Back in My Day

This has been an oddly sociable week for me, as opposed to my typical anonymity and general distaste for small talk, I’ve been trying to go to more gatherings, but I must say, it’s nice to finally be back in front of my computer listening to the new releases on Spotify.

I try not to get personal on this blog and try to stick to my usual scene of drunken hi-jinks, sports talk, and the occasional relationship story, but this has been a pretty unusual week for me, unusual in a good way. I rediscovered my love of meditation and this has lead me to rediscover things I haven’t done since I was a teenager.

I’m a very intense and angry man. Children and people not familiar with my typical aggressive persona have a tendency to describe as “scary,” I’m not fond of this descriptor. I swear I’m a nice guy, I’m just big and loud, but I have a tender soul. A mutual friend of my wife and I has a three year old daughter (she’s a goddamn angel, just the sweetest little girl) and despite having been in her life since she was a baby, she continuously shows apprehension before approaching me, and this happens with every single child I encounter. As a result, I’ve been attempting to go back to my younger days when I was a carefree youngster. Hence my return to meditation. I went through a weird spiritual phase in high school, and made meditation a part of my daily ritual, but as I got older I somehow got the impression this was stupid so I gave it up all together.

I started meditating again this week and it brought me back to the tranquility of youth. It was as if I had jumped into a sci-fi wormhole and became a teenager again. As a result, I don’t hate the world as much. So I guess my point is, find something that makes you feel young again. Regardless of what it is, the simplicity of youth will heal your mind and make you forget about the pressures of adulthood. What works for you? What methods do you all incorporate in your day to day activities that help you achieve peace?

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Gains

Intro: Unfortunately, this story is very real. This is an actual conversation I had with my brother, remembered to the best of my recollection, and I still feel bad about it to this day. I’m a part time boxing instructor so fitness has always been important to me, especially when it concerns my family.

“You haven’t lost a single pound?” The question stupidly rolls through my lips despite my full knowledge of the answer that is soon to follow.

“Well no, but they say muscle weighs more than fat,” The moronic look on my brother’s face implies he truly believes the spectacular level of idiocy he’s preaching.

“True, but how much do you weigh currently?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Bullshit, you know, but you don’t want t tell me because you think I’m going to judge you.”

“Will you?” He asks without looking at me.

“Will I what?”

“Judge me. Will you judge me when I tell how much I weigh?”

“Probably yes, but if it helps you’ll have no idea, it’ll be silent judgment. I won’t tell anyone I’m just curious.”

“480.”

“480?”

“Yeah, 480 that’s my weight.” I try to stifle my obvious surprise at such a shockingly large number.

“There’s worse,” I say trying to hide my high level disgust that my own brother could allow himself to be so fucking vile. “Shit man, that’s not even a TV special there’s plenty of people bigger than you,” while this statement is true I don’t believe it in the slightest.  

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“How often are you going to the gym?” I ask.

“About five times.”

“Five times a week?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck man that’s more than me, what are you eating? You should be dropping weight like crazy if you’re working out that much.”

“I think it’s my thyroid,” My brother says obviously trying to change the subject.

“Shut the fuck up, it’s not your thyroid. What are you eating,” my voice gets increasingly more aggressive.

“Weight gain is a side effect of this new medication I’m on.”

“Is your new medication made out of ice cream?” I’m intentionally being mean at this point.

“I’m really trying my best.”

“What are you eating? What did you have for breakfast today?” I ask knowing I’m not going to like the answer.

“I had a whole wheat bagel,” he says this as if he’s proud of himself.

“Awesome, that’s a solid breakfast. What else did you have?”

“What do you mean?”

“What else did you have for breakfast? What did you put on that bagel?”

“I put peanut butter on the bagel.”

“Okay.”

“And a little bit of honey.”

“Okay, what else?”

“I made three eggs and some bacon.”

“Okay, egg whites?”

“No whole eggs.”

“Okay, what else?”

“I had a banana.”

“Well that’s good.”

“Yeah!” He sounds so proud it’s stupid. “But I also had a bowl of cereal and two donuts.”

“Okay,” I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I’m going to have to handle this situation tactfully.

“You indicated in your food log that you had a whole wheat bagel for breakfast?”

“Yeah, I did have a bagel.”

“But what about the other stuff?”

“What other stuff?”

“The grocery list you just mentioned.”

“Oh that stuff?”

“Yeah, that stuff.”

“Well,” I can tell my brother is trying concoct some sort of fat person excuse, “I guess I didn’t think about it.”

“You didn’t think about it? Not at any point while you were consuming nearly a day’s worth of calories?”

“It’s not that much.”

“It’s quite a bit.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Well, let’s find out,” I slide my chair back and go into the living room.

“Where are you going?” my brother asks.

“I’m getting a notepad and a calculator.” I return to my seat with both items and I begin making notes on a blank page.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m rewriting your food log for yesterday. So you started with a bagel, how many calories were in the bagel?”

“About 300 I think?”

“Fair enough, and you put honey and peanut butter on the bagel correct?”

“Yes.”

“So let’s say another 200 calories, give or take.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“Do you want to fact check my math?”

“No,” my brother’s eyes drop to the floor.

“After that you had three eggs and bacon, so let’s say another 350, sound fair?”

“I have no idea.”

“We’ll say 350, and you capped that off with a bowl of cereal and two donuts, which to be perfectly honest, I have no idea how many calories to say, let’s put down another 500.”

“We really don’t have to do this.”

“You’re goddamn right we do,” I take a moment to add all the numbers together. ‘We’re looking at about 1350 calories for breakfast.” My brother says nothing and I’m starting to feel like an asshole.

“I suppose it could be worse, but you need to get ahold of this shit man. You’re 32 and you’re going to fucking die soon.” My brother starts to cry and I officially feel like an asshole. I never know how to react when people are upset, so I leave and go for a walk. I never said I was a good person.

Quick Update

Just a quick update. I’m going to be closing the sports site and transferring all sports related posts to the Reader. I’m trying fully integrate everything so all posts can be accessible from one place, so over the next few days I will be re-posting the newer sports articles on the Reader. Thank you everyone for checking us out I greatly appreciate all the support. Great things are coming. Have an amazing day!