in one of the greatest places on the planet, and have an amazing, beautiful girlfriend.
I might still not have a beach bod. I might still not be ripped and toned. I might still not have a good tan (thanks, genetics). But, I'm pretty God damn happy knowing there's still work to be done.
Whatever you want out of your life, you can't rely off of someone else to get it for you. You have to step up, and put in hard work even on the days you'd rather just drop over dead. It really does get better. There's just a lot of shit on the way there.
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