I had the great misfortune earlier of seeing a photograph of myself from a few weeks ago taken at a near-profile. Egad.
My girth looked greater than that of Henry VIII at the height of his gouty excesses.
I looked like a human globe topped by a tiny little head with a bad haircut. My size in the picture was positively scary in its roly-polyness. I knew I was heavier than I ought to be but holy crap, why didn’t anyone tell me it was that profound? I guess it’s an awkward thing to talk about.
When my wife is standing next to me, we must look like Jabba the Hut and Princess Leia.
Okay, maybe not that bad. But it was a pretty significant blow to my ego.
Well, I’m going on a short trip for the next few days so it’s kind of useless to try and start any sort of weight loss program right before that. When I get back, though, I need to rededicate myself to an exercise and diet regimen. And maybe look into liposuction.
In my house now I have to pass through facing mirrored doors on my way to or from the bathroom. This isn’t good. At night I’ll be passing through wearing underwear and t-shirt. Sweet Jesus. I don’t know who the hell that fat old guy is but I wish he’d get out of my house.