The 33rd Dimension

My parents recently came to see me and their grandchildren here in the US. My mom actually hadn’t laid eyes on me in a couple of years, so it was somewhat of a surprise to see me ~100 lbs lighter than the last time she had been here.

I will admit that I dressed up nicely to meet them at the airport, with some of my favourite jeans, a nice grey shirt, and some Golden Fox boots that I recently picked up to make me stand out a little more. As I was getting dressed that day I started to think to myself how my life has changed since I stopped being a fatass and made positive changes in my life. Before, my only concern when it came to clothes was “will this fit me?”, “does it come in 2X/3X?”. The actual look of something was almost completely irrelevant, and as a result I largely looked like a clown during my entire 20s.

Now though, things are different. I’m actually able to start being interested in fashion, and buy clothes that look good on me, rather than having to settle for the only thing on the rack that I can fit into. I remember when I was buying clothes for my wife’s memorial service, I had to go to three stores before I could find a pair of 46″ trousers that would accommodate my bulk. Today I have a 33″ waist, and by the end of the year it will probably be 31-32″; hell, I’ll actually need a belt to keep my jeans from falling down around my ankles, which will be a somewhat surreal fact in itself.

I can’t help but linger on the time I wasted, since basically my entire 20s were full of gluttony, food, and dodging cameras.

I’m never going to be a male model. My body has been ravaged by the years of neglect that I fostered upon it, to the point where I may need to consider loose skin removal surgery in the future if I ever want to get in a position where I can be shirtless during the summer months and not look terrible. For now I’ll continue to lift my weights, eat clean, and hope that over time it will tighten up naturally – at least a little. At the end of the day if that’s the price I have to pay for all the years of shitty living, then that’s how it is.

I do sometimes think about the numbers. I mean, there’s a lot of fat people out there (this is America after all, land of the fat, home of the fast food), and whilst I’m sure many of them swear to change (especially around the end of the year), that they are going to lose weight and keep it off, I dare say the number that actually do that is very small. I don’t mean to break my arm patting myself on the back, but I did what I said I was going to do. Anyone can say they’re going to do something, but then you actually have to follow through and do it. I did that – and I’m proud of myself for it. Then it hits you… “what next?”

I guess that’s something I need to figure out.


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