What I weigh is not important except that I could crush a 6th grader if I wasn't careful. What's important is my man boobs are sufficiently alluring to where checking them out with glimpses in the mirror thinking 'Hey, who's the hot chick?' is both shameful and mildly disturbing. Add to that the badunkadunk in the trunk and I'm not sure whether to do the Beyonce booty dance or go fix-slash-break stuff. Therefore: The Weight Loss Blog.
Yesterday I spent some time at the Belle Isle Park tennis practice wall (till I lost both balls, and no). Then I Zumba'd. Yes, dammit. Wasn't intentional, long story, and you would definitely have paid to see it. I'm 45 and tired of my belly having more of a social life than me.
So every time I do something weight loss-y you'll know about it. Yeah, I know, big whoop, but Oprah's retired, so you need someone to inspire you now.
I'm not going to track weight, I'm going to track feelings. Yesterday I felt powerful for having chosen to get off my ass, and fun for being the only dude besides the instructor shaking what his mama gave him in a small room of sweaty ladies. Please know that I dance like the character Elaine did on that one 'Seinfeld' episode(youtube 'Elaine Seinfeld Dance')so getting up and Zumba-ing is, like, worthy of the Congressional Medal of Honor.
Today I will do one-armed push ups in my dreams, but will more likely do a couple crunches, maybe some free weights, and y'know, finish off the Wife's blueberry pie (for the sake of morality, not a sexual euphemism).
Weight loss ain't for everybody, just the sexy people!