Well, here we are. Day freakin’ Zero. The moment of truth. The beginning of my public health spiral in reverse.
Tomorrow morning at 4:30am, I begin the 100 Days of Not Being a Fat Ass challenge.
Step one: strip away the lies, the oversized hoodies, and the strategic camera angles.
Step two: embrace public shame like it’s a warm, judgmental hug from the internet.
Step three: Put in the work for the next 100 days.
Behold: The Current State of the Dad Bod
Behold: The Current State of the Dad Bod
(But first… a warning.)
Viewer discretion advised. These images may cause nausea, spontaneous gym memberships, or deep existential dread. If you value your appetite or your faith in humanity, scroll cautiously.
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WAIT—wrong pic.
Sorry. That’s not me. That’s just how I feel inside.
Okay, for real this time.
Here’s the actual “before” gallery, in all its unfiltered, CPAP-strapped, dad-bodied glory:
Left Side
Back
Right Side
CPAP Life
Front
The Cold, Hard, Embarrassing Numbers
| Measurement | Value |
|---|---|
| Weight | 275.0 lbs |
| Body Fat % | 38.3% |
| Height | 6’0″ |
| BMI | 37.3 (Yeah, it’s bad) |
| BMR | 2032 kcal/day |
| Chest | 46.77 inches |
| Waist | 48.34 inches |
| Hips | 43.38 inches |
| Thigh | 25.27 in (R) / 24.17 in (L) |
| Bicep | 15.23 in (R) / 14.88 in (L) |
| Testosterone | TBD |
| A1C | 5.9 (Metabolic Syndrome Status) |
| Total Cholesterol | 203 |
| LDL | 143 |
| HDL | 37 |
| Triglycerides | 114 |
| Sex Drive (1–10) | 2 (somewhere between “asleep” and “missing persons report”) |
| T-Shirt Size | XXL (I feel like I’m in tent mode) |
What the Cold, Hard Numbers Really Say
Alright, so here’s the truth behind the stats. You don’t need a doctor to interpret this—you just need a mirror and a little honesty (and maybe a defibrillator).
- Weight: 275 lbs.
This is NFL lineman territory… without the paycheck, glory, or bone density. Just the jiggle and the back pain. - Body Fat: 38.3%
That means almost two out of every five pounds on me is fat. I’m basically wearing a human-weighted blanket… from the inside. - Height: 6’0″
Which makes it even worse—can’t blame being short for the high BMI. Just ran out of excuses. - BMI: 37.3 (Obese Class II)
When your BMI chart stops being color-coded and just flashes red, you know you’re in the danger zone. - BMR: 2032 kcal/day
That’s what I burn doing absolutely nothing. Which, coincidentally, is what I’ve been doing a lot of lately. - Chest/Waist/Hips: 46.77 / 48.34 / 43.38 inches
Built like a melted action figure. The waist is bigger than the chest. Not a great look unless you’re trying to cosplay as a pear. - Thighs & Biceps
Right side’s bigger—guess I am right-handed. Or just lopsided from years of holding snacks in one hand and shame in the other. - Testosterone: TBD
Probably low. Feels low. Like “I cried during a Swiffer commercial” low. - A1C: 5.9
Danger close. Technically still “not diabetic,” but this is the yellow warning light blinking before the check engine light kicks on. - LDL: 143 / HDL: 37 / Triglycerides: 114
LDL is creeping up. HDL is way too low. Triglycerides aren’t awful, but the whole cholesterol picture says “pre-heart attack starter pack.” - Sex Drive: 2/10
Hovering somewhere between “hibernating” and “comatose.” When I’m healthier, this’ll come back. Right now, I just want a nap. - T-Shirt Size: XXL (tent mode)
It fits, but it doesn’t flatter. This isn’t clothes—it’s damage control.
The Tell of The Tape
These numbers don’t just say “fat.” They say slowing down, inflammation, hormonal collapse, and early grave if you don’t fix this now. But they also say you’re strong under the fluff, you’re not broken, and you’ve still got time to turn this ship around.
This is the version of me that let the comfort win. The next version? He’s gonna make this chart weep.
The Brutal Truth
I’ve been living like mirrors owe me money—avoiding them at all costs. But today? No more ducking. I’m putting my shame on display like a side show at the circus. Step right up, folks. Roast me while you can. Screenshot this disaster. Use it as your “before” for inspiration. Hell, make memes—I probably deserve it.
But here’s the thing: this is rock bottom, and that’s a damn good place to build a foundation.
I’m not doing this for abs (though that’d be dope). I’m doing this to feel alive again, to show up better for my family, and maybe, maybe, to recognize the guy in the mirror again.
So if you’re watching this and feeling smug—good. Take your shots now. I’ll be unrecognizable in 100 days.
Snacks are dead to me. The couch is an enemy combatant. Let’s see what happens when I stop BS-ing and start sweating.
Let the humiliation-fueled redemption arc begin.
Drew Karriker is a self-proclaimed professional tinkerer, self-experimentation enthusiast, and lifelong learner with an inability to sit still. A former nuclear engineer turned DevOps architect, he’s built a career (and a life) out of breaking things, fixing them, and then making them better.
Despite wrestling with ADHD, anxiety, and an unrelenting need to optimize everything, he transformed his career and life in just a few years—not because he’s special, but because he figured out how to turn obsession into execution. Now, he’s doing it again—publicly—one 100-day challenge at a time.
His past projects? Some were successes. Some flopped spectacularly. Each one left him a little wiser (and probably a little more caffeinated). Now, he’s on a mission to document his transformation—mind, body, career, and everything in between—so that others might pick up a thing or two along the way. Or at the very least, be entertained by the chaos.
Follow along at RewiredWithDrew.com and get inspired, get motivated, or just grab some popcorn and enjoy the ride.