Well here we are at day two of being back on track and to tell the truth I’m a little sore from day one. I stopped at my new gym on my way home for a much needed workout. Although the gym stinks literally and equiptmentally I had a decent workout but, I am paying for my long absence from the gym today. Mr. No Game said that I am already starting to look better! That’s support if I ever heard it!
Support is a great thing to have. Help is a great thing to have when you need it. But when do you need it? What if you need it but you don’t know it? I didn’t need anyone to tell me that I was putting on a little weight but maybe if Mr. No Game had said to me a couple months ago that my ass was starting to get a bit giggly, then I might be better prepared for bathing suit season. More likely my feelings would have been hurt and I would have felt bad about myself and then gotten mad at Mr. No Game when he was only trying to help. No one wants to hear about their short comings. And what’s a little weight gain? I still wear a single digit pant size. I would have eventually gotten myself back to the gym but what if I had gotten really fat, so fat that I could no longer fit in a movie theater seat. But I would hope someone would say something before I had to start shopping in special stores or even before I had to start wearing stretch pants and oversized t-shirts everywhere. Wait a minute maybe he has hinted to me…he’s been saying for a while now that he’d like to start eating better and exercising more. He’s actually lost some wait in the last couple months now that tennis season is on full swing. Perhaps he meant I should eat better and exercise more. Tricky.
Maybe I’ll try that approach…
“Hey I think I’ll stop wearing diarrhea yellow pants because I don’t want to look ridiculous anymore.”
“I’m gonna stop talking with my mouth full of food so I don’t make the people I’m talking to gag.”
“Maybe I should stop drinking so my baby isn’t born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.” That one will be less subtle since I’m not pregnant.
“I think I’ll stop getting my hair highlighted at Supercuts so I don’t look like a hooker from the 80’s anymore.”
I think this might work.