Baby weight.

I’ve gained about twenty pounds since our little bucket of angel tears was born.

I used to commute to work, most days, by bicycle. I live 7 miles from work. Riding a bike to work in is like entering a cheat code into life. Your metabolism gets a huge boost first thing in the morning. Between that and a physically demanding job, I could eat like a pig and fear no chub.

Now I don’t work very much. When I do work, I usually drive… I always drive. I keep saying that this week I’ll ride in. It’s been six months since that has happened. If I drive to work, I get to procrastinate for twenty extra minutes before I leave the house. I’d like to see you try to justify leaving early to better yourself when you have a cooing cherub squirming around on the floor.

My diet hasn’t been adjusted to reflect my new state of lethargy. I should probably stop eating doughnuts every day, but I can’t imagine living in that world. I knew I had let it go too far when my mom arrived for a visit and the first thing she did was pinch my belly and ask, “What is this?”. My thighs rub together now; it’s super uncomfortable.

My wife bounced back to her pre-pregnancy weight nearly immediately. She is a tough act to follow. Living with someone who has an iron will has its downsides. She tells me I just have a “dad bod” now. She makes a healthy lunch for work. I subsist off sugar and fat. We have one of those blenders you have to take out a loan to buy; we used to use it to make super healthy smoothies. I’m too lazy to do that now. Yes, I’m too fatigued to put some produce in a blender and turn it on. I keep promising that I will get back in the habit, but I just can’t get my act together.

We’re going to fit The Squish for a helmet soon, so this problem will be solved by a few weeks of pulling him in a bicycle trailer. I can’t wait. I look forward to my pants fitting again.

Sweating while typing,
Clinton, a.k.a. Too sexy for this gut