By JOHN C. COTEY, Times Staff Writer
Published October 18, 2005
FOLLOW THE PROGRESS
Weighing In, John C. Cotey's column about his effort to lose weight, appears Tuesdays in Floridian. His starting weight on July 1 was 250 pounds. To read previous columns and his Web log, The Skinny, please go to www.sptimes.com/skinny
WEIGHING IN: 224
So, now that you're failing in your plan for weight loss and a healthy life, where're you going to go?
Why, Disney World, of course!
On a list of bad ideas for someone trying to lose weight and keep his sanity, I'd have to place last week's vacation right in between wearing clothes made of Oreo cookies and bathing in hot fudge.
Let me just rest a moment on that thought.
Mmmm.
Okay, where was I?
Ah yes, Disney, or Orlando, as we had big plans to do the whole amusement park thing.
It wasn't the best timing. My weight had been slowly rising, and now I was heading into the teeth of good living. Frustrated and ready to settle for a 20-pound weight loss, I was hardly into packing fruits and nuts while my brother, sister, nephew, wife and kids all gorged on ice cream, soda and fried treats.
There would be restaurants and outlet malls and food carts to tempt me, and I had little confidence that a cooler of grapes and apples would sustain me.
Especially since we forgot the cooler at home.
And the grapes.
But a funny thing happened at 227 pounds, on my way to 230: the kids.
Day 1, 5-month-old Khoi lasted two hours, leaving us to spend the rest of the day in our kitchenette-equipped room eating beans and rice, and swimming afterward.
Day 2, Khoi lasted 2.5 hours (progress!), and this time his heat-induced meltdown gave me the workout of a lifetime: a dead sprint from the It's a Small World ride (an hour wait, by the way) to the nearest air-conditioned gift shop. When the cool air failed to quell his screams, another sprint (term NOT used loosely) got me to the front of the park.
Then it was up a hill to the monorail, followed by some steady pacing in the monorail, followed by more running to Goofy, row 54.
Nerves: frayed. Stomach: in knots. Appetite: gone.
Thank goodness, because at dinner my nephews debated whether to get a full rack of ribs or the Monte Cristo, a long, detailed debate that left me considering the same thing.
I settled for chicken and broccoli.
Day 3 was perfect. Except for my snacking. A few jelly beans. Some Teddy Grahams. Darn kids. How dare they be good?
Day 4, an hour wait before dinner sent Khoi and brother Jonathon into fits of restlessness. Our $15 salads came amid some uncommonly bad behavior.
"Can I get you anything else?" the waiter asked.
"Yes," I replied. "A Styrofoam box and our check. Pronto!"
By the time we arrived back at the room, my appetite was gone.
I love my kids.
Days 5 and 6 go swimmingly, and we discover now that the food choices in the park aren't so bad. Salads and sandwiches were available, and Jonathon's sugar-free Jell-O and grapes were a nice treat for Daddy.
At SeaWorld, more salads and sandwiches, even some fresh watermelon. Jonathon's raisins were a nice treat for Daddy.
Day 7, we returned home.
Without my scale all week, I had no idea what I weighed. But I was concerned. It had been a physical, active week, with lots of walking and sweating and carrying. Was that enough to offset a few poor choices?
I couldn't get into the house fast enough.
Wow: 224.
I laughed. I wept. I flexed in front of the mirror. (Okay, shouldn't have done that.)
