Bah, Hum Bug! or, We Ain't Nothin' But Mammals, or, Bryce is 1/16th Somali

I never posted my New Year’s Resolutions. Sorry. While this post is about my diet, and it did start around the start of the year, this is not a resolution post. This is a “Bryce is pissed off” post.

I have long held the claim that the weight many people gain around the winter time holidays is normal and (some of you may need to close your eyes for this part) part of Evolution’s way of helping mammals humans live more comfortably in the cold of the winter. (I've even suggested that the clustering of these holidays with their traditions may be resultant). A few extra pounds should come on in the late Fall and come off in the early Spring. I think that seems entirely reasonable, though I never did take a class in anthropology, so I don’t know.

So why the hell did I lose 7 pounds over Christmas break?

Let me back up and give you a brief overview of my past medical history as it relates to my weight. When I moved back into my parents’ after graduating from college, I rediscovered how my dear mother kept the house stocked with several different flavors of ice-cream. This was presumably for my friends, but as I am old and they are all married, it was really just for me, but I don’t know.

However, I also got pretty sick over that summer, had my tonsils out, and the weight stayed level. Gain equals loss. Net change of zero pounds.

I moved to Ohio and lost about 3 pounds. I didn’t have buckets of ice-cream laying around anymore. This weight loss seemed reasonable and acceptable to me. I ran a little more. Over the next 12 months I lost one pound. This Fall I lost another two. Sum: loss 6 lbs.

Then comes Christmas 2007, and I notice I have to cinch all my belts down to the smallest loop. I can’t even wear my black belt anymore; if I forget a belt, my otherwise perfectly-fitting jeans literally fall of my hips. My cheeks became hollowed. Claudia notes, “Bryce, you look really thin.” Maybe she meant it to be a complement. I don’t know.

When I came home after break, I step on the scale. Then I decide that I need to put pictures of starving kids in Africa on the fridge door so that I remember to eat. I’d lost another 7 pounds. That put me at a BMI of 19.9; underweight is 18.5. W. T. F.?

To combat this, my roommate and I have thought about having a contest, like “The Biggest Loser” on opposite day. Maybe it’ll work. I don’t know.

To that end, do any of you nameless legion have suggestions as to effective weight-gaining diets? Do you know how to put on weight? Because obviously, I don’t know.

Check your own BMI here.

By way of an update, I've put back on three or four, I think. I've been eating like a horse. And for those of you not familiar, I'm actually 1/16th Samoan. Yeah, I know. The apple fell far from that tree. Ha ha ha. Real funny.

Stalker's Paradise, or, I was wrong, or, Steve is a creep

Some things are just creepy. I realize I should not admit that; that I, a tall, young unmarried male, should not admit to qualms of any sort. Weakness will not attract anything but weakness; blah blah blah. Let me share a few random little stories from my life— that may or may not be connected—and then tell me whether or not I should admit to being creeped out. But really, tell me.

RANDOM STORY #1
My aunt is quite frightened about my sister’s blog and scary people doing all sorts of horrible things to her because she says her husbands name, the city they live in, and posts pictures of her family there. After consulting with me, my sister decided she didn’t need to worry about it.

RANDOM STORY #2
I added a counter to my blog. I am obviously not the most popular writer, which should come as no surprise. If you know me, you know that my attempts at humor are frail, that my intellect is weak, and that my opinions are many but without conviction, eloquence, or firmness and hence are rarely conveyed well, let alone make lasting impressions on anyone. However, one of the interesting things about this counter is that it lets me see where my hits are coming from, both physical location and referring web-site, and where they go afterwards. (Before you get too worried, I can’t tell who you are beyond what city your internet provider is in or anything beyond where you were immediately before or after my website, and that only if you clicked on a link). Now, there are some interesting trends that have appeared.

I have had hits from Portugal, Norway, Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, China, India, and all over the States, with the majority in the OH and the UT. I have had referrals from the couple of LDS blogs I comment on, from a couple friends who linked to my blog on their own, and a bunch from Facebook. But then there are the more random hits. They range from blogs about recipes to one that was suspiciously like NAMBLA, (!) (!!) (!!!) . I have often wondered, “Where the heck are these people coming from?”

RANDOM STORY #3
Now, I have had comments here from about three people. My sister, Ameree, and a couple friends. I have recently read a few people talking about the blogstalking phenomenon (like the second half of this entry). This does not necessarily surprise me: I read many more articles than I comment on. I can’t speak for other’s experiences, but comments are not the only way people give me feedback about what I write. Some people have chosen to email me directly Some have even talked to me in person about it. Imagine that.

RANDOM STORY #4
Steve is that guy in my class that owes me twenty bucks. (Boise State owned Oklahoma in the 2007 Fiesta Bowl; check ESPN. Then ask the people who were in the room when we made that bet. There were plenty of them, but for some reason there isn't an extra twenty in my wallet.) I was shooting the bull with Steve yesterday about women. He told of how he was “bored as shit” (sorry Mom, his words) over Christmas and read my blog (What other reason is there, anyway?). He brought up my two call rule that I wrote about previously, and said he identified with what I’d written, and wrote a comment. Evidently it was a little too “homoerotic” for him which isn't really saying much and then deleted it without posting. Which brings me to how these four random stories converge.

I was wrong, dear Auntie. There are plenty of creepy people Steve’s out there who can find and will read stuff that is as boring as this. Maybe we should be worried. But not about Steve-- he's got tuberculosis, so anyone should be able to outrun him.

You guessed it. Steve. Friday night. TB and all.

Overheard: Woman sending clear signal to poor sap on date

"I can't believe she made out with you! That makes me want to vomit."

Unusual, I know, but this short-story (on pg 152) is one of the funniest things I've read in a quite some time. A warning to my two non-familial readers: it is completely laced with Mormon cultural references. It should still make sense, though. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

This article (about Mormonism relative to politics) was very impressive - well-researched and really hits the nail on the head regarding the current issues.

Experience pays off!

25

Looks like my practice rounds against three older kids during break really paid off. I bet Silva, Gracie, or Liddel couldn't do any better. What about you?

Favorite Vacation Moment, or, Christmas Presents, or, Giving Ty A Bloody Nose.

Without a doubt my favorite moment of the trip to Utah for Christmas was when I gave Ty (7) a bloody nose. It was at the end of a family Christmas party. Some of the kids were having a difficult time, being presented with only one gift. Thomas (3) went from a glee-filled laugh as he sat atop a horse to a painful wail of, “I need another present!” It had already been a long party, and the time was growing late. However, I am a jealous uncle, and demanded that pictures must be taken. I gathered six of my eight nieces and nephews around me. I had to twist arms, pin some down, pinch, pull, and physically coerce a few, but the pictures were taken. Some even smiled. Afterwards, we proceeded to have a WWF-style Royal Rumble. I was wrestling with Ian (9), Ty (7), Claire (6) and Thomas (3), who obviously formed one team. Eliza (2) surprisingly sat out. I was impressed with Clairesey, she usually stays out of the fray with things like that, and Ian/Ty were so good at knowing how to alter their tactics when wrestling Claire or Tom as compared to wrestling me.

At one point, I had one of the boys pinned underneath me. As I, on hand and knees, kept torturing him, Claire climbed on top of my back, grabbed my gray-and-blue rugby by the back of the collar, and started jerking as if I was a mule with the bit firmly in my teeth and she was going to show me who the boss was. She certainly got my attention. At another point, Ian was pinned under me and hitting me repeatedly in the head with a large metal top (!) as I was knuckling his sternum, at the same time Ty kept jumping on my back. The last time I pulled Ty off me he landed on a marble with his hip blade. That hurt a lot, I suppose. As he started crying, I felt the sudden need to coddle him. So I pinned him down and told him he had ten seconds to breathe and get ready. I started counting slowly. It was just so fantastic to see him start laughing, as that of course signaled, “Game on!” It was then that I noticed a rim of blood inside his right nostril. I dismissed it, thinking it was probably old or not too bad as it was not gushing out, but rather staying quietly inside his nose, and we had not seen blood smeared anywhere. Of course, as I picked him up and spun him for the upcoming body-slam, blood poured all over dear Mother’s light tan carpet (“Game Off!”), and I got to enjoy the next thirty minutes with ammonia, scrubbing her carpet. She will never even know.

You could ask him, but I bet Ty liked my present better than Grandma and Grandpa’s.



This is what set it all off.