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February 09, 2007

Putting the DIE in DIET!

11keithrichards Sorry I've been so remiss here at DadCentric, fellas.  I just realized that I haven't posted over here in months.  I thought if I just kept e-mailing all of you those naked cheerleader photos, you'd cut me some slack.  It's just that whole life/work/family/health thing has been kicking my ass lately.  But damn, it's good to be back... 

As I've mentioned here before, I've recently been on a new health kick. I've realized that, at the age of 38, my body has got a lot of mileage on it and that if I don't do something soon (like shoot formaldehyde into my arms like Keith Richards,) I'm going to be too far away from the beach to swim back. 

What set this off?  Was it the fact that I was getting tired carrying the kid on my shoulders for a few city blocks?  Was it when I noticed that climbing the subway steps at the Times Square station was getting a little harder and harder? 

No, I think it was a few months ago when I looked through my wife's photo album and found pictures of her with another man.

A man whose jawline had definition.  A man with washboard abs and buns made of steel.  A man who didn't need to suck in his gut a little like Hasselhoff in a public sauna. 

Suddenly, as I continued to gaze at the photo, I realized that devilishly handsome and fit guy in the photo with my wife was in fact ME!  I used to be in great shape. What the fuck happened? 

I'll tell you what happened.  I got married and had a kid.  That's what happened.  I realize now that all those years of working out were not to maintain my health.  Those hours were put in by sheer vanity and the hopes of attracting a mate.  After I found my beautiful soul mate, I basically started letting myself go. 

After all---who has time to work out when you're newly married?  The year after my wife and I got married, the only activities we did in the apartment were have sex and eat.  We'd go on Amazon and buy KY Jelly and a deep fryer.  At one point, I think we subsisted on hot dogs for an entire month. A few months after that, we lived off Popeyes fried chicken.

Surprisingly it wasn't then that I started to gain weight.  It was only after my wife got pregnant that I discovered I was growing a little pot belly.  Everyone always talks about the struggles women have to lose weight after birth.  But nobody ever talks about the dads!  To this day, I don't know ONE dad who didn't gain weight while his wife was pregnant!

So what do I do?  I hate going to the gym.  Like I said, who has the time?  Besides, all the machinery is too damn complicated.  There's nothing quite as humiliating as finishing a 30-minute workout only to have the instructor tell you you've been sitting on it backward. 

Pilates?  Jogging?  Swimming?  Yeah, right!

Now, I do a bunch of different activities.  I walk the 2.5 miles home from my office.  I jump on the mountain bike to run errands around town.  I play tennis every other week.  And I recently bought one of those Precor elliptical machines that I've planted in front of the TV.  Shit, at my age, you do whatever you can. 

I've also changed my diet and eliminated all carbs.  I'm eating a lot of chicken and fish.  I'm fucking drowning in chicken and fish.  I'm almost ready to take Dave Attell's advice just to mix things up:  "What's the best thing to eat?  Chicken and fish.  Why not combine the two and eat penguin?  A penguin's a little bit of both, isn't he?  He's a bird, yet he swims, he's a buffet of good health!"

I'll let you know how it works out.  So far, I haven't figured out how to get the fuckers out of the Central Park Zoo. 

Meanwhile, please tell me I'm not the only dad out there who gained weight with his pregnant wife?  But whereas she was able to shoot out a pumpkin and lose weight by breastfeeding, I'm still stuck here with my little pot belly! 


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