As many of you may know, I am currently on a serious motherhumping health kick. (I haven't eaten cheese in ten weeks.) There are many obvious benefits to this health kick: I look better, I feel better, I fuck better, and I may even be adding years to my life. However, there are downsides to everything in this (as EE Cummings once wrote) “dumdam slamslum sloppidy” world. So, because I like both sides of the coin to be represented in my quest for whatever the hell I'm questing for on The Nate Way, I am now outlining for you some of the shittier side effects of getting in shape.

Now, this isn't dedicated to the obvious shit (like how much health food sucks and how heavy weights are), but to the side effects of being on a diet and working out. It's not all peaches and saline implants, you know.

I worked long and hard developing one of the finer alcohol tolerances in the free world. Hangovers never held me back from anything. Not anymore. There's something about being in good shape that causes one's body to reject the notion of alcohol consumption. I think it has to do with the fact that my body can't go two ways at once. In other words, I can't simultaneously be on health kick and a drinking binge at the same time without my body reacting like I shot a speed ball. Anyway, my hangovers are killing me. What used to be a mild nuisance is now a marching band in my head.

Before I started working out, my bowel movements were ten to twenty minute affairs. I would use the time to read, contemplate new writing ideas and plot the assassinations of various world leaders. Not anymore. Thanks to working out, my craps take about two minutes. Also, they're not the size they used to be. I used to take craps bigger than your face and I was proud. Now, my craps are about the size of your nose. And equally as hard. And I am not proud.

I eat six to eight times a day: small, healthy meals. And I'm always hungry. I've never eaten as often as I'm eating now. And I'm always hungry. And I'm losing weight. Have I mentioned that I'm always hungry? Damn I'm hungry.

My dreams used to be the shit. In my dreams, I'm a badass Ninja racecar driver who can make love to women in mid air while deep frying bananas. Since I started working out, my dreams have become banal. In my dreams now, I go to Popeye's Chicken and eat, or I drive my car to work, or I ride a bicycle to the beach. Fucking boring. I mean, life is boring enough, right? If I can't be exciting in my dreams, where the hell can I be exciting?

Now, working out and dieting may be getting me laid by hotter chicks, and it certainly makes me feel better about myself, but it's fucking with my appetite, bowel movements, binge drinking and dreams. So maybe it's better just to be a fat slob.

At least I'd still get to occasionally be a Ninja.

Ninja's kick ass.