Today is my 32nd birthday. 32 times (or so) around the sun, 11,687 days (give or take). And as I come to the realization that I’m older (even though it doesn’t feel like it), I’ve come to another realization as well.
I’m fat. I’m not going to candy-coat it with the word “overweight” because the harsh reality of it is that I weigh too much, and it’s entirely my fault. I haven’t even stepped on a scale in at least the last 6 months, because I’ve been trying to avoid this realization.
So: Beginning on December 1st (because I know myself, and there’s no way I can start this plan before Thanksgiving), I’m going back on a diet. Probably Weight Watchers to start with, and maybe South Beach if I’m not losing weight consistently enough. I’m also going to start exercising a minimum of 3 times a week. I’m horrendously out of shape, so I’ll have to start with walking at first, but (and I know this is almost a cliche phrase for anyone starting this kind of thing) I’m serious about it this time.
For my beautiful wife and potential children (once we start having kids), who don’t need a husband or father dead from a heart attack at 40. For my wallet, which honestly doesn’t need the drain of supporting a 280+ pound human, with all of the shit food that I eat on a regular basis, the breakfat tacos and sandwiches on the way to work instead of a good home-cooked omelette because I’m too lazy to wake up an extra 30 minutes early, the lunches at restaurants because I’m not thinking far enough ahead to pre-prep meals, either for cooking at home or for bento to bring with me to work, the dinners that I eat out because I don’t feel like cooking even though all of the ingredients are already in the fridge adn/or pantry. For my body, because it shouldn’t have had to carry around the extra 100 pounds it’s currently shackled with (and has been for far too long): my ankles hurt all the time, I get winded climbing up a flight of stairs, my back aches, and my GERD certainly isn’t getting any better. But most of all, for me. Because I’m tired of looking in the mirror at my fat self every day. Tired of feeling run-down all the time. Tired of deciding to not attend events because of the potential physical activity required. Tired of the coughing fits after eating because of my acid reflux. Tired of limping into the shower every morning because my heels hurt. Tired of resizing clothing patterns because I’m 6-8 inches bigger than “extra large”. Tired of paying more for the fabric needed to make those clothes that I’ve had to resize. And tired of having the low self-esteem that I seem to have shackled myself with after my initial “Freshman 15 40″ (which also gives you a clue as to how long I’ve been fat).
Having started on this path in the past, and failed several times, I know that this won’t be an easy goal to achieve. But I’m sure that with the love and help of my family and friends, a lot of determination, and a good low-fat cookbook or two, I’ll be able to get the weight off this time, and keep it off.
And who knows? With all the Egg McMuffins I’m not going to be buying any more, I may finally be able to save up and buy that new laptop I’ve wanted for the last year or two.