After yesterday’s gut bomb of a chili burger, I decided that I need to take my health more seriously. I’m what some people would euphemistically describe as “fluffy”. I always thought that while I’m a bit overweight I’m not fat. Right. I looked up my body mass index (BMI) on the Centers for Disease Control website:
and I am obese. Crap. I’m 6 feet tall and, according to the CDC, my ideal weight should be between 136 and 184. 136? Are you kidding me? Even 184 seems low. I’m about 240. Yikes!

I decided to go for a jog for the first time this year. As I listened to iTunes, my plan was to jog to one song and then walk to the next, then jog, then walk. It wasn’t a bad plan as long as the jogging phase didn’t coincide with an acid fueled, 30 minute guitar solo from my 70’s collection. It didn’t, thank God. Everything went well until half way through my route I crossed paths with a 20 something shirtless adonis. As he coasted by I noticed his flesh didn’t even ripple. I looked like Jabba the Hutt on a pogo stick. I almost gave up there. But I didn’t.

It’s a common myth that men don’t have body issues. We do. It’s just not PC to talk about them. In fact, in my 46 years of life I’ve never been asked how I feel about my looks. No one, not even therapists, have ever asked me if I’m happy with my body. That’s good and bad. The good part is that corporate carpet baggers don’t exploit that vulnerability because they don’t think men will buy into it. Women get beat up every day. I feel for you ladies. The sad part is that you look a lot better then you realize. Unfortunately, complacency doesn’t sell shit. So you’re told you have to be: skinnier, prettier, healthier, etc. and “the stuff I’m selling will help you get there.” Oy. But I digress. Yes, men do have body issues and we’re not supposed to talk about them. That’s the downside.

However, part of my quest to be a better person is to be kinder to myself. So yeah, I’m a little hefty but you know what, I earned this body. It’s been put together through tragedy and triumph. It’s a kind of trophy. It reminds me of where I’ve come from and gives me hope for improvement. I mean, who wants to be perfect? There’s only one way to go from there. I, on the other hand, can look forward to losing weight and getting sexier (SEX-AY-errrrr). Yeah, baby.

I’m going to be honest and say, “I need to lose weight.” But in an effort to be a better me, I’m not going to beat myself up. I’m going to come up with a healthy plan – no New Year’s resolutions, no diets, no gym memberships – just exercise and good eats. Besides, I’ve stopped drinking. That’s one step towards a healthier me. I just need to keep going down that path.