Mahussive!

I came home last night to a small ditch in the conservatory. That said, I know that the building inspector has been around and that there is always an element of 'getting going' to a job, so I thought I would give them a helping hand and last night I ripped out the roof, the joists, the beams and the doors, as well as knocking down the external wall and taking out the windows which don't go into my existing kitchen.

Of the old conservatory (which was really just a room with a clear roof) there is nothing except one section of a joist, which runs behind a downpipe and will be easier to remove later, and the door (sans frame) which I am leaving in situ until I take the rubble away as a glass door is safer vertical than horizontal with small children around.

Anyway, I had a good few beers last night and a rather splendid pie, followed by muesli and oranges for a midnight snack (remember the baby?) which seem to have put me in good stead for this morning's adventures in weight loss.

I am sitting on the edge of the bed, desperate for the loo, waiting for Jim to finish. She has stolen my dressing gown, the one I bought so that I would have something to walk around in after she stole my last dressing gown. What is she doing, wearing two? This means I have to wait for her to get to the bedroom before I can go and I am getting frantic now. There's the flush, come on, come on.

We had a good night's sleep last night, comparatively, as the littlest Manley managed a . . .
================
I went for a poo
================
Sorry to leave mid sentence, I was going to say that she managed to sleep for longer than she has done before - five and a half hours in one stretch - so I am feeling relatively refreshed. I have got better news than that though!

Pre-poop weight: 198.2lbs
post-poop weight: 192.3lbs

If I might re-iterate:

Pre-poop weight: 198.2lbs
post-poop weight: 192.3lbs

That's a 5.9lb poop. I just lost nearly 6 lbs in weight. Who needs dieting when I can lose weight like this? The pounds are not so much falling off ass* falling out.

Woot!

That's equivalent to this whole pile of weights I have balanced for your viewing pleasure!
---------------------------------------------------

Looky here, it's not an hour later and I need another poo! Losing weight the easy way, huh? I weight 196.8lbs.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
196.6lbs. Only a .2 lb poop, but what was I expecting? I have tipped the scales at a whopping 6.1lbs of poo so far today. Fat no more!

*This was an accidental typo, but I like it, so it stays. Thanks to Matthewparker for pointing it out to me.

A behind the scenes look at the technology involved in The Log Blog

Following on from this morning's adventures in chalk, I thought I'd give you a further peek into my methodology.

In the early days, when poop related weight loss was a new idea and I was pioneering in the field (I got asked to stop doing that by the farmer) I used to remember my weights easily. Sadly those days have gone and I need to keep records. As you have seen, at home I have a chalk board next to the crapper to do the job, but at work such luxuries are not available so, instead, I use the 'Christ's desk post-it note' method.



Here we see the post-it note stuck to the inside of the cubicle door. Once I have completed the relevant activities I stick the note to my chest and return for a re-weigh. Today, for the first time, I lost the post-it along the way, but thankfully I had this photograph to remind me.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
and now I weigh 194.2lbs, so that's a 1.6lb poop.

I hope that you have enjoyed this little look at the workings of my dieting system.

Thanks to Christ for the use of his post-it notes.

I have no brain at all.

The baby woke up last night, which is not unusual. What is unusual was my inability to determine that it was not yet morning, which led to me getting up and starting to get dressed. The builders arrived at 6 to start work on digging up the floor of the conservatory and, in general, the world is arse.

Talking of arse, I woke up and had a poo, but being too tired to see properly I scrawled the weights onto the blackboard and then returned to bed, as you can see here:



That works out to be, erm, about 1.2lbs of poop.

Not a bad start to the day.

I have had no sleep at all.

I want some sleep.

This is written in retrospect as today I ripped out the walls and floor of my conservatory in preparation for the builders arriving tomorrow.

Bare basics:

195.6 => 194 = 1.6
202 => 200.9 = 1.1

The heavier weights are with my Steel toe-capped rigger boots on, so I am not concerned about the weight. I'm sorry this is such a short update, but here's the charts:

Fear of builders

On Friday the builders begin knocking down external walls of my house. This gives me the gut wrenching fear.

Not gut wrenching enough it would seem as I have dropped a mere 1.1lbs, from 194lbs to 192.9lbs following this morning's weight loss visit to the dieting throne.

This is not really good enough.

In other news however, we have a new prime minister, so I made a little tune to celebrate.

Second attempt; can we improve on this morning's record?

Well, I had a piece of frankly rank toast this morning. Whilst I do not make it my business to offer consumer reviews, steer clear of Nimble Wholemeal bread, it's utterly appalling with no redeeming features whatsoever. Anyway, I then followed it up with a quick cup of tea and find that I tip the scales at a consistent 197.2lbs.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
193.6lbs. 193.6lbs. That's almost a 4lb poop.

Yay Manley!

Bleugh

I seem to be waking up every morning with a hangover recently. I feel disinclined to blame this on the rum than one might expect and am developing the firm conviction that I must be coming down with something. I suspect that it is some kind of 'small poop syndrome' to boot.

I weigh a whopping 198.6lbs
=================
I am having a poo
=================
All this weight loss, without the aid of medication, exercise, slimming tablets, powders, remedies, pharmaceuticals, dieting, weight-watchers or any other modern fads (Atkins can just sod right off, for example) is draining me. I appear, in the words of the lovely Banana, to have "the body of a 15 year old with hair" these days, and I have the teenage headaches to match.



Despite eating a disproportionate amount of chocolate truffles (incidentally, the Tesco Organic Chocolate Truffles are rather smashing, I'd go so far as to say that they may be better than the Thorntons Organic ones) and even a Toffee Crisp, thanks to the lovely Eleanor Prescious, My poops have been rapidly diminishing in size and, indeed, this seems likely to be well below par. Ah well, back to the scales.



198.3lbs. A 0.3lb poop. Abject failure on the weight loss front.

To poo or not to poo

that is the question.

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the cramps and pains of outrageous torment or, in the face of anguish, to end all?

Well today, I'm going for the latter and I'm straight off to the john for a spot of weight loss and no mistake.

195.0lbs before and 194.3lbs after. Nothing to write home about, but I'm damned if I'm holding it in today.

And Then!

193.6lbs
=================
I am having a poo
=================
193.2lbs

Maybe I should have held on for an extra 10 minutes after all?

With friends like these . . .

Having a new baby can be a sleepless affair, so when the lovely Dagnalls rock up with not only a rather smashing spaghetti bolognese, but also all the plates, cutlery and dishes required and starters and puddings to boot, I'd be hard pushed to be anything but grateful.

One of the other side effects of new babies is fairly boring meals when we have to prepare them ourselves (the addition of chocolates from work and our friends help, of course) so I had high hopes for this morning's faecal activities.

After bell ringing for the 1000hrs service, I rush home in time to meet the midwife (an amazing lady who not only gave us our pre-natal care, delivered our baby and is handling our post-natal care, but is also here on her son's 28th birthday (he trooped the colours last weekend, so she is very proud) and it is her father's 101st birthday tomorrow. Thank you Trish, you've been a star) and just have time for a quick poop first.

I weigh a mighty 197.6lbs.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
And now I am 186.9lbs. No, that can't be right, I must have written it wrong, bear with me . . .
No, I weigh 196.9lbs. That's more like it. Only a .7lb poop, but what can I do? I have noticed that my daily totals are diminishing of late, so I have been talking with professionals and, on the advice of the great vbloke, I am going to try warm water with lemon juice.

Soon.

ish.

Scatology as a team sport is ultimately doomed.

It's been a rough, sleepless night for some adult members of the Manley family. In all fairness, #3 Manley sprog is a paragon of good baby behaviour and one night out of nine is not to be sniffed at, but none the less we are tired.

I weigh in at 193.1lbs, through my bleary eyes.
==================
I am having a poo
==================
And now I am 192.2lbs. That's just under a pound of poop.

Jim weighs 100.9lbs as she stands and 109.8lbs with a babe in arms. Said babe is nappy and clothing ridden and has just had a feed, so I don't suppose that she really weighs 9lb, but it's a nice indication. I'm taking her back to my room to try and keep her awake for a while.
===================
Jim is having a poo
===================
And now she weighs 100.4lbs, so that's an 8oz poop.

I find it slightly scary that I weigh approximately twice as much as my spouse. In fact it is most alarming.

Aero!

According to the entry in the patent database, Aero bars are formed by a method involving chocolate in a liquid state on the verge of solidifying. Air is run through the chocolate with a vacuum as it cools (in the form of many very small bubbles), resulting in evenly distributed bubbles throughout the bar and a honeycomb-like texture.

The exact procedure for making the bubbles is a closely guarded secret. The question of how the bubbles are so evenly distributed throughout the chocolate was the subject of a question in one issue of New Scientist, which made it into the compendium of readers' questions "Does Anything Eat Wasps?". A spokesperson for Nestlé provided some clues but there has been no definitive answer.

Coming from a generation that called Nestlé 'nessalls' and had their Aero bars manufactured by Rowntree Mackintosh, I can't say that I have ever really worried too much. The Aero hot chocolate I buy is very nice, but I have always been of the opinion that my industrial milkshake machine is what puts the bubbles in. Now I suddenly am intrigued.

I weighed in at 195.6lbs this morning, which is a little over 14st, but I did have my shoes on, so it's not a worry. I then visited the little boy's room (which strangely appears to be full of female coat hangars today. That is female as in with female sizes on them, rather than actually female coat hangars. There are certainly both male and female coat hangars there, given the rate at which they appear to be multiplying).

As you will no doubt be aware, My Lordship shies away from graphic descriptions of the actual event. This experiment is about weight loss, not pornography for coprophiles. Today is going to be slightly more graphic so, if you don't want to read about it, simply avoid the area of text between the bars.

---

I did a simply enormous turd. Massive diameter and well above average in length. Surely a candidate for the heaviest yet?

---

I weigh myslef back in at 195.2lbs. That's less than half a pound of poop.

Bloody Nestlé!

Solstice!

One of the truly lovely things about leaving Cardiff and moving to the South West is the extra 6 minutes I get in bed at Solstice time. That said, If I was still living in Dundee I would have had to rise 41 minutes earlier and been far, far colder.

This marks the seventh anniversary of Jim and I being a couple, getting together, as we did, at Glastonbury 2000, the fourth anniversary of our marriage, the summer solstice and the one week birthday of our youngest.

Four o'clock in the morning is a lovely time to drive and we go along a track through the forest which means actually driving through branches to appear on the crest of the hill over Exeter. There are advantages to Forestry Commission trailbuilding after all.

Home in time for school and all is well.



I weigh 202.7lbs and I have almost no function in my brain for maths at all.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
Stand on scales. 199.8lbs. Work out weight of turd later. Bed.

No, no bed yet. Back to bathroom. Stand on scales. 196.1lbs. I have taken off my clothes, hence the drop in weight.
=======================
I am having another poo
=======================
195.1lbs. Now I go to bed, 3.9lbs of poo lighter.

Goodnight.

Now you're just taking the mickey.

197.3lbs I weigh, as I go in for my fourth poo of the day. I used to suffer with IBS when I was younger, but not for years. Bloody bottom*, playing me up.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
It occurs to me that today has consisted of several small poops and that these will mess up the charts somewhat. I have elected therefore to make a new graph which shows daily turd totals against the last measured daily weight, shown as the margin from my ideal weight (currently 190lbs, although this is arbitrary and subject to change at any time).

196.2 - That brings today's total up a touch.



*Not literally.

Cor blimey! 3 poops before lunch.

Still a little bemused as to how my weight goes up in the mornings, even though I have nothing to eat or drink, I toddle off to the bathroom for a bath (which seems sensible, given that this is the room to do it in) and cannot resist the urge to curl out another big job.

Dieting is a thing of the past and I am concentrating all my weight loss activities on the scatology programme now, so every little bit helps.

I weigh in at 196.1lbs, which isn't too shoddy (about 14st).
=================
I am having a poo
=================
I forgot what I was about and got undressed ready for my bath, so now I am perched on the scales holding a pile of clothing with the contents of my pockets balanced around my feet. It's a hard life, but this is all in the name of science. 194.9lbs makes for a nice 1.2lb number two. That brings us up to two and a half pounds so far today, which isn't to be sniffed at.

But then poo never is.

Titchy-poos!

Quick! Just about to run the child to school but I need a quick visit to Ivor first.

Scales say 199.8lbs
=================
I am having a poo
=================
199.7lbs - that's as small a poop as I can measure. I'd better get the baby strapped into its sling and be on my way, 0.1lb lighter, as I am, I cannot imagine how much easier the journey is going to be.

Chinese food

We had a gathering last night. Initially my sister and her husband came and bought us a rather smashing Chinese takeaway, made all the nicer by a very average bottle of wine turning out to be really rather quaffable.

We were half way into a proper bun fight when Tinium, his wife Toby and Matthewparker arrived with gifts. We hadn't waited for them as our children had to go to bed shortly, but the appeal of Chinese cuisine was too strong a draw, so Tinium was straight on the blower ordering a second round.

By the time Matthewparker's lady friend arrives My Lordship is bloated, but what with her being an international athlete and all, what else was there to do but tuck into a Chinese meal?

How can all this lead to anything more or less than a massive turd? I weigh in at 196.5lbs.
===============
I am having a poo
===============
And it weighs 1.3lbs. Not huge, but a vast improvement on recent trends. 195.2lbs post-poop is not a bad weight either.

Second time lucky.

198.6 => 198.0 - got to go take middle child to nursery - will return to fill out with bumph later!

[EDIT: It appears, finding this post incomplete a month later, that I never did!]

Second time lucky.

The middle Manley daughter goes to nursery some small distance from the family seat, so - given that Jim only gave birth on Thursday - I have to cycle home from work to walk #2 along there.

Before I set off I need to have a #2 of my own. I weigh a quite astounding 198.6lbs.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
198lbs dead - that's a 0.6lb poop. Not huge, but at least it is a positive number this time, eh?

I have elected to blame my floater on the Entonox I had at the hospital.

DISASTER!

New baby, lack of sleep, dazed Manley.
Weight apparently says 194.7lbs.
Big poo.
Weight 195.5lbs
Shock
Check
Weight 195.5lbs

Shit.

It could be said that this calls into question my methodology, but I think it rather draws attention to my state of mind when I read the first weight from the scales.

I don't think that my poo can genuinely have a negative weight, so I think that for now I shall have to leave it off the charts.

This is not a good day for scatologist weight loss.

Back to work.

Well, my first full day back in the office, post baby. I have been working from home over the weekend to make up for Thursday and Friday (I just cannot afford to live on statuary paternity leave pay, especially now that my penny bun costs a shilling) but it is odd to be back on the old grey scales which tell me that I am precisely 200lbs.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
199.4lbs? A ten minute poo and I manage 0.6lbs of excrement? That's 9.6ozs of poop. I use more butter in a cake.

I am a disappointment to myself.

Getting angsty, waiting for a 'phone call.

I want to know what is happening. Jim was going to call at 1300hrs and let me know and it is nearly 1500hrs now. Bah!

I weigh a nervous 198.5lbs.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
An even more nervous 196.6lbs - that's nearly a 2lb poo. Not bad, but there's the 'phone, so I have popped up a quick post (and I came back and filled it out a bit later on).

Excitement.

On my own.

Jim is still in hospital with our youngest daughter and, despite having swathes of time to myself I seem unable to remember to care for myself in simple ways, like eating.

Feeding the children is easy enough, but I seem to forget my own needs. Hopefully we shall see this reflected in my weight.

Pre-poo: 194.2 - not all that exciting, but maybe I'm in fo a 4lber, which would breing me down to around my new ideal weight.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
193.1 An eleven pound poo. Not what we could have hoped for, but to be honest, if I forget to eat then I am unlikely to have much to excrete either and I shall, no doubt, wreck my metabolic balance to boot.

Now then, where are those peanuts?

195 the key to the arc of the covenant.

Early morning attack from the two elder children. Somehow, when Father is at home and Mum is away, coordinating organised assaults on the master bedroom before the hours of wakefulness is deemed acceptable when it would otherwise be unheard of.

The scales tell me that I am 195.7lbs in my nightshirt.
The mirror tells me that I could have done with more sleep.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
Post pooping scale standing reports that I have left a seven sacrifice at the watery altar. 195.0lbs, eh? Would have been 5lbs light, pre-ideal weight change, but now I am 5lbs heavy!

And no, I didn't misspell ark, I meant the covenant rainbow.

No more names please!

Now I don't get a huge number of comments here and, if I am honest, I just keep this blog updated for my own amusement and as a minor and personal art project, so, given that I don't advertise an email address here, it came as something of a surprise to receive quite so many emails suggesting names.

Please stop, I use Google Mail to handle my pop3 and I am not sure they have enough servers to handle the influx. We have named her now, but thank you all for caring so very much.

Anyway, the second poo today was a bit of an improvement, but I do appear to have put on some weight:

I weigh in at 200.8lbs - that's not so good, let's hope for massive big jobs, eh?
===============
I am having a poo
===============
Post poop weight is . . . 198.2lbs - still half a stone over my new ideal weight (isn't it strange how changing that has altered my perception of myself from trim to morbidly obese? Perhaps I am becoming anorexic after all - never mind, I have a lot of reserves left yet!) but a 2.6lb poop, which is something to write home (or at least to blog) about.

A small start to a new day.

One of the disadvantages of being at home whilst number 3 is in all dripped up is that I get to have scales in the same room as I poo. Who could ask for more? Hop up on the scales, weigh myself at 195.9lbs, then sit down and evacuate 8lb of poo, before jumping to my feet and weighing in at 195.1lbs afterwards, with a liberal helping of manual hygiene mixed in for good measure.

We still need girls' names though.

Outshined.

I started this morning at 198lbs, but a quick poop brought that down to 196.7lbs pretty sharpish, then this evening I managed to drop from 199.8lbs to 199.2lbs again, but today's roll of honour has to go to the lovely Jim who managed to squeeze out 7lbs 11.5ozs of baby daughter.

She doesn't have a name as yet, but she was 51cm long and had a 35cm circumference head.

Unfortunately Jim is in the post-natal ward recovering whilst the baby is in the Neo-Natal special care unit, all full of needles and tubes and in a little plastic box. As an added bonus the hospital closed down today, so at 0830hrs tomorrow morning the Neo-Natal unit is relocating to another hospital.

How they will manage the breast feeding with mother and baby in different hospital campuses I have no idea, but we will manage something I am sure.

I am a dad again.

Change of plan.

I'm getting a little bored of being underweight. It has removed a lot of the challenge from the game. Looking at the NHS Direct BMI calculator I find that if my BMI is between 18.5 and 24.9 then I'm an ideal weight for my height. They don't deign to tell me what this relates to in weight, but a little footling tells me that this means that I should be between 144.1lbs and 193.9lbs. That's just over 10st 4lbs right up to just under 13st 12lbs.

I can't imagine that I'd be a very healthy man at 10st 4lbs, but I am going to relocate my ideal weight point to the 190lb mark for now (that's 13st 8lbs - 2 stone below my starting weight).

As you can see, this effects my charts somewhat:



As my prep school masters would have said, 'Manley could do better'.

IBS FTW

Going in at 197.4lbs (note my new unitary measurements - I found a switch on the back of the scales).
=================
I am having a poo
=================
Coming out at 196lbs. 1.4lb of poop to add the the 1lb I already managed this morning. I am concerned that I am now becoming dangerously underweight and am thus waiting for the office teen to return from McDonalds with my burger.

Hopefully we could see a third plop this very afternoon.

Suffering for my art.

Well, the new arrival has still yet to arrive, so I have left Jim with instructions to return the scales to Boots and declare them to be a failure in their own lunch hour.

In the mean time, it's time for an early poop, following a really rather entertaining meeting with Dafydd Davis(who is an expensive trail builder who has received an MBE for his work with the FC - can you imagine?) at the Nobody Inn last night (where they have whiskeys which cost £80 a shot and some which are hundreds and hundreds of pounds a bottle) which, after it had calmed down, was very informative and should help us press on with the Haldon Freeride project.

Anyway, you don't care about cycling, you're all about the scat, so: 13st 13.5lbs on the office scales, where the Finance Director is cladding a wheelchair in cardboard boxes, inconveniently close to the bathroom scales.
================
I am having a poo
================
When I go to wash my hands,n with the dispensed liquid soap on them, I find that the tap has jammed fast. I like to think I am a fairly strong chap, you know, opening pickle jars and pushing cars and other manly activities which rhyme with stars, so I give it what we scatologists like to call 'some welly'. As the washer gives up its last holds on the threads I caught my thumbnail on the sink with enough force to fold it in half on itself and the results included a heady mix of blood and profanity.

Millie cut me a small piece of envelope label to use as a plaster (we have plasters in the kitchen, so I can only assume this was out of some desire for craft) and apparently has some children's scissors, as I am left with a small thumb hat in the style of Beattie.

Anyway, the number you are looking for is 1 as I weigh back in at 13st 12.5lbs.

Spam!

Well, I have started getting spam comments and I cannot be arsed with faffing around deleting them, maybe I should move my blog onto www.lordmanley.co.uk sometime soon.

Anyway, it seems to be TTP, so I'll go weigh myself.

14st 2lbs, not too shoddy, off to visit Ivor.
=================
I am having a poo
After last night's curry (we are trying to hurry labour along!) I have high hopes for this. Early indications are that I'm going to achieve some serious weight loss today.
=================
14st 0.5lbs. a 1.5lb poo. It's not too bad, but I have become used to larger burdens of late and am a little disappointed. I shall have to work on my weight loss techniques.

Multi-poop

Another! Crikey!

Cor blimey, strike a light, all the saints alive; yet another poo!

14st 5lbs beforehand and 14st 3.5lbs afterwards. That's a little bit of speculation there, since the scales returned various results, but it's not far off a decent average and I feel content to use it.

That's another 1.5lb of poop and, perhaps less importantly, brings me back down below my 'ideal weight'. To look at me, I have lost a lot of weight now, but I certainly still have the vestiges of a paunch, so I am looking to trim up a tad anyhoo.

Scales on the blink?

The scales I bought from Boots on Saturday are already on the blink. It took me several attempts to get the damned things going - if she needs exercise to get the baby out then Jim can take them back tomorrow.

Anyway, when they finally started working they show me up as an appalling 14st 7lbs (I suppose that this is the price I pay for weighing myself in the evenings) so a nice big weight loss poop is very much required if I am going to get back to my ideal weight.
===============
I am having a poo
===============
14st 5lbs - I think this is the first time I have been overweight post-poop, but then I have eaten a chocolate cake and partaken of the noble hop this evening, so I have nobody to blame but myself.

I shall, of course, blame Amanda.

No baby yet.

Having started having contractions about 3 minutes apart on Saturday morning, by Sunday I was bored of the whole palarva and went to Haldon cycling after a monumental 7lbs of poo before breakfast. Since the weekend has been written off waiting for new arrivals, I have returned to work, this sunny Monday morning, with the aim of really working on a decent bit of weight loss.

Bran flakes for breakfast, courtesy of the lovely Millie, arrive at my desk and yet, before I can even begin to tuck in (if tuck in be the appropriate phrase when dealing with what is essentially fibrous board with raisins chucked on top) I feel the familiar clenching of imminent weight loss and it's off to the exec office, sans flip-flops.

Well, it's only ten to nine, so it's fairly quiet and, after a modicum of deserved ribbing concerning the tardiness of Jim's delivery (although it is not actually due until Thursday, let us not forget), I get down to measuring my morning's dieting.

14st 1.5lbs. I rather fancy that the scales here measure a little lighter than those I keep at home. Anyway, things to do, weight to lose.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
There is a mini-meeting (perhaps a pre-meeting meeting, or even a pre-pre-meeting-meeting meeting?) going on in the exec office upon my return and, once mounted on the pedestal of slim, I find myself to be inconveniently close to the back of a client facing member of staff. I feel slightly awkward about being so close up behind a lady of the opposite sex and all that, but I need to get the data before I eat my bran flakes and I am getting pretty damned peckish now, so there is no room for coyness. 14st - a 1.5lb poo. Amazing work!

Alternate weight loss techniques

Well, I have spent the morning exercising. I start off with 3/4 hour's campanology, quickly followed by a couple of hours or so bombing down singletrack on my G-Spot and then a concerted hour of trail building at Haldon. Whilst this is a pretty standard Sunday, I feel that this sort of energy exertion will only serve to remove lbs whilst simultaneously reducing the production of poop.

This needs to be factored in to my calculations. If the only true path to weight loss is through enormous number twos then I need to pursue a more sedentary lifestyle.

That said, the crêpe van at the Ranger's Office did furnish me with some splendid organic elderflower presse and a splendid ham, egg and cheese crêpe.

Quicky!

Got to run as The Geniu is here to take me cycling, but I just popped in for a quick wee and ended up weighing 14st 4lbs before my poo and 14st after.

That's a further 4lb poo (equalling existing records) and 7lbs so far this morning, far exceeding previous days' scores.

Blimey!

Getting portly.

Jim is having contractions still, but less regularly, so I can avoid the situation at least long enough to have a quick poo. As I'm tipping the scales (10% is considered the norm locally) at 14st 7lbs I am hoping for a goodun' this morning.
=================
I am having a poo
=================
Well, it's a bouncing (well, maybe not bouncing) 3lber. Back to my ideal weight just in time to toddle off to church for a quick peel. We've got a confirmation on Thursday, so I need to keep my arm in.

It's Prince Philip's birthday today, so what better time to have a quick perusal of the flow charts to date (that is, they chart my flow, they aren't those nice little diagrams that Staff Sergeants leave above the kettle to remind young Gunners how to make tea, oh no).



Well, I was going to try and tie a correlation between weight gain and weekends, but Benji has just turned up to take me cycling, so it turns out that I can't be arsed after all.

Baby induced poopage?

I naturally shy away from any suggestion that I have any sort of physiological response to stress, but I am hard pressed to otherwise explain away my need for a second poo whilst the clock is still hovering around the area of noon.

Either way, my Chocolate Wheetos have brought me back up to my ideal weight of 14st 4lbs, so I am off for a bit of a weight loss session à la bathroom dieting.
=================
I am having a poo
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14st 2lbs and the contractions seem to have slowed down a bit, although not a whole lot. 5lbs of poo before the sun is fully risen is a dieting breakthrough the likes of which is unprecedented and the weight loss capabilities of childbirth, whilst well documented for the mother, are showing to be paternally favourable also.

Possible problems?

Jim appears to be having contractions ever 2-3 minutes now. I wonder, do they have scales readily available in the hospital? I feel sure they must - I wouldn't want to miss a weighing just because she needs to give birth.

Also I left my tea too long and it's tepid.

I always hate that, just warm enough that I drink it and don't enjoy it.

Early morning excursioning.

I stir in my pit, slothsome and wretched, fumble for the light and fail. Water. Light. The unhappy memory that I gave up smoking more than 6 years ago amputating another avenue of joy from my morning ritual, as it does every morning. I rise.

My gut growls and twists. My throat is raw. I crawl around my the now-enormous stomach which is snoozing on the side nearer the door, drop from the bed and, after a few failed trial runs, manage to attain a vertical stance with my feet very much at the lower end of my person. I stand.

For some time I remain upright, torn between the almost all encompassing desire to rejoin the slumbering Jim in the now legendary land of nod and the physical necessity of evacuating my bowels. Unhappily I drag my back foot forward. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I walk.

Realisation.

Dressing quickly I point the children in the vague direction of a box of Wheetos and struggle aboard Beauchamp and force my way through the front door and into a world of halogen pain. The transition from pavement to street takes some negotiating, but once I gain momentum inertia works with me and I arrive at Boots without major incident.

Boots is closed. I have left my telephone on the bedside bookshelf and have no idea what time it is, so I head for St Thomas to consult the ancient timepiece installed in the tower. The clock tells of twenty minutes before nine. How it comes to be that I am abroad so early I have no idea, but there it is. I return to the high street pharmacist. I wait.

My stomach is beginning to seriously knot now. I need to stop the pain, but I cannot yet find release. The doors open to allow a staff member to enter and I am told of two minutes. Another shelf stacker arrives and the doors do not close behind him. Urchins are shooed away from the automatic doors so as to allow their closure and locking. There is further talk of two minutes. Two minutes which will become a popular mantra of the guardian of the store.

A street cleaner arrives. He is a campanologist at St Thomas and a genial fellow. We chat a while and discuss tomorrow's Eucharist and this afternoon's wedding. A young couple in what my father would certainly have described as a hairdresser's car arrive and walk to the doors. With great chagrin I watch as the portal opens to allow them to enter. No wonder they are so smug, if the world treats them like this so often. I imagine that they are visiting for the Chlamydia screening which is proudly advertised on hoardings around the store. I search.

I am not shy and, when immediate perusals bear no fruit, I ask a plump, happy, smile of a woman in an ill-fitting uniform whether there is a stock of bathroom scales and where, should this prove to be the case, I might find these items. Two minutes later and I am pedalling homeward. It is becoming touch and go as to whether I will have time to use them.

Pull tab from battery compartment. Replace cover. Set slider to 'St', 'Lb' or 'Kg'. St. Saint weight. Tap the centre of the scales, on I jump. 14st 4lbs. No time to consider this, I veritably flee to the throne room.
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I am having a poo
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I am reading 'The Greatest Man Who Ever Lived'. My knees sport red discs of elbow pressure marks. Relief.

I return to my new-bought scales, discarded on the dining room parquet, and find that I am now 14st 1lb. A 3lb poo which took half an hour to arrange, but at least now I will not have to use the facilities in The Range tomorrow.

It's not even a very nice set of scales. Also, my charts are starting to look somewhat nocturnal.

SWEETCORN!

Well, a little earlier than is my custom, I make my way gingerly into the exec office, smack bang midway through the exec meeting. Well, poop waits for no man and, with a nod to the Financial Director in response to her comments on the fact that it is Friday.

Up onto the scales I pop and weight in at 13st 12.4lbs, which is far from distressing, and then bid the fair FD bon chance and bugger off to visit Ivor.
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I am having a poo
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Well, back I toddle to the exec office, where the the scales are, as previously discussed, inconveniently located to find that I am now a mere 13lbs 10.25lbs.



I appear to be over half a stone under weight now, and have lost nearly 2 stone - I rather fancy that the Poo yourself slim dieting technique might be a winner.

Who wants to buy the book rights?

Time to show off the T-Shirt.

Mr Dagnall, bless his socks, has given me a splendid T-shirt, which perfectly encapsulates the ethos of my weight loss programme, that is helping you lose weight through substantial pooping.

It should be noted that The T-shirt came before the project, rather than being inspired by it.

Anyway, on with the weight loss. I weigh in at a slightly too light 14st 3.5lbs and am off to visit Ivor, right now.
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I am having a poo.
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And back to the scales I trot.
14st 0.25lbs. A 3.25lb turd. Can't argue with that now, can we?

Marvellous.

Free Yorkies!

The girls from Stanley are giving things to the builders and what are those things? They are Yorkies!

Yay for Yorkies!

I asked and they threw one up to me at my window, but refuse to do the same for the Tapp, which was pleasing. They enquired as to my profession, 'Whatdjadothenlike?' to which I replied to the effect that I had that most sexy of roles, the programmer.

Clearly the chav handbook is a little out of date, since the immediate response this produced was '£10 for a photo?'. I can assure any reader who might erstwhile have been considering joining the trade, that software development does not pay so well that one can afford to squander the price of two pub lunches on a picture of a dodgy bint, whether she has Yorkies to share or not.

I took my shot for free and bid them farewell, returning to the kitchen to ponder the poo-enhancing properties of a Yorkie. They are not for girls, you know.

I have a new-found respect for Bran Flakes

Two poos in a day again - my diet goes from strength to strength. If I keep pooing at this rate I shall be 6lbs 4oz by Christmas. This is a bit of an emergency run, so I'l off to weigh myself at the trot.
14st 4.5lbs. Off to visit Ivor we go!
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I am having a poo.
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14st 2.5lbs, that's another 2lbs of poop, meaning that I have managed a full 4.5lbs of poop already today.

I am unsure as to whether this counts as a better day than the Golden 4lber of May, but I am far from unimpressed with my colon's achievements.

Weight gains countered through the power of poop

The true purpose of this exercise is to perfect the new dieting technique known as scatology dieting. Fun and games aside, we are trying to achieve weight loss through sizeable turds. Today is a black day for our charts.

I weigh myself in at 14st 6.5lbs. This is the heaviest I have been since I began charting my weight and, whilst it holds some hope for a gargantuan poop, it is with my head down that I take the slow walk through the publishing department and off to visit Ivor.


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I am having a poo
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I come out of the cubicle veritably whistling to myself. It was large enough to give me hope, although, deep in my heart I know I shall be lucky to get back down to 200lbs even. My 4lb poop last month was a freak occurrence and I am under no illusion as to the chances of a repeat performance.
Dropping my shoes off at my desk, I head back to the MD's office to discover my fate.

14st 4lbs - it was a 2.5lb my whippy. None too shoddy, but the behemothic proportions of my mass have taken the sheen from today's toilet trip.

And after the office girl bought me Bran flakes for breakfast as well. I don't know.

Communal curling

I normally poop alone, but by pure coincidence the lavatory today featured two friends evacuating their bodies in a similar fashion. Things began in the normal embarrassed silence which generally accompanies humans defecating, but after a particularly acoustic fart from young Rowan, things descended into ribald jeering.

I am not certain, but the accountant from our neighbouring office may well have been more uncomfortable than a Welsh Dresser in a chipboard factory.

Anyway, down to details. I weighed in at a whopping 14st 4lbs before my visit to the now legendary little boy's room, and returned a triumphant 14st 2.25lbs, having jettisoned a splendid 1.75lb Yule log from my undercarriage.

Splendid stuff.

Crapper designs

I was sent a link to a nice little diatribe entitled you know what i hate? irresponsibly placed toilet paper dispensers today, and I have to say I agree.

The problems here are, however, at the other end of the bog roll positioning spectrum. In the normal cubicles there is no problem at all, but there are only two stalls, so I often (more than once a week) find myself in the disable cubicle.

Given that the convenience is supposedly designed with the mobility challenged individual in mind, the placement of the arse wipe is incredulous. With the arm rest in place it is almost impossible for an able bodied Adonis like myself to reach, so I can hardly imagine what it must be like for those who, perhaps through some war wound or freak accident involving 2 cats and a hedge trimmer, are bereft of a limb or two.

It's Two Poop Monday!

Yes, that's right - It's quarter past five and I need another poo. The weight must be literally falling off me now. I weigh in at 14st 4.75lbs.
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I am having a poo
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Oooh! 14st 3.75lbs - that makes today a 3lb of poop day. And they said my dieting technique would never work.

I was just accused by our MD (in who's office the scales live) of showing anorexic tendencies. Bollocks. When I look in the mirror and see a fat man it is because there is a fat man looking in the mirror.

Of course, you will now have noticed that I have, momentarily at least, surpassed my ideal weight, so I had better cut down on the beer for a couple of days, eh?

High expectations.

After a weekend of debauchery, including many fried meals and more beer than I would normally consider to be safe, I have high hopes for a repeat of yesterday's unmeasured behemoth. I am weighing in at an enormous 14st 4lbs, so there's plenty of excess to shake off. Here goes:
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I am having a poo
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Oh dear, 14st 2lbs. It's only a 2lb turd. This is not the way to achieve my ideal weight at all.

A few weeks ago I would have been happy with a 2lber, but I have trained myself up for my dieting regime and I was hoping for a 3lb+ marvel.

Never mind, I'll get that plotted now and get on with some work.

Stag weekend let-down

Shit! loads of it, and no scales.

I got what we scientists refer to as 'proper shitfaced' last night and this morning's offering evaded measurement. It was of a capacity which extended far above the water in the toilet, so I am reckoning it is about a 3lber if not more.

I have not only missed a day, which from a dieting perspective, ruins my data-stream, but also missed out on recording what is possibly the largest emission I have ever had. After this enormous personal evacuation had passed unrecorded I was left feeling utterly hollow.

Public poops

After a quick fiddle with the digital scales, it became very apparent that, in my hungover state, there was no understanding the damned things, so it was a matter of swiftly setting up a manual dial and weighing myself. I felt a little self conscious emptying my pockets in the aisle, but to hell with it, this is science.

14st 2lbs, not too bad. PDA Time.
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I am having a poo
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Back to the scales aisle. I had to leave the child under the watchful eyes of sales staff whilst I made use of their (frankly shoddy) conveniences and I feel a little cheeky using their scales when I have no intention of purchasing them at all.

14st - a two pound poop at the weekend. Time to go drinking again, you'll have to wait until tomorrow before I plot this on the charts, but hey, whose poop diet is this anyway?

Apparatus collection.

Well, to date my weight loss activities have been limited to the workplace, but that lacks for consistency, so I felt it was time to buy some bathroom scales to install, chez Manley.

With this in mind, the eldest offspring and I journeyed out into the wondrous Aladdin's cave that is 'The Range'. Joy of joys, there is a veritable Cornu Copiae of scales to choose from and, with my 20% discount voucher from the Exeter Times clenched in my grubby mitt, there is nothing that can hold me back. Or is there?

Alas, the scales are beyond me. The range at The Range includes manual scales, digital scales, manual scales with digital displays, digital scales with small electrical pads which fry my feet and tell me my body fat content, scales with small processors which store my poo-poundage history and a bread board which looks a bit like scales through the eyes of My Lordship, half way through Tinium's stag weekend.

Added to this is the fact that they all declare me to be wildly different weights, but I manage to select a set which, whilst aesthetically abhorrent, seem to work in a manner I can understand without being too costly.

Unfortunately, when I finally reach the front of the queue, my scales turn out to be £20 more than advertised (someone had put them in the wrong box) and there is nothing which can convince the girl on the desk to let me have them on the cheap. Time is running out and I need to get this poop out of me and back to the stag weekend.

Children say the darnedest things, but this time her idea was a blinder. To the shop conveniences!

My ideal weight.

Looking around tintermawebs, I find various different calculators for ideal weights. Generally these work on averages based on my age, height and sex and generally I get told that I, as a 6'2" 32 year old man, should weigh between 195lbs -> 205lbs, with odd aberrations ranging from 187lbs -> 220lbs.

I have chosen to go with the Health Central calculator because it takes into account my frame size.

Working on the basis that, when I wrap my thumb and major fingers around the smallest part of my wrist, the fingers barely touch (and I have big hands, ladies!) I get an ideal weight range of 190lbs -> 209lbs. For graphing purposes I have chosen to say that I need to be <200lbs and will thus use the 200lb mark as my base level.

The results are very informative.

It appears that my pre-poop weight is almost exactly proportional to my poop size.

Does pizza make for big poops?

I am a little nervous about this morning's delivery.
I'm 13st 13.5lbs pre-poop and I worry that I won't have enough reserves for a really top class dump.
I am certainly not looking to match yesterday's 4lb magnificence, but I have become accustomed to >1lb turds now and it is a trend which I am going to have to maintain if my dieting programme is going to remain a success.
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I am having a poo.
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12st 12.5lb a 1lb poop. All is still on track.
My task for today is to discover what my ideal weight should be, so as to monitor my weight loss in terms of +- ideal weight or BMI and turd weights.

Thank you Adam for the splendid Pizza and for the 1lb brown fish it produced.