Let’s face it. The sympathy weight is no myth.
As a 31 year old man, I am once again afraid to step on a scale. I haven’t been scared to step on a scale since returning from 30 days of leave while I was in the Marine Corps. I’ve always been on the heavy side (teetering on my max allowed weight in the Marine Corps), and even on the heavier side as a civilian, but I’ve never hit over 300 lbs.
And that’s where I’m scared I’m at.
GRANTED… I am 6’5″, so it’s not like I look like Black Santa… but I can definitely feel that I’ve put on some lbs.
(How did we even get “lbs” from pounds?” Just a question)
I can feel it in my ankles. I can feel it in my knees. I can feel it the tightening of my pants and shorts, in the shortness of breath, in the tightness in my shirts. And the fucked up part about it is, I KNOW I’VE PUT ON WEIGHT. I don’t need to step on a scale to know this. My tits look like my wife’s at this point. So why haven’t I done anything about it?
Seriously? Why haven’t I?
Well like any other person who vows to make a life change, I hit these barriers (which I’ve learned while doing homework, is a legitimate psychological term) that always seem to just keep me just way too busy; things like cleaning up what seems to be an endless amount of dog shit (literally, I have no fucking clue how these dogs shit so much), car maintenance, 4-6 hours of homework practically every day, not to mention it seems like every time I log into my class there’s a surprise paper to write or a pop quiz posted. Don’t forget the never ending housework, yard work, making dinner, taking care of bills, baby shit, yada yada yada…
It’s never ending.
And I tell myself, “I’ll wake up early to go for a little run.” Nope. After falling asleep at 12-1 am, waking up at 4:30-5 to get some type of work out in and then going through any collective variance of the above mentioned chores, is almost impossible. I tell myself, I’ll go for a run RIGHT when I get home, and then on those days for some reason, I don’t get home till 6, just to have to start on my daily home chores then homework.
I don’t know how I used to do it. I’ve lost my motivation. But I ultimately feel my motivation at the same time.
I do know this. I want to be able to hang with my little kiddo, instead of being tired all the time. I know I want to live as long as physically possible to be around for my family. Even as I sit here and write, I think to myself I could be out doing something, but I’ve been literally working all day on the nursery and re-wiring the baby’s bathroom.
See what I mean? I’m aware that’s an excuse. But it’s very real as well. I have a problem.
Plus I really really love food.
Like really love food.
It’s not like I eat all the time. In fact, I don’t even believe I’m eating more than I normally did prior to knowing their was a growing embryo inside my wife. I really can’t pin point what it is… but I do know this. I need to stop putting other shit in front of my health. I need to stop making excuses, and I need to take back control of my life.
I also need a maid and a gardener. Yeah… I think that would really make this happen.
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Posted in Dissapointment, Fear, Getting Ready, Those Odd moments...with 10 comments.