My Journey

Friday, July 10, 2009

Blubber Belt Blankets the South . . .

Great read on obesity and the way it beats the crap out of the south and specifically Mississippi. For what it is worth, my proud, Southern people . . . I love your food, your culture and your patience with living in the deep, deep south.

Labels: Obesity News

Posted by Sean C. Amore @ 9:23 AM 0 comments

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

My Friend Al . . .

Picture it! The Eastern Market/Potomac Avenue "section" of Southeast, Washington, DC. 1999 - 2004.

An apartment where "men" live. I mean REAL men. The kind of man with girlfriends who lived in separate (and not always neighboring) states lived. The kind that, largely, lived paycheck to paycheck (if not hand out to hand out). The kind that didn't care what time the Metro stopped running because a cab would pick you up in front of any bar in town at any time you wanted them to. The kind of men that welcomed friends to come and crash on the couch - but had friends that new better than to actually SLEEP on that couch. The kind of apartment that the men ONLY moved out of to move in with their betrothed. And that was only because they wouldn't move in with US and the other men. The kid of man with arthritic thumbs from the time spent playing PS2. The kind of men with no food in the cupboards, only beer, wine and liquor in the fridge and three plates - only one of which was "clean" at any given time. We were men. Men that ate whatever was easy, delicious and minimally nutritious food. We were the kind of men that had Al on speed dial.

"Who is Al?" you foolishly ask. Well - you've OBVIOUSLY never gotten the invite to crash on our couch so let me go ahead and tell you about Al - our Executive Chef for all those years.

Al is the namesake for Al's Gourmet Pizza. And let me tell you - that is not just some sort of slapped together name that didn't walk the talk. No, no. Al was GOURMET all the way. And he, and his crew, delivered in 30 minutes or less and they knew our number (and our order) when we showed up on their caller ID.

We ordered from Al's at LEAST four nights a week and sometimes we would order from him more than once per evening (I remember one particular night when we ate 300 wings, two pizzas, four subs and some mozzarella sticks . . . spread out over five hours and six separate orders).

The TYPICAL dinner order was a SIXTEEN INCH sub for everyone who happened to be at the apartment when we picked up the phone (you could TRY to order the eight (note the lower cases there vs. upper for the SIXTEEN) but you would be chided and overruled). And we're not talking turkey breast with reduced fat mayo and fresh veggies. Nah. Screw that. We're talking cheeseburger or chicken patty or tuna with extra mayo or Meat Of Your Choice parmesan. Fish Filet (when we had Catholics over during Lenten Fridays ONLY).

The TYPICAL snack/Tiger Woods Golf order was at least 100 wings with a towel underneath the tray to protect the ottoman.

I can't even BEGIN to imagine how many thousands of calories Al provided me with on any given week - much less over the life time of him being my Executive Chef. Needless to say it was a love affair that my roommates and friends handled better than I did or could. They could actually put the second eight inch sub (the sixteen-incher was actually two, separate, eight inch subs) away for later. They could put down their paper towel before the last wing was gone. They could leave a slice of pizza for someone else to eat for breakfast (if the bugs and mice didn't get to it first).

I never went to Al's. Never wanted to. I never wanted to meet the man or thank him - face to face - for all the delicious dinners and drunken fulfillment. Okay - to be honest - I never wanted to leave my couch to go further than the front door to get my Al's. Vinu went TO Al's once though. Once. He said it was utterly anti-climatic and a bit of a turn off. Turns out Al is NOT at the stove. He's not tossing pizza crust in the air and ladeling mayo on the subs himself. He's not frying the fish filet and he's not putting the speciality in his specialty pizzas.

Nope. Turns out that Al's is actually a sad little storefront without much charm or sitting space and with a television that is set to the soccer channel and turned up way too loud (here I just assumed it was an actual mob of excited fans chanting for the pizza in the background when I called).

Turns out that Al's is not worth the mystique I put on him or the romance with which I discuss the food he sold me to this day. I don't care though. You were a good friend, Al. Thanks for that! Thanks for everything!

Labels: Eating, Food, Personal, Stories

Posted by Sean C. Amore @ 12:42 PM 1 comments

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Gastric Band Going Direct-To-Consumers . . .

I just read this article (thanks to a colleague) in a trade publication that I hold near and dear (there is a killer AdAge podcast too, if you care) and . . . well . . . here comes the soap box.

I'm ALL about empowerment in the fight against obesity. I am. Tell us to eat less. Tell us to move. Reward us for our efforts. Chide us for our failures. Point out every fad diet, work out trend, get-skinny-quick scheme and self-adjusting, hidden elastic waist banded pant you can. I love it. I love it all and I consume it all with the ferocity I once saved only for a box of my beloved Oatmeal Creme Pies.

I am all for education and shared resources and experiences and demystifying the process of bariatric surgery but - come on people - do we REALLY need to market lap bands and/or gastric bypass surgery directly to people? On YouTube? Really?

We can't leave DOCTORS in the middle on this? How about the EMMI program (an educational web site designed for engaged patients and surgical candidates) or a microsite that talks about options in a less "commercial" way. I get the idea of DOCTORS using the Internet as a viable, cost effective way to further education.

And - let me be clear (before someone defends this site or calls me a hypocrite or whatever) I am not just complaining about this campaign on YouTube or that the product is also advertised on television. This is not about Realize, Ethicon or its parent company Johnson & Johnson. No disrespect intended to the company that - speaking of band(s) AIDS, that is, has covered more cuts, scrapes and bruises on my body than I even care to quantify.

I'm MORE concerned about this glut of advertising we're getting from the so-called "pharma" industry for all these products, services and offerings and how you should ask your doctor if X is right for you.

Half of the ads (I swear to God) don't even really tell you what X is . . . much less what it might do for you - if it is right for you. And I get that the ads have to devote their time to disclaimers about nose bleeds, indigestion, permanent eye discoloration, night sweats, fits of violence and general annoyance following the use of the product advertised but . . . here is a solution - STOP advertising this stuff directly to consumers. Stop putting people holding hands while laying in neighboring bathtubs on top of a cliff watching a sunset to tell me Wifey and I can still chose the "right moment" even after Little Sean (and I do mean LITTLE (smile)) fails me. And stop implying the right moment might be in neighboring bathtubs on a cliff watching a sunset anyway. I get that you have regulations governing how you can influence, er MARKET to doctors and I get that you also have a million protectors limiting how you can market to consumers and other audiences as well.

We are living in the year 2009 though, people. Figure out how to market TOWARDS your targets without making people think your product is some "one size fits all" commodity or solution. The testimonial web site is a good first step. It is. Two thumbs up there. It is still too much though. The wide-open Internet, especially a portal like YouTube, is not the right place to "sell" lap band. There is too much information, too many opinions, too much conflicting information, too much potential to confuse and inundate OR to sell this lifestyle of ours off as a silver bullet.

Gastric Bypass nor its red-headed step cousin (no disrespect to those that opt for it) the Lap Band procedure are NOT for everyone. They are not. The statistics show that. The human experience shows that. The weight gain after the procedures shows that. The mortality rates from complications the surgery puts on existing/other conditions shows that. This blog and my grammatical errors talk about that. Any number of resources can tell you how "dangerous" and "deadly" gastric bypass is. I read it all. I worried about it all. And then I sat down with DOCTORS who explained it all to me and helped me understand what the procedure might mean for me and what my personal odds and chances and risks were.

Let a DOCTOR (and God love the good men and women that devote their lives to trying to get the fattening, depressed, smoking, drinking, over eating, over stressed, inactive and sexually overextended LOT of us feeling "better" if ONLY for a few days at a time) decide if these procedures are right for "us" or at least trust that any good, self-aware and self-loathing fatty (like myself) is already at least aware of if not considering bariatric surgery BEFORE they see your TV commercial, YouTube video or other DTC effort for advertising.

I don't mean to bite the hand that feeds me (strategic, smart communications and marketing is vital to our economy (just ask me and my colleagues)) but . . . come on . . . let's leave the Internet to porn and other things it was really made for.

Labels: Ethicon, Gastric Bypass, Realize, Soap Box

Posted by Sean C. Amore @ 6:12 AM 1 comments

Monday, July 6, 2009

Workout Checklist . . .

I'm still working out like a "mad man" (and by "mad man" I mean some one that works out about five times a week for about 45 mintues at a time with the intention of moderate weight loss, muscle development and an improved overall outlook on life). I have to say - I'm really, really enjoying it.

I don't see any real impact on my body. My clothes don't fit any differently. My lungs don't feel like they have a larger balloonability. My arms are not confused as "guns" when I show them off at the pool. My tattoo doesn't look any cooler (I kid - I would never get a tattoo, the pain would be far too much for me to possibly sit through),

I FEEL better though. That is a given though, I suppose (these lunatic freaks all around me have been telling me for 33 years now that exercise feels good and makes you feel good (Wuh-tever)). I've noticed though that the undiagnosed-but-rampant-none-the-less "OCD" that runs so much of my life has crept its way in to my exercies routine. Here, for your point-and-laugh pleasure, is my pre- and post-workout checklist.

There is a certain madness you can engage in when you work out at home, in the privacy of your basement that you just don't get at the local park or the gym or your nearest Curves (apparently my "kind" aren't welcome there anyway (sorry, ladies)).

I digress . . .

PRE-WORKOUT CHECKLIST -
1 - Get my sweet, sweet workout gear (picture something spandex/lycra based on the bottom with a tight fighting, graphically printed t-shirt that says something like "Just Do It" up top, ladies - then stop laughing and replace that image with loose fighthing jersey knit cotton shorts and an oversized, solid colored t-shirt, with pocket up high) on and head to the basement. Take two towels (one for sweat, one to cover the display on the treadmill) with me. Grab a magazine on the way down (if you're NOT a subscriber to Cat Fancy ask yourself why you are NOT capable of giving and receiving love and then subscribe when you realize you ARE capable). Stretch it alllll out (I'm talkin' groin too here, ladies).
2 - Strap on my sweet, sweet running shoes. Check another two miles off my 500 Mile 'til I Replace the Kicks Chart (because once I check them off I HAVE to run them).
3 - Listen to my warm up song while cueing up something to watch on television.
4 - Say a quick prayer that my heart, mind and body will either a) survive the work out to follow or allow me the power to crawl to the phone across the room so I can call for Joy and/or 911 help before I black out. Remind God that I don't waste his time with the little stuff so he can know I'm very serious about this request (you can take 300 pounds off the boy but you can't take the mortal fear of a massive heart attack, stroke or other physical collapse off the mind of that boy).
5 - Hop on the treadmill and get the walking started (I do this while listening to MGMT and talking with the Powers That Be).
6 - Put my Nickelodeon water bottle with 20 carefully poured ounces of water (with flavor packet - I'm digging the Kroger brand, sugar free, faux-Gatorade with Lemon-Lime flavoring lately) on the window sill next ot the treadmill. Test to make sure I can reach it without actually turning my body more than 45 degrees from the front of the treamill (the real trouble comes at around 50 degrees, stumbling sets in at around 60, catastrophe surely lurks in the low 70s).
7 - Finish my song. Wrap iPod headphones around iPod. Toss iPod on the loveseat. Curse when it bounces back off. Stare at it - there on the floor - for the next 40 minutes. Ruing the day they (those bastards) invented cushions.
8 - Hit play on whatever TV I have cued up. Kick up the speed, the incline and the positive energy.
9 - Lay towel, specifically and strategically, over the display of the treadmill. Begin sweating within seconds (I'm a dog and the towel is Pavlov).

POST-WORKOUT CHECKLIST -
1 - Wipe massive amounts of sweat from brow, equipment and walls, floor, ceiling and upholestry surrounding my work out area
2 - Take off running shoes and place back on trophy shelf (that might someday house troph(y/ies) after kissing the inner soles of each and thanking them for giving this angel some wings
3 - Wring out socks. Throw against wall. Know they will still be stuck there, ready for next workout.
4 - Sit on loveseat in basement. Exhale deeply. Loudly mutter something (and to lonesome self) that will likely contain the Lord's name (taken in the wrong spirit) at least twice and one or two four letter words -none of which would make my mother or the aforementioned Lord proud or happy.
5 - Pant. Two to three minutes. Pausing only for repeat of step four.
6 - Stand. Turn of crappy summer television show or DVRed episode of the great television that TNT saves for the summer (that imp Kyra Sedgwick on The Closer tickles me pink)
7 - Turn off the lights. Grab my empty water bottle. Head up the stairs to the real world that awaits me.
8 - Stop in the kitchen. Have a teaspoon of peanut butter on my way upstairs to the wife, daughter and dog that likely await me (no one sleeps around here)
9 - Take off my work out clothes. Throw them in the laundry. Head to the bathroom and get ready for bed.
10 - Sleep like a baby (a normal, sleep loving baby not MY particular baby).

If you ARE a medical professional (Michele, Laura, Joe, Chris, Melissa, etc.) please feel free to send help and/or narcotics . . . I really want to get through the pain to get my kick-butt tattoo of the Little Debbie logo on the back of my calf (or, uh, something like that).

Labels: Exercise, Music, Personal

Posted by Sean C. Amore @ 10:04 PM 0 comments

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Blowin' Stuff Up in the 'Burbs . . .

I wanted to post a few pictures from our great July 4th celebration in the "burbs."

My NORMAL (and beloved) fireworks friend, my brother-in-law DJ was out of town with his lovely wife and daughter enjoying some vacation time in Kansas City so I assumed we would have an evening without too many explosions and then, thankfully, the call came and we got invited to Park City for some fun in the waning sun with the Timmermeyer side of the family.

They aren't DJ but they sure are fun! We arrived to see this spread of pyrotechnics (fret not the pile grew before it started to shrink) . . .

and the adorable (and brave/slightly crazy) AJ was our fire guide for the evening. (Yes. He's just a young child and his shirt says "Ladies Man" (I'm telling you - the kid was wise and bold beyond his years)). Ava was immediately smitten with AJ (as she seems to be of all boys that are least one year older than her and who are bold, brave, etc.) and followed him around like a puppy dog for a majority of the evening. He was a generous crush. He even gave Ava the punk to light things here and there (supervised by adults, clearly).

Don't believe me that it gets crazy out in the 'burbs? Tell that to the burn in Uncle Bill's shirt that was caused by an arrant firework . . . from the NEIGHBOR'S house. Yeahhhhhhh - we blew the whole block up!

Here is the only successful (of about three dozen attempts) shot I have of one of our aerial blasts going off. The evening was ended with the "Not in My Yard" fun pack that consisted of ground sparks, pops, buzzes and 15 aerial cannon blasts.

Thanks for the invite and the great time, Hibbs/Timmermeyer family. We do love living near family and you are very special part of why that is true. We really enjoyed being with family and having some fun in to the late night (10:30 for us is a LATE night) and might just try to convince DJ and Lexy to let us move our normal party over to your place for 2010. The two Js (AJ and DJ) will make it a legendary night for sure!

Labels: Family, Holidays, Pictures, Video

Posted by Sean C. Amore @ 7:12 AM 0 comments

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Happy July 4th . . .

Happy Birthday, America!

Labels: Holidays, Muppets, Video

Posted by Sean C. Amore @ 6:42 AM 0 comments

Monday, June 29, 2009

Sometimes I Miss My Parents . . .

Sometimes I miss my parents a great deal and sometimes I miss them in nearly immeasurable ways.

I don't mean to sound dramatic about it but it is hard for me to go four or five months at a time without seeing my parents and a year or more without seeing my brothers.

I know we made the decision to move to Kansas and so I should not complain but somedays . . . when I'm feeling sad about whatever . . . I just want my mommy and my daddy. I'm 33. And - yes - I still call them "mommy" and "daddy" when I am needy.

I love and miss you guys and can't wait to see you this fall! Sorry our July visit didn't work out!

Labels: Family, Music, Parents

Posted by Sean C. Amore @ 7:44 PM 0 comments

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Early Dieting Fads, Explained . . .

I just finished listening to one of my favorite podcasts (I listen to about 15 of them in any given week so it is not too exclusive of a list, frankly) - the GQ Podcast and this "episode" is all about a new book written about this guy, Bernarr McFadden, who was born Bernard McFadden but changed it to Bernarr because it sounded more dynamic and later went on to call himself Mr. America.

Mr. America was quite the character, clearly. In his life McFadden . . .

- was America's original health guru (he cured his own tuberculosis)

- founded America's first health magazine (Physical Culture)

- opened the first national chain of health food stores (eat THIS, Whole Foods) with Teddy Roosevelt (yes, THE Teddy Roosevelt)

- he put the US Army on a "raw foods" diet

- founded the "body building" competition movement

- established a health/nudism "utopia" in New Jersey

- had his wife followed by a private investigator for almost their entire marriage

- founded a gossip newspaper that gave rise to future Mayor LaGuardia

- declared war on the "medicine monopoly" and the "barbaric" practices of mainstream medicine (like shots and surgery)

- trained 40 of Mussolini's (yes, THE Mussolini) cadets at his wellness camp pre-WWII

- helped, as a PR guru, to overcome reports of FDR's polio and what impact it might have had on his presidency (perhaps ensuring America its greatest president (please don't even bother to dispute my subjective opinion on this one (smile)) in the process) and hired Eleanor as the editor of one of the first parenting magazines in the US

- was the father of the 60s/70s "fitness" movement

While some of his "wisdom" was clearly okay and has stood the test of time (he was sure that Americans were too fat and just needed to cut back on their eating and they would be okay) but he took it a bit far, I think.

For instance he thought that less calories could/would cure ANY ill that possibly plagued us and he would REGULARLY walk to and from work in the morning. I know you're thinking that is not that nuts but - did I mention he lived TWENTY MILES from his office? Yep. He'd walk 40 miles in one day. Sorta' nuts, right? RIGHT!

It seems like McFadden was sooooo obsessed with fitness that he couldn't really concentrate on the rest of life. The stuff that really matters. Like managing money. Like trusting and loving your wife. Like having true, honest relationships with those around you. Like not working 40 miles a day to get to and from work. Like eating your cake, sometimes, and not just hating it. Like the joys of just being lazy when the mood strikes you.

Anywho - it was an interesting podcast and my initial research in to the guy (how have I NOT heard of this guy before today?) sort of suggests that he's straight up fascinating and I will likely have to get and read this new biography of him and his life.

A few things sort of sticks with me about him and his thoughts . . .

1 - Fitness advocates are always sort of nutty.

2 - Brilliance is not far from insanity.

3 - Very little has really changed about how we (as a people) think about, value and challenge our own bodies and our nutrition and health and approach to both despite great advances in just about every other aspect of our lives.

4 - A good book makes summer heat more tolerable.

5 - I can try to be healthy and I can work on my diet and I can exercise and I can strive for great physical health but I might never really get there because I'm just not truly passionate about it at this point. And that is okay (see point 1 above (smile)).

Check out the podcast (you can listen to it without subscribing) and feel free to learn more about Mr. America (you won't regret it if your brain works like mine) and please take your fitness and health and diet seriously . . . but not too seriously (smile)!

Labels: Bernarr McFadden, Books, Diet, GQ, Health

Posted by Sean C. Amore @ 8:19 PM 0 comments

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Laughing With . . .

Regina Spektor is back!

Grey's Anatomy's musical producers are breathing a sigh of relief and so are all the "manly-men", like me, that just love a Russian pianist who sings about the randomest things in the world and makes every song somehow catchy.

I downloaded her new CD last night. It's great.

My favorite song of the moment is Laughing With.

The song - to me - sort of explains, much more eloquently than I ever could, how I feel about God and faith (not RELIGION but God and "faith") for those who don't really believe but don't have the heart to admit it and just how unfair it is to the "big guy" (if you believe God has a gender and it is a masculine one at that) that so many people only talk to or about him when they need something.

Best that we leave him (and his attention) to those that truly believe, that give him "mad ups" (what ever happened to that expression?) in good times and in bad and that need him in good times and in bad, I suppose.

I, as is well documented in this blog (and much to my parents utter dismay) try not to look at or to him for too much either way in hopes of not coming across as needy . . . I read a book one time (it was called the Old Testament - you would love it) that seems to imply he can be a bit vengeful, rathful and spitish to those that flip-flop on him and his ways (and/or worship gold bulls).

I'll have a good laugh with you anytime, God. Thanks for the great life in the meantime! And thanks for giving me and my iTunes library Regina Spektor!

Labels: Faith, iTunes, Music, Personal, Playlists

Posted by Sean C. Amore @ 12:09 PM 0 comments

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

500 Posts Later . . .

Holy crap!

I was just cleaning out my blog drafts folder (does any one really care, on June 23, 2009 what was on my mind on September 19, 2008 (yeah . . . me neither)) and I realized that I have posted to this blog 500 times. Five, HUNDRED, times. 5-0-0. D (for you Romans amongst us). 500 posts in 1 year, 10 months and 22 days . . . 692 days . . . 16,600 hours.

That's a lot of time spent at this keyboard talking about my dreams, goals, frustrations, sworn enemies, taste in music, movie and TV selections, childhood and adult memories, obesity thoughts, self loathings and my beautiful wife and daughter (not always in that order).

And at least a few of you claim to have read all 500 of them.

My apologies to each of you, the english language that I torture, twist and destroy with each post, to the kind folks at Blogger who were stupid enough to give me (and the other blogging idiots I call "peers") some free server space to spout of on and to the kind, kind folks at Danbury Hospital who asked me to do this blog hoping I might actually inspire, educate, entertain and engage my fellow patients.

Labels: Blogs, Memories, Personal

Posted by Sean C. Amore @ 6:57 AM 0 comments

About The Author

Sean Amore, weighing nearly 500 pounds at the time, had gastric bypass surgery at Danbury Hospital in March 2007.

Sean has since lost more than 250 pounds but has gained much more through the procedure. The happiest, healthiest and most introspective he has ever been, Sean continues his journey in Wichita, Kansas where he lives with his wife and daughter.

My Journey by Sean C Amore