Operation Dumbo Drop

So, for those who don't know me, and at this point, I don't think that is anyone yet (in which case, if you're reading this tell your friends!), I'm not what you would call a slender fellow. That isn't to say that I'll be carted through a hole cut through the side of my house when I die, either. I'm what most guys online would describe as an average build, which is what we all know as a smidge overweight.

I could do the normal thing which is to blame genetics or time or whatever but the truth of the matter is that I'm this way because of life choices. I have a job that although not behind a desk still consists of a lot of being stationary unless I'm otherwise actively exercising with a client. When not at work, I'm normally engaged in sedentary activities: watching TV, playing video games, or reading. The number one culprit, simply put, is that I like to eat. No matter what I look like (skinny, average, overweight) I'm a fat kid at heart. I like fat kid food. I like fast food, I like fine dining, I like home cooking, I like dives, I just like to taste things in general. I have a lifelong love affair with pork (Filipinos you know what I'm talking about); and my love of bacon isn't so much a love as it is a heroin addiction.

I have taken several approaches to my weight in the past. I have exercised with my classmates just as much as the next guy in PE. I wasn't one of the stragglers in the pack walking with the Latina chicks trying to get their make up not to run. I was to the back of the middle of the pack. I've taken the inevitability approach, stating, "Well, my parents are fat, why fight what time and genes are going to do anyway"? I've done the overzealous running thing on several occasions, doing too much too soon and having to quit due to shin splints, etc.

I've had several rock bottom moments that make me get back up on the exercise horse as well. Most of which are simply catching view of pictures of me from high school, and not remembering that I was ever not fat. I've had overzealous nights out where the aches in pains in the morning are indicative of much more vigorous activity. The worst of which would probably being sore after a game of home run derby style wiffle ball. The most recent was once again catching pictures of me in high school as I was looking for baby pictures with which to decorate my home for our holiday party.

So here's the challenge to myself, for the most part: I'm not giving up this time; I'm going to take the exercise part of my life seriously. In an effort to keep me honest, I've purchased a membership to the Arlington County fitness centers. To help make me feel like I'm not necessarily alone in this, I've agreed to keep in contact with my cousin about my efforts and vice versa. It's not exactly a "Biggest Loser" deal, but we both just need something to keep us motivated. Thirdly, and obviously, I'm blogging about it. Hopefully, there will be some kind of update each week.

I'm aware that I've just posted an old washblog casting aspursions on the fitness douche. I would like to point out that any attention called to myself (i.e. this blog) is sheerly for self-motivational purposes. I also don't go to one of those super gyms for people to look at me. On the contrary, I want to hide away just how out of shape I am until I feel confident enough to face the world. For now I will continue to work out at the county fitness center lifting with kindly octogenarians and fellow fitness enthusiasts not willing to shell out real money for a gym.