Round is No Way to Live Your Dreams

I have always known that I am not indestructible.

I figure that if almost a decade of a really wrong marriage and the divorce process didn’t kill me, I had a pretty good shot at surviving almost anything.

I also did that family gene thing, realizing I come from pretty hardy stock that lives well into old age in spite of obesity, alcoholism, and general functional insanity.

I have gained and lost weight over the years. I lose when I want to look good in clothes and when I am stressing. I gain at every other time. Seldom have I cared about either.

I never cared. There is a certain amount of shame that men don’t have when it comes to being overweight. We buy bigger clothes, we laugh that our girth is symbolic of the good life; we still get sweated by women. Honestly, we don’t care.

By and large, (no pun intended), people who have issues with our, ah, expansion don’t faze us. I have yet to meet the person with whom I’d trade lives. Most guys who have a healthy sense of self esteem are in the same boat. Perhaps this self acceptance is a part of what attracts women, many of whom are overly self critical, to us. Who knows?

I know this: the fat thang just ain’t cool no more. It wasn’t the divorce. I was skinny when I married and large when I filed for divorce. More women flocked when I was the latter.

Too many men are approaching 40 and cheating themselves out of happiness with people who truly matter. The people who will accept you for who you are, but know the best that you are capable of achieving. It’s bigger than your jacket size. When someone can tell you, selflessly, that they are interested in you being around for the long haul because you’re “their person”, think. The code of honor that always included practical honesty, sharing and support suddenly needs to include some self concern as well. It is license to get a bit selfish and get that time in the gym. It is permission to put ourselves first for this good cause.


I know many of you are relying, as I did, on the ol’ gene pool, which, honestly, is a pretty good benchmark of your lifespan.

It’s like my mother told me recently, though, when I argued that people in our family die at 85/90 weighing in over 300. “Yeah, they lived a long life, but what was their quality of life? Were those lives worth living?”

No one addresses why men gain weight. Few books are devoted to the stress that causes us to blow up. It is not a popular daytime talk topic to discuss how men, when working a couple of jobs, helping with the kids, and trying to be everything for everyone, find the solace in sitting and watching ball as opposed to playing it. Fewer books still want to discuss how those few beers here and there that help us wind down when the kids are gone for the weekend add up…especially between long work hours, bad food and sitting around the house because we’re so tired.

We know better, though. We have reached a point in our lives where we have learned circumstances we thought were life ending are just speed bumps. We are starting to master the juggling act that is who we have to be, who we are supposed to be and who we want to be. We are starting to chase our dreams and make the most of our realities.

We are smarter than we have ever been.

It is time to have our health match our intelligence.

Again, we know better. It’s time for us to want and to do better. This is all on us.