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by David Todd McCarty | Friday, July 15, 2016

I’ve been a lot of thinking lately about a certain corned beef sandwich, preferably grilled with butter, on a nice sturdy rye, with mustard and melted swiss. There’s a perfect pickle there as well. It’s a fantasy that is currently knocking about in my head.

I’m on day six of what is a planned two week fast. I say planned because with these kind of things, it’s like the people in the rooms say, “You have to take it one day at a time.” I recognize the truth in this statement. I can’t think about tomorrow or next week. I just have to get through today.

No food. No alcohol. No caffeine. I gave up cigarettes almost five years ago and never picked them up again, so that’s one less thing. I currently subsist on a concoction of water, lemon juice, maple syrup and cayenne pepper. It’s a recipe developed by some nut who named it the Master Cleanse. It’s a thing. It’s not new. I’m not a disciple, just using it at the moment.

The first time I fasted was almost five years ago. I was on a shoot in Miami and at the end of the shoot the producer met me in the bar of this beautiful steakhouse we’d been shooting in. I was having a vodka, my third or fourth, and was getting ready to switch over to wine before ordering my steak dinner right there at the bar. He had a beer. He began telling me that he used to be fat. Had health problems from it. Then he discovered this juice fasting concept and lost fifty pounds. Got off his medications. Felt great. I was listening with half an ear, like you do when someone is telling you about their dreams, or trying to recap the plot of a book they just finished.

“That’s nice,” you think. “Why are you bothering me with this?”

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by David Todd McCarty | Friday, November 13, 2015

Everyone will tell you how they lost the weight. They can’t wait to tell you how they lost the weight. But no one tells you how they gained the weight. I’m sure it’s no mystery. Eat shitty. Sedentary lifestyle. Booze.

Well, this is my story.

I went to the doctor recently to make sure I wasn’t dying. So far so good, but they’re still going to do some tests. One involves sticking something down my throat. The other involves sticking something up my ass. Maybe they’ll meet in the middle and just determine that I’m too fat.

When I was a kid, I was really skinny. I would try lighting weights and taking protein powders. Nothing. I was a rail. Of course I was also really active. Sports. Cycling. Swimming. Just plain old running around. I was a kid on the move. No moss growing on me.

Sometime after college, when I had ceased to play sports and had discovered beer, I began to put on weight. But not in the way I had been hoping to in high school. It wasn’t extreme, but I wasn’t thin as a rail anymore.

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