Everything's caught up with me. The pandemic, whereby I haven't worked out properly in a gym (until Friday) in 16-7 months. My addiction to added sugar and all the goddamn pop I buy and drink, especially these last several months. My parents being home and doing the fucking smothering thing of making food for me and then making me eat that food, for dinner during the week and, unless I go out and escape their clutches, lunch too. (Never mind -- lunch during the week too, with a damn banana and Mother's creation I have to eat every fucking day even though I can manage without it. Seriously, when are they going to fucking leave?) It's all adding up.
My wellness screening to keep my health insurance premiums as low as possible is next month. I also remember that in the past few physicals, my good cholesterol has been a bit on the low side and my bad cholesterol has been a bit on the high side. It's not terrible, but it's not in the optimal range, and after my diet and exercise regimen (or lack thereof), I know it could not have improved.
But shit, man, I have one month to change course. Look myself in the mirror, tell myself I'm going to get healthier. Work out more, eat less, eat better (Henry Rollins said that in a speech I heard him give once). Get the HDL up and the LDL down, and maybe that fucking gut will disappear. I can do it. For my body's sake, and my wallet's sake, I have to.
But ... let me first eat these Dot's new Baked Cheese Curls with roasted garlic hummus while working on this very blog post first -- washed down with Pepsi, of course. And I'll have that late-night snack just before I go to bed. (But I'm not going to drink the whole Pepsi, oh-no. Just a few swigs -- who do you think I am, a pig?) And wait: I have to work second shift next week. Well, that means that I have to buy subs to eat for dinner, and I need pop to go with that, too! So, I'll start doing better, uh, two weeks from now. That's good enough -- right?
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