The Colonel T Show

First, a special thanks to everyone who sent a card or letter wishing me a speedy recovery. I’m happy to report my cold has all but disappeared, and I’m running at a solid 95% efficiency. Not coincidentally, my blood composition is 95% Afrin.

I started feeling better Sunday morning, and that’s when dug through my closet for the three pairs of pants I’ll be using as benchmarks for my PantsQuest! weight loss program. I intended to photograph and write up some charming recollections about each pair, and post it all last night.

I found the green flat front Dockers I haven’t been able to wear for a month.

I found the green corduroys I haven’t been able to wear for a year.

But the 34-inch-waist khakis that I haven’t been able to wear for two years? I couldn’t find them. They’re gone.

My khaki pants are gone.

These khakis are (were?) the last pants I needed to fit into to complete PantsQuest! Around the office, we’ve been referring to them as my “Endgame Pants.” I tore apart the bedroom closet. I rummaged through the dirty clothes bins in the basement. In a pants-fueled rage I smashed my dresser to pieces. Unless I’ve missed something, and I can’t imagine what or where that would be, the pants are gone, and PantsQuest! is in crisis.

Is it a coincidence that we just donated 9 trash bags full of clothing to Goodwill? I fear a terrible accident has put my khaki pants in the hands of…GASP! A charity! Let me tell you something: there is not a needy man, woman, or child alive who needs those pants more than I do. I pray one of the many Goodwill employees who read this blog will rally his colleagues and Find! My! Pants!

Meanwhile we’re holding an emergency session of the PantsQuest! Committee tonight at 7:00PM CST to discuss alternatives. C-SPAN is covering it, so please tune in and support the cause. I suspect the result will be a nationwide call to arms…an “Amber Alert” for pants…I guess that would be a “Khaki Alert”. Stay tuned to this blog for all the latest updates, and God bless us all. We need that blessing now more than ever.

I’ve been smacked down by a wicked cold. I’m writing this from bed, which is in my bedroom, where a television is playing Regis and Kelly. Regis has had a facelift, I think. He looks vaguely Latino, and is calling himself Mark. Poor Regis.

Anyway, when I’m back on my feet we’ll continue PantsQuest! and talk about our upcoming move. Meantime, I’m off to squeeze some Afrin into my nose. Mmmm. Tasty.

I was weighed at work yesterday. 227 pounds. I was worried I’d crossed the 300 pound barrier, so color me relieved.

227 pounds isn’t too bad for a nearly 6′ 5″ slab of man. My driver’s license says I’m 215 pounds, and it was issued in January 2004. I feel about 12 pounds heavier, so that tracks.

Let’s back up a minute. Why was I weighed at work? That’s a question you really should be asking yourself.

Basically, the Chicago office is participating in a weight-loss competition. Employees pay a $20 entrance fee and are randomly assigned to a team of four. The team that loses the most weight between now and Memorial Day wins all the collected money. Weight loss is measured by a percentage of total weight, as opposed to total pounds lost.

With the Colonel T Show community already engaged in heated physical fitness debate, the timing on all this is too coincidental to ignore. I signed up and weighed in. Very exciting. (Also, the firm will almost certainly have a “wrap party” with free booze and I certainly don’t want to miss that.)

What my randomly assigned teammates don’t know…and will never know…is that I don’t really care about “the percentage of weight” I lose, nor do I really care about winning the money (although I could certainly use the money). No, I’m doing all of this…for the pants!

I own three pairs of pants that I love more than any other pants I own. I cherish them. My passion for them blossoms more each day…like an, um, ever-blossoming flower. But I’ve grown too large for them, and it makes me weep.

By Memorial Day, I will able to wear these pants again.

It is, indeed, a Quest for Pants. A Pants Quest.

PantsQuest!

Tomorrow, in Part Two, we’ll meet those Pants, and talk in a bit more detail about how I plan to get into them.

For those of you who watched the new episode of Battlestar Galactica last night:

Did that really happen? Like…really?

Obviously my blog has exploded in popularity: I’m receiving upwards of 100 spam comments a day! While I was manually deleting them for a while, earlier this week I turned up the Movable Type “Junk Filtering” to maximum overdrive, which had the unintended effect of junking EVERY comment, including your legitimate ones.

I believe I’ve restored (and replied to) all of your comments. Also, anyone who’s ever posted a comment is now “Trusted,” meaning your comments should once again appear automatically. No promises that it’s working 100%, but I’ll be watching it closely for the next couple days and hopefully I’ll get the kinks worked out.

Meanwhile, keep on commenting. And while you’re at it, keep on keepin’ on. I ooze hipness.

Not 30 minutes after I posted that epic brain dump, I received the following in my email inbox:

Colonel-

About time you posted. Listen, about you getting fat. Do you think that might be because of all the television and video games? It’s call OUTSIDE. Check it out, man.

Good to have you back though dude.

Carl

Thanks Carl. I have no idea who you are, but I appreciate the note. Let me expand on the topic a bit, in the same way my belly is expanding as I type this! (Ha! Punny!)

In short, I don’t blame television and video games for anything. The reality is that I watch five television shows on a weekly basis. In addition to the three I mentioned in the last post, I also watch Smallville (though I’m four episodes behind) and Boston “Denny Crane” Legal. That’s five hours of television a week (actually much less as I burn through the commercials thanks to the magic of DVR). That’s barely a blip on the radar.

And video games? I’ve barely the time. For one, I don’t play when the babies are awake. For two, we only have one decent television on which to play, so I have to wait for Elizabeth to fall asleep to get on the Wii, and I rarely can stay awake long enough to do that. Indeed, at the rate I’m working through Zelda, it will be 2009 before I finish it. I’d love to play 12 hours a day, but it ain’t going to happen. Fact of adulthood.

So where did all this pudge come from? I think it’s a combination of baby-related fatigue, sitting all day at work, freezing cold weather, a six-hour drive to the dojo, and of course, that Classic Colonel T Procrastination Power. And Carl, I’d love to go outside, but I live in Chicago, where it’s been freezing cold for about eight months running. When I’m home, I’m watching babies, and you can’t take babies out into the freezing cold, so there you have it.

In truth, these are vanity pounds more than anything else. Speaking of vanity, let’s do a photo comparison. Here is, in my opinion, the single greatest photo of me ever taken. It was shot 11 years ago during my senior year of college. It was posted to “Hot or Not.com” where it received a 9.4 out of 10 average rating. That, for those scoring at home, is “Hot,” not “Not.”

(I should really re-scan that…it’s a low-resolution GIF.)

Here is a modern recreation of that classic photo…taken just minutes ago:

(Let the vigorous hair debate begin!)

Tomorrow, I will reveal my plan for dealing with this gross obesity. Here’s a hint: the title of the plan contains the words “Pants” and “Quest.” See you then!