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I’m a recovering fat boy from days gone by.

The perimeter and circumference of my waist is a lot smaller these days, and I no longer sweat on relatively cool days, but my life still feels like I’m losing ground. I feel like I’m letting the fat boy take control of my life once again.

I need to set a trap. It’s a battle I must win.

Looking back I don’t ever remember a time when I was not in some way addicted to sweet tantalizing food stuff of one variety or another, (celery excluded).

I’m beginning to piece together how it all started and how to understand myself better. I only eat healthy when I run out of other options.

The only time lettuce ever enters the picture is when it inadvertently gets stuck between two buns, and is mushed together with some meat, and all the other ingredients. I also take a healthy option like Sushi, and indulge at the nearest all you can eat buffet, and like a degenerate gambler, I try win all my money back.

The life of a fat boy is not easy. Not to mention how hard it is to find loose fitting pants.

I’m an emotional eater.

I eat for pleasure. I eat to feel something. To feel comfortable at the end of a long day. I long to be satisfied, and taste provides that. It’s instant. It’s gratifying, but I’m never satisfied.

It’s a most tasty addiction, but a horrible one.

I always have good intentions, but as they say the way to a buffet line is paved with good intentions.

Intentions have never served me well.

I’m not really sure why I’m sharing any of this, except that maybe you want to read it.

I’m not looking for any sympathy. Only a chance to share and be human.

I’m not looking to transform myself or recover the body of Adonis, buried and tied up somewhere deep inside of me. (The fat boy says he doesn’t know anything, but I think he’s lying).

I’m really a simple person.

I have simple dreams and a lot of work left to do to see them through.

Losing some weight is part of the journey.

I know what I have to do.

I know why I have to do it.

I know how I have to do it.

I just can’t do it.

Or it feels like that sometimes, anyhow.

Meal after meal, day after day, I eat what I want, not what I need.

But I’m not giving up.

I don’t write every morning to just give up or complain.

Today is a new day and it presents a new set of opportunities.

A chance to wrestle again.

A possibility to close my mouth again.

I can’t do everything in one day, but I can surely do something.

Today I admit to being a recovering fat boy and a fat boy I will always be.

But on the inside.

On the inside.

On the outside, I will be somebody else.

In time, you will see.

 

Cover photo generously provided by photographer Jorge Zapata via unsplash.com