I turned thirty yesterday. 30. Three times ten. For three decades I have been around, and I want to be around for at least a few more.
Some men go crazy and want to buy a Ferrari when they hit a certain age (usually forty or fifty), but I recently shaved off all my facial hair and realized that there's more of me hanging around than there was ten years ago. I checked the scales and yeah, too many cheeseburgers and frozen pizzas over the past six years have taken their toll.
There's the Freshman Fifteen people put on when they got to college, but I put the Married Million after Jennifer and I said "I do."
At least that's how I feel when I look in the mirror lately. And I don't want people saying those bald faced lies like, "Oh you look fine," and "You're healthy as a horse." Because the fact is, yeah I probably hide my weight okay and during my last medical screening yeah, I was pretty healthy. Actually, surprisingly healthy.
But I know better. This isn't me. Somewhere inside, there's me, but there's all this extra padding that I didn't buy at a sporting goods store and I'm ready to shed it.
What's this have to do with being a parent? Well, I want to be around to see my daughter graduate from High School and College, and, God willing, see my grandkids, great grandkids, and if modern medicine can keep putting synthetic parts into my husk of a body at the age of 102, thus making me into the Darth Vader look-a-like I've always dreamed I'd become, maybe I'd get to see my great-great-grandchildren. That'd be great. Uhm... that'd be wonderful.
So, I'm starting to work out, get myself back in shape. About six months ago I easily shed some weight, and now I need to do it again and keep it off. Yeah, this time its time to get in shape.
Cue the "Gonna Fly Now" and all other Rocky training montages. I'm gonna shape up this year.
If for nobody else, for my kid. And future baby brothers and sisters to be named later?
