I’m a big guy. I could probably just end the post there and you would have all the relevant information, but instead I will rant for a while.

I am 6’2’ and typically weigh about 220 pounds but was trending upwards. 230 is the weight that I think new pants become a distinct possibility. This is also the weight that I start to think that maybe an entire bag of chips is a bit much after ice cream. I stop going out for burgers, don’t eat peanuts, and don’t eat as much at night and I drop back down to 220 and all is well. This plan has worked out well in life until recently. Two things have changed in my life: 1.) I have been called “large” in a few too many different situations, and 2.) my wife is on a big health kick.

The first reference to largeness was while driving with my wife. We decided to switch and let her drive for a while (minor miracle), and as she gets into the driver’s seat, she references how far back and down I have put the seat. “I feel like a small animal that has been mistakenly put in the elephant enclosure.” She tried to play down this insult but, there is no coming back from that statement. My family now refers to me with elephantesque labels.  My daughter thinks I need a back-up beeper for when I’m in the kitchen because I take up so much room. Nice, and your welcome for your college education.

The next time was when I was sitting at a volleyball match and the woman next to me just up and moved and politely said “I can’t see anything when I am sitting next to you, no offense.”  Which in this case meant, no offense you elephant like creature. There have been others as well. I never really thought of myself as that big before.

So now with my wife on a big health kick and “you’re an elephant like creature” fresh in my memory, I decided to join my wife in her latest fitness challenge. Serving sizes, body fat percentages, number of servings of fruits and vegetables, and cardio all are a part of my thoughts these days. I’m NOT a fan.

My wife eats this up like it’s her new chocolate cake, while I just want a “real” serving size of peanuts. I don’t even get the taste of peanuts in my mouth with just 15. (Has anyone really ever eaten just 15 peanuts?) The fact that I can’t read the serving size label without my reading glasses also pisses me off a bit. She thinks I will be excited to buy new smaller size clothes that I will look better in, I think my favorite old Mariners sweatshirt is a little too loose.  She thinks I should really enjoy running now, while I think I would still pull a hammy if I played basketball. The rewards of working out are much more geared to middle-aged women than middle-aged men. A new wardrobe and of course a splashy new haircut to go with it, as well as, chatting about my weight loss plan to all my friends holds no interest to me. What would motivate me to finish my workout is a 5 Guys burger and a whole bunch of those little dishes you get to fill with peanuts which I realize kind of defeats the point.

It’s no wonder there are always hot looking middle-aged woman at the gym and a bunch of men just trying not to look any worse.