Sunday, November 11, 2012

Fat and Fatter

Have you ever reached a point in your life when you realize that you are entirely too fat? I reached that point several weeks ago when I grew out of my fat pants.

My regular clothes got too tight a while back, so I bought a few articles of “fat” clothing to tide me over until I got back to my healthy weight and was able to wear my regular clothes again. I avoided the scale, the doctor and the mirror, and everything was going fine. Then one day I realized that my “fat” clothes weren’t fitting so good either. So now I need to get a second batch of “fatter” clothes, making my “fat” clothes my new regular clothes, and my real regular clothes just a distant memory.

A lady from work was talking to me in my cubicle and noticed some of the pictures I had on my desk, particularly one of my wife and I when we were dating.

“Who's that with your wife?” she asked.

“Me!” I said.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Seriously, who is it? Why do you have a picture of your wife and one of her exes?”

“No, it's me!”

Wow,” she said, looking back and forth between me and the picture. “I mean, you were so thin. I don't even recognize you. You don't even look like yourself.”

I didn't mean to get fat. What happened was when I got married, I gained some weight. I was happy and comfortable and I knew that my wife loved me. More importantly, I knew that she was stuck with me, barring some sort of legal action on her part. However, it didn't take long to realize that I was getting heavier, so I started exercising again and watching what I ate and I was getting back on track.

That all ended when Junior was born. Those first six months were a struggle to survive, and any free time I got, I collapsed into an exhausted heap and passed out. Now he sleeps through the night, but his days are pure danger. Having a 16-month-old is like someone setting off a small bomb in your house every single day. Her spends every minute of every day trying to destroy us, his surroundings and himself. I spend every spare second saying things like: “Don't touch that!” or “Don't put that in your mouth!” or “In the two seconds my back was turned, how did you get all of the trash out of the trash can and spread all over the living room floor?”

This is my life now. When am I supposed to have time to exercise? I suppose I could strap him to my back and go running like Luke and Yoda in The Empire Strikes Back.

But I don't see that happening.

Any suggestions on how to get fit with a baby in the picture? Or just fit in general? Leave a comment, I beg you.