Down the hill and back over it

Next month I will be turning 40 and I thought I was still looking pretty good until a chain of unrelated events led me to re-evaluate and take some drastic measures. Let me give you a brief outline…
Event #1- My darling six year old daughter is going through a phase where she thinks she’s a talk show host. She loves to steal my phone when I’m not paying attention and record little video segments. After one of her make-shift commentaries, I found the following video on my phone…

Whaaaatt? “fat and selfish?” I can deal with selfish, because that’s probably an accurate assessment… but FAT? Oh my god, is it possible that I’m not thin and adorable like I think? I’m totally fine with her thinking I’ve never had a boyfriend (only Vic, as she points out). I don’t parade a bunch of guys in front of her. You never know what kind of freaks are lurking around out there. I’ve heard horror stories of deviants targeting single moms just to get to their children. I can’t run the risk of some sex pervert thinking my kid is hotter than me. Thus, all potential boyfriend candidates are put through a rigorous screening process. Understandably, only one has made the cut.

Event #2- I was knocked down a few pegs by a younger dude I thought was into me. I’m usually fairly adept at determining whether or not someone digs me. My instincts were off this time… probably all that fat messing with my equilibrium. I’m sure the hot piece of ass he selected over me isn’t as fat and selfish as I am. Or she’s 25.

Event #3- There’s a cart guy at work with Down’s syndrome who is potentially my #1 fan. EVER. After two years of seeing me five days a week, he still thinks my name is ‘Jan’, but I’m cool with that. There are plenty of guys out there who don’t know my name… or that I have a head. Guys love boobs, Down’s syndrome or not. That’s a fact… Google it. One day in the break room, my special friend informed me that I’m “really going downhill”. Oh… for the love of God! It’s that apparent to EVERYONE, I guess.

Clearly, I needed to do something about this. The only type of guy incapable of telling a lie had just called me out on the carpet. It was time to take action. I started with my diet. I was pretty much eating something from the cake family at every meal. I love cake, what can I say? They used to have cake day when I worked for the Cavaliers, and there was actually a celebratory cake dance. I went cold turkey my friends. No more cake, cookies, candy… nothing at all with more than 5 grams of sugar. It started to work immediately, and I’m much less of a spazz. I also cut out white bread, pasta and white rice. That shit was making me doughy. I also read a Cleveland Clinic study that attributed diet Pepsi consumption to an increased risk of stroke. Well, that would have been helpful to know a year and a half ago BEFORE the artery exploded at the base of my brain. Needless to say, I’m not hankering for another one of those.

I joined the Y and started going at least four days a week. My objective is to be able to bounce quarters off my ass by my birthday. I’m already down 12 pounds in 6 weeks and I feel more confident than I have in a really long time. I’m not saying I’ll be able to get my bikini contest body back, but I don’t want to be that chick whose only option is sweatpants or anything else made from a stretchy cotton blend. Regardless whether anyone sees my bangin’ new body or not… I’m the one who needs to be happy with it anyways. Good thing I’m so selfish.


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About the Broad

A humorous look at dating in your mid-thirties and the other hilarious things that happen around us on a daily basis.

April 2012
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