A Eulogy (for Half of Me)

Dearly Beloved,

We gather here today to bid a fond farewell to an old friend, a constant companion, a burdensome yet oddly comforting presence. I speak, of course, of Gordon L. Softanker, who, after years of faithful companionship, clinging to my bones and weighing me down, has finally departed for good.

Gordon did not go quietly. Oh no, he raged against the losing of the weight, clawing at every calorie, begging me to return to the land of late-night snacking and couch inertia. But in the end, he succumbed—melted away into the ether of progress, exorcised through an unholy amount of treadmill time and plant-based protein shakes.

Let us remember him fondly:

He was a loyal companion on long, sedentary nights, ever expanding to cushion me against the harshness of the world.
He kept me warm in winter, though, admittedly, too warm in summer.
He was my padding, my pillow, my comfort and (admittedly) sometimes, my excuse.

But let us not dwell on what we have lost. Instead, let us celebrate what has been gained: Good health, happiness, and forward momentum!

Gordon, wherever you are—perhaps dissipated into the mist of a thousand exhausted treadmill sessions—know that you were cherished and loved, but you had to go.

Rest in peace, my old friend.

The How: Three Years of Consistency, Shake by Shake

Losing Gordon was not an overnight tragedy. No, it was a slow, methodical heist planned with the precision of a jewel thief and the patience of a monk. It started when I enlisted the help of a doctor at my local weight management center. [Please consult a Doctor about your own weight loss plan. My plan is merely provided for the purpose of example.] There were no gimmicks. No magic pills. Just science, persistence, and a truly shocking amount of vegan protein shakes. I hate to break it to you, but weight loss isn't magic. It's just math mixed with sweat, distraction, determination, and consistency.

For three years, my daily menu was as follows:

Breakfast: Vegan protein shake. (200 calories)
Lunch: Another vegan protein shake. (200 calories)
Snack: A vegan protein bar. (110 calories)
Dinner: A modest, monk-like meal of shirataki noodles, organic marinara sauce, and a sacred, measured 2oz handful of baby spinach. (250 Calories)
Special occasions: A reasonable indulgence, like a fist full of popcorn, because life is meant to be lived (but also not in a way that resurrects a Gordon Zombie to drag me back down).

There were setbacks. There were days when I stared longingly at pizza commercials, whispering, “One day, my love.” But I pressed on, knowing that food wasn’t the enemy—mindless eating was. It all came down to a math equation that didn’t equal out.

Exercise? Oh, it began painfully. First, the treadmill, where I spent hours lumbering like an off-brand Sasquatch. Then came the stationary bike. Then, weightlifting, where I discovered that muscles are real things that people have.

One step at a time, one shake at a time, Gordon dwindled.

And now? Now comes the final farewell.

The Next Step: Saying Goodbye to the Extra Luggage

Having lost 170 pounds, there is a new challenge ahead. Though Gordon is gone, his ghost remains—in the form of excess skin, draped over his skeletal remains, pulling things down, getting in the way, getting infected and nagging at me, needing constant care. My stomach now resembles a deflated balloon, a relic of a past self that refuses to let go. An anchor that weighs me down and connects me to a person I no longer am. That’s where the panniculectomy comes in.

In just two months, I will undergo a panniculectomy, a surgical procedure that removes excess skin from the abdomen. Unlike a tummy tuck, which tightens muscles and contours the body, this surgery is all about relief—relief from the discomfort, chafing, and, let’s be honest, the awkward jiggling. It is not an aesthetic change, but a practical one.

The Process:

The Surgery: A skilled surgeon will remove approximately 25 pounds of extra skin, cutting me from the left side of my midsection, all the way across to the right. It’s a big cut. It’s gonna hurt. But I focus on the fact that I hope to be able to donate that 25 pounds of flesh to a burn unit who may need it. I want to do good with it. Make a difference.
The Recovery: Expect 6-8 weeks of healing, including soreness, swelling, and the inability to laugh too hard (a cruel fate for someone as funny as me).
The Results: A lighter, more comfortable body and the final step in closing this chapter.

But before I get there, one more battle remains: quitting smoking. I am proud to report that as of typing this, I am two days nicotine-free, going on three. By the time surgery day arrives, I will be fully smoke-free, ready to heal and move forward into this new chapter of my life.

The Real Secret? Support

None of this would have been possible without my army. Losing weight, changing habits, and committing to a healthier life takes more than just willpower—it takes a village of cheerleaders, coaches, and occasionally, dog sidekicks.

To Amanda, my rock and my reason for striving to be my best self. To my family, who cheered me on even when I was a grumpy bear who craved bread. To my dogs, who never judged me (unless I ate something they wanted). To my doctors and therapist, who gave me the tools to succeed.

Thank you. This victory is as much yours as it is mine.

Here’s to the Future

So here I am, 170 pounds lighter, smoke-free, and two months away from the final step in my transformation. It has been a journey of patience, discipline, and sheer stubbornness.

But was it worth it?

Absolutely.

To anyone out there struggling, wondering if they can do it: You can. You will. And when you do, I’ll be here raising a vegan protein shake in your honor.

Here’s to health. Here’s to happiness. Here's to loving yourself while embracing change.

Cheers!