Ever since I’ve lost my ninety pounds over the past year, my routine has become completely different. That is, while before I lost the weight my fat ass lied moaning on the floor of my room in pain from all of the food that I had only managed to keep from coming back out of me by inhaling bottles of antacid tablets that also acted as food and could ironically only be contained by more bottles of antacid tablets, I now rise out of bed in the morning and do things that are considered normal, that I know are considered normal because I see people on TV and in the movies do the same things. I eat breakfast. I drive to work. I listen to traffic updates on the way to work to gauge my driving time and route. I use breath mints. I check my voicemail.
However, in the course of losing the weight and developing some sort of recognizable routine, my lingering OCD was kind enough to allow even my healthy habits to devolve into a pit of horribleness. Now, my routine is extremely regimented. I wake up every morning at the exact same time, to the minute. I use the same amount of swipes of deodorant under each arm. “Oh, that’s normal” you say? Are you saying that? Why are you talking to yourself while reading this at work? When I get into my car, the digital car-clock reading has to read 7:48 or earlier, or my day is ruined. I drive to the convenience store and buy three Nutri-Grain® bars and two orange juices. I then take my multivitamin and have to finish my breakfast by 7:56 or my day is shot, again. Okay, this really doesn’t sound all that bad really, you know, compared to writhing in pain on my floor in a pool of sweat and antacids, but it does get worse.
I guess life is better than it was one year ago. I have just enough money to buy the diet food that I hate. I am just presentable enough to women that they give me a double-take just before ignoring me, and my heartburn is just manageable enough to allow me to go to sleep at night easily enough, so I am just enough well-rested in the morning to force myself out of bed in just enough time to start my painfully self-regimented routine.