Moments ago, I weighed in for the first morning of this fast. Though the fast kicked off more eight hours ago, what preceded it is now spoken in hallowed tones in the feasting hall of Valhalla. My wife gave a feast to literally end all feasts. You want barbecue? You got it. You want Taco Bell? Hey, there's that, too! Do you have a hankering for Pancho's Cheese Dip? Got that covered. Perhaps you want to tap into that top 1% Neanderthal DNA and just gotta gnaw on some beef jerky...bingo!

That meal alone ought to last a couple of days for me; no need to go hunting for awhile! This is the part on the nature show where I lay on the ground with a content face while my offspring poke me with sticks until I take a swat at them.

When I stepped up on that scale, the numbers were like me, a bit inflated. But hey, there's nothing but love here for that scale. I invested in a medical scale a couple years back because I've bought an armful of bathroom electronic scales at $40 a pop and they always turned out wonky. I may not like the number on the scale, but I know that if I got off the scale and hopped right back, there would be a +/- 3 lbs.

The great thing about having salt as a major driver of those numbers is for tomorrow's weigh in, that number is going to invoke 1987 and absolutely plummet like Black Monday. My personal best in losing weight from one morning to the next is 5 1/2 lbs. You can go and pencil in the win for me on that one. Of course, none of that is impressive. Like George Strait, it's Easy Come, Easy Go. That said, go ahead and cue the Scorpions into the queue, for 63 nights from now, I'll Rock You Like a Hurricane!