There are few things that make me wish for springtime to end than the infinite amount of New Year’s resolution articles that begat Spring Fitness articles that begat all that bullshit space filler that writers foment before the “here’s a forwarded e-mail list that I converted into an article” vacation editorials that start in May. I also recognize that that may be the longest intro sentence in history. Regardless, as previously noted, I have a sincere disdain in my heart for the crappy writing that has crawled away from the Internets and infected the newspapers and magazines I frequently read. I’m picking on one writer in particular this article as is my wont, but he’s not the only one, just merely the one who will take all the lashings.
Nate Jones, writer of the “Keeping up with Jones” articles, is trying a diet. Before we even begin, is there a class you take as a journalism students that imbues you with the uncanny ability to take your name or some other associative characteristic and spin in to a working title for your bullshit? The title of this piece in particular is “Guide to Cheating (on diets)”, and in the ensuing dear Penthouse levels of food fellatio there seems to be nothing approaching a guide. Am I mistaken that a guide, at it’s very core, is at least a few bullet points in order to teach something or a list of progressions? Not so in this article. Mr. Jones has been writing about losing weight since the beginning of the year. He joins a pantheon of his editorial compatriots with lives so bland that this is the consolation of that life. Common filler, no substance, no real insight. So you can forgive me if he finds this and gets his feelings hurt. The impersonality aside, there’s no reason to root for him because, like everyone before him, he will fail. And wouldn’t you know if we won’t HEAR about that too!
He writes of visiting friends and that it’s just impossible to maintain a diet plan because I guess they all become feral hogs when united. His belief that backyard football would somehow be the common denominator in allowing his dietary laziness is to be believed charming. Since it rains, the hogs…I mean he and his buddies decide to, in his words “feast”. Before we delve into the next few paragraphs of the food romantic novel with the Fabio carved out of sharp cheddar cheese on the cover, an aside. Like many of his fellow New Year’s Resolutionists, he uses the terms old me/new me when describing his tendencies. His “new me” is the one who is the dieter/exerciser and the “old me” is the fat slob that can’t stop cramming stuff in to his face hole. The key difference is that the old me shouldn’t exist in the present tense, yet this “old me” must be an unstoppable eating frenzy machine, because he somehow keeps showing up and forcing “new me” to eat unhealthy bullshit, and/or making excuse as to not keep the “new me” diet thing going. The sentences “But it rained, and rained, and rained, and it was dismal outside. So we decided to feast.” surely doesn’t sound like “new me” wrote it, and I’m pretty sure it was “old me” that made Mr. Jones think that titling a sexy feast romp with a breakfast pizza as a “guide” was a good idea too!
These pock-faced, jiggly, sweaty zombies shamble in to a store looking to eat whatever gets in their way first. From what I gather no babies or small children happened to be sprinkled with Cheese Whiz and consumed in his area, so I gather he actually bought food. He describes how they all come upon the idea to make a Mexican Breakfast Pizza. Now, in an ironic turn, this is where “new me” could’ve chimed in, but I guess Mr. Jones feared he would be eaten for even suggesting that they could add vegetables (a la’ Mexican) like peppers, onions, beans, other healthy alternative and the like. Instead the only Mexican thing about the pizza is enchilada sauce, and a ‘generous layer‘ of “Mexican Blend” cheese. The rest is more cheese, ham, eggs, and bacon. Again, totally Mexican, right?
Mr. Jones laments that it’s too many calories, but so much fun to make! He adds that this is just one way to cheat on a diet. This must me “old me” writing again, because he must be inferring cheating in the romantic sense. Because Mr. Jones, you’re not cheating on your diet, you’re just plain failing at it. It’s not like your diet is blind to your shenanigans, or that you’ll somehow fix this impropriety with an extra mile to your walks or another rep on the ol’ bench press. You just say you’ll try better in the coming months. You even write in your editorial that the Mexican Breakfast Pizza is something that you wouldn’t eat “very often”! That’s defeatist “old me” ostensibly saying that you’ll do this again.
To finish his article Mr. Jones says that it’s time to get even more serious about this adventure. And while I applaud him for the efforts thus far, if you’re at the beginning of April and still trying to get serious about weight loss at this point, you’ve already fallen to the “old me” mentality. “New me” wouldn’t have time to be typing out excuses or justifications for lack of willpower. This is not his first rodeo in dietary failure, I’ve been actively following his foolishness since January and this is like his 13th time fucking up. So no, he won’t find any support here.
I get that writing his journey down might make him stick to it better, as it is a trick as old as time. I’m doing my best to lose weight this year too, but I’m not being flagrant about it. There is no slipping up and fucking up a diet, when one doesn’t exist. There’s something to be said of the “Watch what you eat, exercise, and get plenty of rest” idea and it’s lasting legacy. That’s all it takes Mr. Jones. Perhaps your time would be better served educating your readers on world events or things that REALLY matter. There’s enough of this diet editorial bullshit to go around. At the very least, you can always try again next New Year’s!
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