Ben Sloot

You tell yourself “it’ll never happen to me.”

But then you come back from spending quality time with the baby lookin’ like #fatmac.

I love my gym. I can’t get motivated to kick my own ass, but I’ll redline myself to not be embarrassed in a group workout. Notice that I didn’t say be the best… at this point in my life I’m happy to finish a workout in the “middle of the pack” to “not dead last.”

Then #chuck was born. I thought when we returned from the hospital I’d have more time, but she came 10 days early and we lacked our final preparations.

We got home from the hospital and I felt comfortable with skipping a few days at the gym… a few days became a few weeks. I assume you can guess that a few weeks became a few months.

2 points:

• Somehow I simultaneously got lighter and fatter at the same time. I get it. I lost muscle and gained fat, but my body recomposed itself pretty fucking quick while the scale dropped (at least initially).
• I spent such a long period away from the gym that I can no longer just pop back in and meet my “not dead last” criteria, so I now need to work out just to prepare myself to return the gym.

What a fat piece of shit… Guess I gotta dig up that Rocky IV soundtrack again to limit the damage.

Wonder if someone already took the vanity license plates for DadBod.