Only fat chicks order a burger and Diet soda. Seriously.
Well I'm kinda on a diet. My wife is on one. So you know what that means there is to eat in the house.
She's lost over 25 lbs, I've lost 15. And counting.
Maybe I'll be below the Magic BMI value not to be sucked into the mass money-making CPAP vortex by my next FAA medical... Although I don't remember what that number is, from previous posts on the topic.
Actually the goal is to get the CG rearward on the stuff I usually fly and make sure I'm under the skinny European weight limits in the glass gliders with a parachute on, by the time I'm working on the glider ratings, later this year.
Plus trying not to look too much like Eric Cartman with a buzz cut. That's a plus, too.
Downsides: Pants don't fit and I'm having to pull the belts so tight it's ridiculous, but not buying new pants until I'm further along this road. Even if I do wear $9.95 Walmart Chinese slave labor jeans. (That part probably should have gone in Rich's cheapskate thread. I go out of my way to check if they have my size at Walmart in the cheap jeans.)
Anyway, onward and downward... Fat chick dinners it is! I don't care. Heh.
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