About The Funk...

Observational Spittle from the mind of a man of color in his 40s, without the color added (most times). Come in, laugh, and you may learn something...

90 Things That Irritate The Sh** Out Of Me Trailer

Sunday, December 4, 2016

Cellulite and Life

My co-worker told me the other day that I write "books" when I post my thoughts on FB.

I have a lot to say sometimes, my fellow sufferer in government employment, but since I have either pissed off friends and or family members (and my wife is busy getting her ass kicked at work during the weekends) I have no where else to release my many thoughts.

Weekend is complete and I, like millions of others until we get put back into a recession after 1/20/17, are getting our souls bandaged up as we return to work.

I write tonight to discuss a very important subject with the few who bother to read my postings...

...being a fat slob.

Whenever I look at pictures of my 16-year-old self (the young male that my wife said she would never look at because I was too damned skinny for her tastes) I wonder if I could ever get the gumption to be that guy (well, not exactly; that guy aged 31 years and the skin simply isn't that tight no mo').

Sleep apnea which isn't helped by a well-overdue needed to be replaced c-pap machine doesn't allow me much in the way of REM sleep. Assuming that I get my old schedule back of 11:15 to 8, I could simply get up early 3 times a week and begin to work out...if my wife with the bad knees and back can actually go with me, since it is her membership. Despite the release of my creditors via legal means, I still owe other things (and people) monthly payments where I cannot swing a membership on my own.

Oh, and despite my 200+ blood sugar measurements in the last few months, I simply am not motivated.

But I should be. An associate (who only gets a hold of me when she needs something...my wife knows whom I speak of) whose parent passed on from diabetes-related complication had I believe 1 to 2 fake legs (can't remember).

He also didn't give a shit about his health.

Over the last few weeks I have heard horror stories of lost feet and legs due to diabetes.

You would think that should scare me to at least change my diet, right?

Have you seen the cost of health food? Shit, it'd be cheaper to put away money for my funeral that is probably coming 15 years earlier than I'd like.

I remembered once upon a time when I was all muscle and my younger sibling was this skinny thing that I could punk out.

Now he probably has like 5% body fat and can bike from VA to...Cuba, probably. In like a day with breaks. I have been jealous of him a lot over the years, since he has the confidence and motivation to where it has put him where he is today.

Me? My old friend's daughter once asked me if I was having a baby.

Kid, it hurts when I poop due to leafy veggies and spicy mexican @ 3 AM. I couldn't push out a kid (which is why women outlive men; they are simply built better).

So I am a fatty (as my uncle, who can be somewhat of a dick sometimes, pointed out to me over turkey week when he asked me to suck in my gut so he can get a picture). When I look at myself in the morning, I see a little bit of the old me in there. At 47 with about 2 years of dedication I probably could drop the 60 lbs (don't want to drop below 200, even tho I should be about 180 based on my height) I need to get rid of to extend my life...until C and I can no longer afford our health insurance and die of a paper cut.

A smart woman from AZ I once went to college with (who has aged spectacularly well; she has taken care of herself...Gene, you are a lucky SOB) said I shouldnot measure myself against what people show to the outside world.

There is a validity to that point.

But when you see either the best acting job in history or true happiness in that "outside", well....that's hard.

Parts of me (the one that likes to make people laugh, or give advice to those who respect my opinion) I do honestly like...even thought if what my mother said is true is dooming to hell. A lot of me though...the beaten soul part, mostly...not so much. I tire of the "rah-rah" stuff that folks send to me, even though I know they mean well. I will tell you a little secret though, as I look at the clock and know that I have to take my fatty self to bed.

Yeah, I need more money. I need to lose the weight, which of course requires motivation (walking is free and I have a spaz of a dog that would assist). I wish instead of folks offering advice they would listen more...not just to me and my rantings, but to their fellow human being.

But what I really want?

To get up tomorrow (god willing), take a deep breath and say, "Everything is OK."

You know, before being fat eventually kills me.

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