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Did any guys out there find it disturbing how hard your wife (or girlfriend) stared at the TV during the Super Bowl commercial when David Beckham was running around in his underwear?
I would like to be able to say that made me go into our bonus room and start doing some curls of my own but in my depressed, Peyton-is-losing state I just kept eating my chips and dip and did absolutely nothing.
I’ve found it disturbing how unmotivated I am to workout. Summer will be here soon. That means pools and the beach.
Before those factors alone have been all the motivation I’ve needed.
Is this post-marriage syndrome? Have I fallen in the trap of “letting myself go” after marriage? Like the “freshman 15” in college.
If anyone has any suggestions on how to buck that trend I think I am in dire need of some suggestions.
I can see myself 10 years from now: I’ve packed on another 75 pounds and am right at 300 pounds. I’ll be complaining about my knees hurting as I throw down my 10th donut and my belly will poke out too far for my shirt to cover so it will just hang out of the bottom. I’ll have fried chicken grease stuck in my un-groomed beard and Holly will be looking for an underwear model.
I throw some blame on the newspaper. I have learned that I am a stress eater. Once, when Holly and I got in an argument, I threw down a dozen glazed donuts without blinking or realizing what I had done. What better place to add stress than a deadline-driven, work-never-stops job like a newspaper?
My predicament is obviously the newspaper’s fault. I wonder if ObamaCare will pay to have my stomach stapled and file it under worker’s compensation?
I hope you aren’t a first-time reader and know my sense of humor a little. I am not serious about that last part.
But I do wonder how to combat the marriage weight trap. I don’t know if that is what they call it – but that is the name I am going with.
I suppose you would say that I am supposed to take personal responsibility. Go lift weights, be disciplined with my diet and run up snow-covered mountains in Russia like Rocky Balboa. Chug down raw eggs and throw hard body shots to racks of meat.
The problem is I’ll throw the eggs in the skillet, the meat on the grill and turn the snow into ice cream.
It’s time to find some motivation.
-Josh Peterson is the editor of the Manchester Times. He is a Tennessee Press Association award-winning writer and photographer. His column, “From the editor’s desk” won TPA first-place honors for best personal humor column. He can be reached by email at firstname.lastname@example.org or by telephone at 931-728-7577 ext. 105. Follow him on Twitter @joshpeterson29