Rest In Peace, Fatty McButterpants

The other day while I'm getting ready, I notice my husband standing in the closet staring at his clothes with a rather bleak expression on his face. In total Brad-speak, he says "seriously Karen, we need to hit it." Since I have been married to this man for 9 years now, I know that what he's trying to tell me is that it's time to stop playing the will they/won't they be fat forever game and finally get in shape.

After a fabulously fun summer of constant BBQing and a few too many runs to the border for a Crunchwrap Supreme, Brad has found himself with 15 unwanted pounds hanging around his midsection, making any possibility of comfort while wearing clothes a mere dream. This wouldn't be all that big of a deal if it wasn't added to the 35 pounds he was already sporting. He tells me to rid the house of all junk food (which is hilarious because you'd think that the house was constantly stocked with Big Macs and Krispy Kremes by the way we look) and sets a few goals for himself. I agree to start watching our calories and preparing healthy meals and support him in his weight loss efforts, all the while silently chuckling to myself because while I've been exercising regularly for quite some time now, it's like a whole new concept to him.

I'm happy to report that on Day Four of the Johnson Slim Down Program, Brad has dropped five pounds. And I say that I'm happy like I really mean it which on some level I do but how frustrating is it that once he decides to get in shape, the weight falls off of him as easily as it came on?

That's not how I do things. I like to chip away at myself like some Greek sculpture with a whole lot of blood, sweat and tears and after 11 months of constant diligence, be rewarded with 1 3/4 pounds of weight loss. It's okay though. I'm not bitter.

I know that positive thinking has a lot to do with one's results, so I'm here to say I'm positive that by Christmas time, my husband will look awesome and I will have peaked out at 3 pounds of weight loss. At least I can find comfort in the fact that I feel better physically even if it doesn't show.

Except that that's crap. I will perservere though. Fatty McButterpants is losing it's grip on me once and for all.