Scared to My Senses

I was scared to my senses--a wake-up call, if you will--when I stepped onto the scale this morning.

I bought a nice digital scale with the intention of keeping track of my weight. But if I didn't step on that scale, I didn't have to face my problem. And I haven't faced my problem for months.

When the display blinked 184.5, I suddenly felt sick. I wondered how I could let myself gain so much weight and not notice it. "I just feel bloated. I'm not really fat," I always reason.

Wrong. Dead wrong. I am not just bloated. I am overweight--if not outright fat.

My beautiful wife deserves better than this. I need to take care of myself... for her, if not for me.

I need to do something. Seriously. Now.

The first plans of action are to up my workouts from two half-hour sessions per week to five one-hour sessions, and go on a serious diet. Fruit and salads, here I come!