I've been noticing that I seem to be slowing down lately.
I come home from my usual walkabouts sweaty and out of breath, when ordinarily I wouldn't even break a sweat. A walk to my corner store can wear me out on a bad day. I seem to be feeling the heat more than normal as well...
I noticed yesterday, as I was getting ready for my friend's dad's funeral, that neither my suit jacket nor dress pants fit. "Must have shrunk 'em in the wash..." I thought. Took me a second to remember - I always had these dry-cleaned...
The long-and-short of it is: I'm getting fat.
Three years ago, when I was promoted from Warehouse Manager to Inside Sales, I weighed 180lbs. After three years at a desk job, I'm tipping the scales at 225lbs.
Forty-five fucking pounds in three years.
I mentioned the weight gain to my pal "Miz P" while walking back from a Sandbox outing, and her jaw dropped... and further still when I mentioned my hypertension...
At that point, I told myself I'd "look into" dieting.
Monday, it became less an option and more a necessity. Monday, I found out that the aforementioned friend's dad had been felled by a massive heart attack.
This got me thinking. Many of the men in my family, some of whom were overweight (but not obese per se), have died from some form of heart trouble - heart attacks, strokes, angina, arrythmia, etc, and heart disease and Diabetes run in my dad's family... so I have a rather large incentive to get my weight (and my health) in proper order.
Guess I've finally opened my eyes. Knee-jerk reaction? You bet. But better safe than sorry.
The diet started Monday, the fitness regimen starts tomorrow at the company golf tournament (not taking a cart!).