What’s the sad thing that links most people transitioning from their twenties to thirties, have recently acquired their first child, are getting tired of their job, are emotionally unsatisfied, or have suffered a recent and serious injury? Fat. That’s right, we got a wicked case of “the bummers” (I do believe you’ll get your ass kicked sayin’ that ’round these parts), drank a bit too much, called Domino’s, and two days to thirty-four months later… we’re fatter (to varying degrees). Although, you may not be quite as large I am these days.
Personally, I am not just fat, but fat AGAIN. Without going into too much detail, I recently reminisced about my various weights over the years (we’ll say from 16 to present day) and realized that I’ve been on a fatty roller coaster. After sustaining a torn ACL while playing lacrosse, I lost the use of my right leg for a time, took a few pain killers, and dug eating in front of the T.V. It was the beginning of the end, as Churchill said. After that, I went to college to party, eat fast food, and avoid exercise at all costs, resulting in ballooning up to 275 pounds (see helpful before-and-after graphic below). After I met my darling wife, we got our act together. Over the next three years, and culminating in our marriage, I got myself down to 178 pounds (a weight hadn’t seen since 14 or 15 years of age). Jesus.
To make a long story short, we got pregnant (for a long time) and had our beautiful boy, Garrett Hunter. He is great. He is perfect. We couldn’t hope for anything better in a healthy child! Simultaneously, he’s the bane of our existence and has driven us to drink (delicious, calorie-dense, craft beer) for close to a year and a half. Beer leads to pizza leads to Ben n’ Jerry’s, leads to mimosas and hollandaise, leads to current predicament. Shit.
Fortunately, after hitting “rock bottom” for probably the fourth time since he was born, my wife and I are dedicated (we’ll see…) to a new lifestyle. All of this being a parent thing, especially as Garrett’s mental growth really starts to kick into high gear, leads me to realize something about this new diet: it has to be forever and it can’t just be a diet.
If I want to be the man I want to be, it has to start now. I’m not just talking about diet and exercise, although that’s pretty important as we grow older (I don’t know how elastic my skin is going to stay, so stretch marks might be more or less permanent); I’m talking about how to comport myself as an ideal father, a Superman-esque husband, a good citizen, responsible son and brother, and member of our world. In the immediate, I’m telling myself things like, “Don’t go back for seconds,” “choose the six-inch, not the foot-long,” and, “get your ass out of bed, you’re fat and need a good self-flagellation session at the gym.” However, I’m also starting to tell myself things like, “Watch your language,” “behave the way you’d like to see Garrett behave,” and, “think about them first.”
I’ll admit that I’m 33, which to me feels like way too much beyond 25. However, plenty of people still call me a kid (boyish good looks, I suppose), so this blog could either strike you as profound or mind-numbingly obvious, stupid, melodramatic or blown-out-of-proportion (if that was your genuine reaction, I just sent robot spiders to wait for you under your bed, asshole); either way, I’m curious for your reaction and look forward to receiving support in not only getting back to ultra-sexy mode, but also to become the person my family needs me and all of us to be.
Thanks for reading,
P.S. All of us to be? Can you even picture that? A world full of people who were confident in themselves, physically capable, healthy and responsible? What would an America like that look like? An entire planet? Maybe a lot of the bullshit that we currently deal with would just sort of fade away.