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Wait, Weight?

My pal Gym.

By Art CreepsPublished 7 years ago 7 min read
On my way to the gym

The picture above is a selfie I took before the gym. I decided to take this picture, just so I could post it on my Instagram account. Maybe for some motivation .

Before the age of 33, I'd always been very thin. My maximum weight was about 170 pounds. I grew up not being very interested in food, I was active in my youth. Unless it was a fun snack such as candy or maybe pizza, food was more of a necessity.

In my early 20's I met an older woman at a Starbucks near my job. 7 years older. I couldn't tell. She had bent down to grab one of those boxed lunches. She had a very nice body and a beautiful face. I didn't hesitate to tell her how I felt. Luckily she enjoyed the next few minutes of our conversation and we exchanged numbers.

Marie was the first and only person to tell me that when I turned thirty my metabolism would slow down. And I'd start to gain weight. McDonald's every day for a month didn't kill me and it didn't make me gain a pound in my 20's.

My mother was skinny and tall, my father has an athletic build that he received from on and off prison stints.

There was no way I was going to get fat in my 30's.

I turned 30, I had been dating someone for 2 years and I began to think about my health more. I have a son as well and I started to imagine my woman or my young son laying on my chest and it being a bony pillow. Neither of them ever complained, but fast forwarding to 33, I realized I had hit 185.

When did this happen?

They always say when you are in a relationship you gain weight. I thought this was only true for women. When my son was born, I read an article about how fathers gain weight. Ultimately it stated it's because the child always has left overs and instead of throwing the food away the father eats the leftovers. Made sense I guess. I had definitely gained weight.

My girlfriend and I broke up a little after my 33rd birthday. I wasn't working and when I did find something somewhat permanent, it was a sales position. I was never a drinker and at the time I could count on one hand how many drinks I'd had to myself. That changed quick being single and being in sales.

I gave in and wanted to try everything. I had moved in to my best friend's place and besides drinking after work with my coworkers on the weekends my best friend and I would drink expensive beers and I'd experiment with different brands of whiskey.

6 months later I had hit 188.

Time went on, I was fired from 2 sales positions, and I had moved away from home to start a new position representing a fundraising company. Sales. Again. After work we drank and drank. I wasn't working out at all. Stayed away for 7 months. Missing my son and family and friends. Long story short the job sucked, I quit. I moved back home and was again unemployed for months. During this time I was at my mom's place. I got on the scale and it said 206.

My family began jokingly saying, "woo you are fat!" They could see it on my stomach. My face had gotten wider. I could see it.

I began to do push-ups and sit-ups every night. I couldn't afford to go to a gym. I began running around the neighborhood and it felt good but it was boring and I knew I wasn't doing it long enough. Maybe 15 minute runs or 10 minutes on the treadmill in the garage.

One of my aunts got me a membership to a gym. And my ex girlfriend had made her way back into my life. I had gotten a new job, I got my own place again, I was working again and was buying lots of food. I was eating real breakfasts, real lunches and full dinners.

I stuck to the gym for about 3 months. Got some definition, but got more comfortable in my new place, more comfortable with my new girlfriend who was once my ex. My son was 9, at this point so I thought we'd be more active. That wasn't a substitute for the gym at all.

Weekends turned back into long couch/bed sessions watching tv and movies. I'm sure we ordered pizza at least 15 of those weekends, or it was burgers, and nachos, cake and alcohol. Maybe a salad once a month out of guilt.

My girl stayed her beautiful thick self, maybe because she actually did go to the gymnasium and led an active lifestyle. My son gained some healthy weight, he had physical education and recess at school. I don't want to paint the picture like I'm a big huge sack, but my stomach got round. I used to have a six pack just from laughing. Now even if I suck my stomach in it just gets slightly smaller. I'm sure there's not a thought of my rounded plump chest and midsection being uncomfortable to lay on now.

But now at 210 and 6'3 I am attempting to define this 35 year old body. I saw a video of one of my favorite tv actors doing an obstacle course, and totally crushing it. I posted the video on social media and captioned it, "going to the gym right now."

A few months ago my grandmother called to tell me to come get these new shirts someone had given her for free because they worked at active apparel store. I got about four really nice "workout" shirts.

My aunt called a few months later to tell me she was no longer paying for my membership. So I pay for it now, which definitely pushes me to go more. 3 days in a row currently, my muscles are no longer sore after taking a day off. And I will return in a day or so.

The feeling I get at the gym is desperation though.

I feel very privileged to be there but also punished simultaneously. It's only a 5 minute drive from my home, yet I still have to force myself to go. And when I go I rush the sets and I am out of there in 45 minutes or less.

I don't understand the patrons who are there when I arrive and are there when I'm walking out past the front desk in shame hoping the girl behind the desk doesn't say, "leaving already?"

I pray for a back door or for there to be no one at the front desk. Of course it's all in my head but, I try to be invisible as I walk out. "'Til next time." I'm thinking.

Working out is a struggle for me. It's painful. My hands hurt from holding the grips and bars tightly as I'm finishing up the 2nd to last set. I'm constantly looking at the counter, trying to avoid eye contact of every attractive fit woman walking past or bending over at the water fountain. All the while hoping they see me pushing hard to the last set and hoping they are attracted to me, just so I can flirt, gain a contact but ultimately tell her "I'm in love. Sorry."

When I make it to my truck, and get over the anxiety of walking out of the gym and the anxiety of thinking I may have lost my keys or phone...I can barely lift the virtually weightless keys to the car door. How could I think I left my phone in the gym if the music is still blaring in my ears from the headphones attached to it, by the way?

Sitting at the steering wheel verbally "oohing, and ahhing" as I reverse from the stall and turning the wheel it feels like an extended workout with out power steering.

What will I do once I get home, more push-ups or a shower or slouch and watch tv, or do I eat? Why have I worked up such a sexual appetite? Why am I too tired as I walk through the door to handle that? Why'd it take 3 days to start this post?

Ultimately the gym is that friend that is available for you when you need it and wants to see you at your best. But it's hard to accept that I need this type of help I realize, being that I am not yet used to this heavier body. I am used to fitting through tight spots such as bushes in the parking lot or getting behind dressers or not having to have more room between my stomach and the steering wheel. I'm used to sucking in my stomach and seeing a fake 4 pack.

Getting larger though hasn't taken away my confidence at all. And I think people love this weight on me actually. But me being shallow somewhat and potentially vain, I will strive to utilize my friend the gym. I will drink lots of water, have salad, and shoot around the basketball with my son in the backyard. I will put a great body to this great confidence I already have by accepting the body I have now.

Time didn't do this to me. My denial and naive nature allowed it. By 36, I will be shirtless in the mirror. I will snap a pic and decide if I should post it on social media first or send it to my lady who is currently away for work.

fitnessaginghumanity

About the Creator

Art Creeps

Acceptor of failure, change and success. Lover of one woman and the future. A father of an intuitive young man. Writer, singer and I started a garden a month ago.

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