*Smack* Quit yer whining you pansy.
On the bright side, the job is getting me into better shape. I am averaging 6-10 miles of walking per shift, which averages to just under four miles a day for July. The lifting is building upper body strength I haven’t had for years. Besides, I now weigh about what I did as a senior in high school. Heck, I weigh fifteen pounds less than I did when I got married. More to the point, I am down 65 pounds from my weight when I started the Fat in Indiana blog. Who knew, I have ribs! I am far from starving third-world skinny, but my waistline is better. I am barely inside the ideal weight for men of my height. None of this prattle should be viewed as braggadocio, rather more a testament to portion control, medication side effects, and diabetic diet.
Since we are focusing on me, me, me today, it is interesting to note that Mother Nature has a sense of humor. Well into my thirties I still looked very young. I was regularly carded when buying beer. Now, I look probably ten years older than my real age. So it goes. I won’t dye my hair.
Outside of looming economic destruction and the potential loss of everything if I don’t find a real job soon, I am as happy as I have been in a very, very long time. The wife and I are getting along great and I am less stressed than I should be. I am blessed, and things will work according to God’s plan.
I know, anger and depression and diatribe make for way more interesting blog fodder. You get what you pay for.
I like this tune. Have a great Saturday.