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Tales from the Long, Flat Plateau

Tales from the Long, Flat Plateau

2013.04.02 12:48 am0 comments

It grieves me, Reader, to see Biggs struggle so. The air is thin, the terrain flat, the metaphors mixed, as Biggs ambles his away across a long, flat plateau on his way to Weightlossia. He reached this plateau almost three weeks ago, bolstered by early, easy success. 12 l’pounb’s dropped off in no time, and it seemed like the road to 30 lbs was paved with the asphalt of simplicity and lined with the white-and-yellow paint of success.

Since then, Biggs has held steady at fluctuating wildly, weighing in between 235 and 240 lbs. The dreaded PLATEAU.


This is the sort of thing that comes up when you search for images of “plateau” at the Library of Congress website. We really treated the native Americans quite badly, but we excelled at taking great pictures of them.

Leaving the metaphor by the side of the road for a moment, let’s analyze what REALLY happened. Like most tragic tales, its roots are buried in the mists of time.* Centuries ago, a priest, or possibly a shoemaker, named Nicholas or something decided to give some kids, or some people, some presents, or possibly coal, which was either bad, because who wants coal? or good, because, hey! coal! now we can not freeze to death! in order to celebrate Christmas, or Candlemas, or possibly Michaelmas or some such.

Time passed, and we eventually reached December 2012. Biggs had been ESPECIALLY good that year, so Santa Claus brought Biggs a very special gift: ten soft, fluffy pounds of chubby tummy! Biggs was so excited, he popped the buttons off of ALL HIS SHIRTS!


I’ve brought soft, buttery fat for Biggs. For the rest of you, Diabetes!

So, yeah, the first ten pounds were easy to lose. This is the part where it gets hard.

Weight loss plateaus seem common in the internet-message-board-and-random-blog health community. At this time, we should not, cannot and will not address the scientific literature, as it is far less easy to google.

We at Operation: Biggs! are of the opinion that if Biggs keeps on trekking, he will probably find the terrain starts to slope again, up, down, or whatever direction represented weight loss in this metaphor. But in order to speed this process, we have started making him do push ups.

We’re making decent progress on this, despite the fact that in middle school, Biggs was the kid that could do like a third of a push up and the gym teacher would round it up to 1 in order to goose her Presidential Physical Fitness totals. (Remember that? Arnold Schwarzenegger was the Commissioner or something. That was somewhere between “massive steroid abuser” and “Governor of Cal-e-forn-ya.”)


Climb the rope, fatty! I’ve held multiple positions in guvahnment, despite my inability to pronounce it.

One faint, faint hope, just the tiniest glimmer, is that the lack-of-weight-loss is just muscle development: that the push ups are creating this huge mass of dense heavy muscle on Biggs’ arms and shoulders. That this enbeastening of Biggs has more than offset the fat loss that is no doubt occurring at the same time.

But this is unlikely the case. What is in all probability, a much more relevant part of the “case” is this: MASSIVE EASTER WEEKEND THREE-DAY CHEAT DAY!

Look for that tale of woe in an upcoming update. Up up. And away.

*I hope, for your sake, Dear Reader, that there is some sort of Metaphor Police, or Cliche Patrol that will intervene soon.

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