1 Big Fat Whiny Dude, at Lunch

So as I sit here, eating my black bean gardenburger with sauteed mushrooms and sugar-free NOS energy drink, unable to lift my arms above shoulder height without pain because Lucie and I had one of our sessions with our personal trainer last night, I totally appreciate the fact that because of this freakin' diet and because of the weekly sessions with the perky and athletic and far too happy twentysomething chick who tries to kill us with exercise, that since I've started my diet I've lost 70 pounds and 8 inches of waistline.

This, in spite of gaining ten pounds on our Hawaiian vacation -- thanks in no small part to those sugary tropical drinks at sunset -- and basically plateauing during the Thanksgiving and Christmas shutdowns where I sat around all day instead of working; so all things considered, I'm totally stoked at the progress.  Heck, even without those things taken into consideration it's still pretty impressive.

So, groovy.

But, as I sit here, eating my black bean gardenburger with sauteed mushrooms and sugar-free NOS energy drink, unable to lift my arms above shoulder height without pain because Lucie and I had one of our sessions with our personal trainer last night, I SO totally want a cheeseburger.  I'm talking a huge, greasy, red meat bonanza; a half pound, minimum, of ground cow on toasted bun; a cholesterol-laden unhealthy monster patty made of 100% beef and 98% yum, smothered in melted cheese that's a color not found in nature.

I want Five Guys.  I want The Counter.  I want St. John's.  Heck, I even want Red Robin.

Dieting is worth it, they say.

Well, THEY can suck it.  Gimme a cheeseburger.

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