235

I stepped out of the shower the other day and decided to take a few moments to admire myself in the mirror. (stop laughing) First I looked at my chest, shoulders and arms. I still have better than average shoulders. They are broad and strong in appearance, not huge or well defined, just reasonably big and solid with muscles. My arms are not cut like they used to be, but they also are still solid and muscular. Larger than average biceps, strong solid lower arms, noticeable front deltoids, and hands that are strong and callused from use over the years of working with them. My chest is only a shadow of its former self, but even then its still perky and solid, no gravity affected zones as of yet. For a person of my age who doesn't exercise outside of work and daily chores, I am pretty happy with the state of these things. Next, I look down to my legs. My legs look now just as they always have. They are not the legs of a runner, nor are they the legs of a body builder or a power lifter. They are not cut or defined but they are rock solid. No jiggles here, no flab, no waste to be spotted. My thighs are packed tight with muscles and my lower legs are actually a little too small in appearance by comparison to the upper leg. They are a bit hairy but other than that they would look decent in a skirt. Now that brings me to the rest of me. I should use some caution here for both our sakes and be more specific, the rest of me in reference is below the chest and above the waist. I am not going to openly discuss any other attributes at this time. Anyway, that area below the chest and above the waist is what now has my attention as I have exited the shower and gaze at my physic in the mirror. My reaction to this midrift section of my body is as follows:

"what the.............................."

What has happened here? I have a large 'splot' of furry mashed potatoes hanging loosely below my chest and gravity is threatening to pull it below my waistline. When I turn sideways in the mirror I look like I am pregnant and about to birth the worlds largest loaded baked spud. Pregnant women are sexy, in my opinion, but pregnant men, that's a different issue. I spun around to take a peek from the rear and even my back has become a gravity afflicted zone. Hairy flopper's and hangers on back there as well. At this point I need something to boost my ego a little so I let my eyes wander a little farther south and look at my butt. I have always had a small and flat butt by comparison to the rest of me and I was a little happy to find it was still there, but it has grown its own tomato patch of wild hair.

So, I have discovered two things about myself in the post shower exploratory. One, I need some serious hair removal done. I need to bathe in Nair or something. Upon further examination, I have some serious hair issues, hairy ears, hairy nose, hairy legs, hairy belly, really hairy back and that's not even mentioning the butt forest I just found. This issue I can solve in a few hours with a razor, some tweezers, wax, and a yoga lesson. Issue number two, mashed potato removal is going to take a while. I am at the heaviest weight of my life. I checked in at 235 lbs. The biggest problem with that is that I am carrying it entirely around my middle. I have weighed between 200 and 215 for over 20 years so this is new territory for me. Uncharted and lumpy territory. Its no wonder I cant breath and have no energy.

Now I need a goal and some motivation.

Goal, 200 lbs by next Tuesday. Okay, maybe a more realistic goal would be better. I want be at 200 lbs by my 40th birthday, that gives me till September.

Motivation: I want to be able to go the pool and be the "Phat Boooooooooooooyyyyyyyieee" instead of the bald hairy fat man. I want to walk past the 20 something crowd of bikini clad chickadees and have them look over their designer sunglasses with a little grin instead of wheezing up breakfast like a dog who just licked the dryer lint filter. I want the 30 somethings to follow me into the elevator instead of deciding now is a good time to try and take the stairs, in heals. I want the 40 somethings to look at me and sign because they think they must be too old for me already. I want the 50+ crowd to remember fondly the days of their youth. Okay, that's a bit shallow and unrealistic. That wont motivate me. I am happily married and don't really care what bikini clad Chiclets think anyway. And if I did, I am still going to be scary ugly, just thinner and scary ugly. So, lets try this again.
Real Motivation: I want to be able to run and play with Gracie without turning green, collapsing and dropping to my knees while Elvis leaves the building (Elvis has left the building is one of those colorful ways of saying vomit) I want to live long enough to meet my grandchildren, which means I need to reach at least 108 years old. I want to live long enough to get that flying car that the Jetsons promised me when I was 6. I want to be able to see Gracie graduate from college.

Now I need a plan.

This is simple. Less grease, more green. I am going green. No more fried bologna sandwiches at 10 pm. (butter both sides of the bread, toast one side of each piece in a skillet. Fry two eggs in same skillet, fry two bologna slices in same skillet, toss one slice of bread back in pan, put cheese on top of butter, next the egg, the bologna, 3 pickles, more cheese, other piece of bread, count to 10 and flip to melt cheese on other side.) Sit eat and enjoy, then go to bathroom cause' that sucker has an express ticket, she'll slide in the front door and out the back door in about 3 minutes, but its good.

Please also note that I have not included pictures in this entry. I think this is best for now, but I will be doing a before and after shot that I might post later. In order to stay legal, but be as honest as possible I must be wearing something. I am trying to decide between thong or jock strap, any preferences?