Apparently, Size Does Matter

By Jarrett Bellini

“You know who you look like?” a girl said to me as we stood on the sidewalk outside the house party. “Lance Armstrong.”

I’d been told this before. Nevertheless, it was a sign of good things.

“Cept’ a lot shorter. You’re a short Lance Armstrong.”

Fantastic.

Putting such a compliment in baseball terms, that was like saying to the closing pitcher, “Hey, Gene, you threw a great inning. By the way, I’m sleeping with your wife.”

Maybe not that bad. In fact, I know when to be grateful, so I’ll take it for what it was – a mildly complimentary statement of fact. It’s easy for me to overlook the degrading tail end of it because, to be honest, I can think of worse things than to be compared to a seven-time Tour de France winner who happens to be waking up next to Sheryl Crow every morning. I mean, she could have compared me to Adolf Hitler, who, so far as I can tell, failed to win anything and never woke up next to Sheryl Crow. Eva Braun, what were you thinking?

My similarities in appearance to Lance Armstrong are focused on the ol’ noggin. We both have a short haircut that slopes down to a slight widow’s peak. From there, our facial structures mirror each other, especially when we smile – the way our jaws align. But the main thing is our big Dumbo ears. Mine stick out, experts may explain, because as a kid I was almost never without my favorite Cubs hat pulled down over my face, bending my ears out rather awkwardly. I used to swim in that stupid hat, and even celebrated my Bar Mitzvah with a specially-made Cubs yarmulke. Then, I grew up and realized there was no point in cheering for the Cubs because God hates them. It’s a fact.

I’m not sure why Lance Armstrong’s ears stick out, but they’re not nearly as bad as mine - and it doesn’t matter. Remember, he’s Lance Armstrong. He could grow a third leg, blasting horizontal from his belly, and still be cooler than ninety-nine percent of the planet.
That being said, he has blue eyes. Mine are brown. He has nice teeth. Mine look as though I have been chewing on ice all my life… which I have. So, we’re not a perfect match.

However, when it’s all said and done, the only thing that really matters to me is that I might really look like him. And I’m not talking about just our heads. I’m talking about physical structure. Obviously, I’m not a super-human athlete like Lance, and, therefore, don’t possess actual living, growing oak trees for legs. But, contrary to the way things are now, in my not too distant past our only comparison would’ve be in the context of, “Look, Mom, there’s Lance Armstrong… right next to that fat guy in the Cubs hat.”

By the summer of 2002, my body-mass index was somewhere close to that of an African Elephant. Four years of college in DC and one year of being unproductive in Colorado had plumped me up to a level of gross that I had never quite embodied. Caloric-bliss left me sloppy, tired, and greasy. I can’t say for certain, but there may have been actual margarine running through my veins. My physical activity was limited to watching golf on TV and occasionally flagging down bartenders for another round of pale ale. Good genes were the only thing that kept me from becoming one of those guys who needs to be forklifted out of his apartment after neighbors start complaining that their pets keep getting all eaten and stuff.

It really never got to be that bad, but I was horribly out of shape. Then, one day, after planning a trip to Costa Rica with an old high school buddy, I became inspired to get my life back in order. This was in June of 2003. Now, two years later, I’m in the best shape of my entire life. Allow me to share my secret: STOP EATING SO MUCH FOOD!

For starters, anyway. But there’s more than that. In fact, I can boil down my entire philosophy for dropping pounds to five easy steps, none of which will ever suggest going on Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, Slim Fast, or even Atkins… remember that crazy guy? Don’t eat carbs, he said. Then what happened to him? He fell on his head and died. See? Lot of good that diet did for him.

Step One: Start Working Out – Regularly

If you are unwilling to commit yourself to serious cardio and weight training five to six days a week, just stop reading, grab for yourself a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, and enjoy the rest of your days in creamy ecstasy. Without exercise, you can eat as many celery sticks as you please, but you’re not going to drop a whole lot of weight. One of the best things you can do is run – walking is useless. Of course, running is boring and it sucks, but once you get used to it you’ll crave it like high quality crack. Lifting weights, by the way, actually burns more calories than cardio… and the name of this game is BURN MORE CALORIES THAN YOU TAKE IN. It’s that simple, stupid.

Step Two: F-Off!

Starting immediately, you need to rid your disgusting life of fast, fried, and fatty foods. That means no more Burger King, no more chicken wings, and no more Dongs that go Ding. No more Doritos, no more Tequitos, and no more Burritos. Cheerios, however, are fine… unless you cover them in gravy.

Step Three: Drink Little to No Alcohol

This one’s gonna hurt. Despite all of alcohol’s good attributes (getting wasted and passing out after a night of loveless sex with the Waffle House waitress), booze will do three things that aren’t so great: slow your metabolism, fill you with calories, and encourage late-night feasting at all-night diners... like Waffle House. Which can be good.

Step Four: Drink Lots of Water

This will make you feel more full, fend off false hunger pains caused by dehydration, and assist with metabolism and muscle growth. There’s really nothing bad about water unless you get it delivered to your house by Love Canal Industries.

Step Five: Allow Sloppy Sundays

When Sunday rolls around, give yourself the day off. Don’t work out, eat whatever the hell you want, and watch TV with your pants down. This will keep you from going crazy. However, soon you’ll find that you don’t want to eat bad foods and that you’d rather be enjoying life outside (with or without your pants). Still, hold off from working out; your body does need to recover.

That’s pretty much it. Pretty easy, yes? Keep at it, and soon you’ll be slim and trim just like Lance Armstrong… ‘cept shorter.