A few months after the Peanut was born, I wrote a post about MY pregnancy weight. The post was appropriately called "Hey, Dude. Do my tits look bigger to you?". Essentially, it chronicled the fact that I had gained over 15 pounds during the BossLady's pregnancy and the ensuing few months after the Peanut's birth. As it turns out, I wasn't the only new father to experience this phenomenon so I didn't pay it much mind, figuring the weight would magically disappear after a few months.
Well, a little while ago, I noticed that the BossLady had lost all of her pregnancy weight but that I was still stuck with all of mine. I'm 6' tall so I can carry a little extra weight but now when I'm sitting on the can, I find myself fascinated by this new little pot-belly friend of mine. We're relatively unaccustomed to one another so I like jiggling him every once in a while to see how he'll react. I haven't named him yet but I'm leaning towards "Hector" because I think that's a fun name for a pot belly.
Anyway, with the Peanut's 1st birthday coming up, I decided that it was time to take drastic action. Now, for those of you who don't know me, I'm one of those people who doesn't do anything half-assed. So rather than gently ease into a new fitness regime, I went charging in headfirst. Starting about a month ago, I cut out all carbs from my diet, limited my caloric intake and began working out like a madman. I've been hitting the gym about 5 times per week and not only logging some serious miles but also lifting weights as well. I've quit coffee and drink about a gallon of green tea per day. And if I eat any more skinless chicken, I'm going to start clucking.
I definitely do feel better. So far, I've lost about 8 pounds. And my body is starting to regain lean muscle mass and definition. But guess what? Hector's not fucking going anywhere! It's like he's decided that my body is the perfect host environment. We're like two gunslingers in the middle of a standoff. I feel like a landlord trying to get rid of a deadbeat tenant who doesn't pay rent and sits on his ass all day drinking beer. Regardless, there just ain't enough room in town for the both of us so one of us is going to have to leave.
I just hope it's him and not me.
And by the way, is it me or are we all getting older? And just when exactly did that start happening? I never got any notices in the mail. Did you? What the fuck? I feel like I fell asleep by the pool at the age of 25 but woke up and noticed that I was almost 40. Anyone else feeling me out there? Shit, I'm hungry. I haven't crapped in like three days. I think I'd kill for a slice of pizza. Or a big-ass juicy burger. Fuck you, Hector! You hear me? Get the hell out of my house!
Phew. Ok. I'm done now. I think my blood sugar dropped there for a minute. But I can't be the only parent or new dad out there struggling to get back into pre-progeny shape, can I? What's the deal, people? Will I make it back to shore or am I too far away from the beach? Because ever since the Peanut was born, I feel like my metabolism has ground to a complete halt. Why should the BossLady's pregnancy affect ME like that? Was it all the breast milk I drank?