I’m going to step out of my fictional writing for a moment and create some content based on my personal life today.
Last year, I went to the doctor concerning some health issues I had. I ached all over, my breathing laborious, and my feet and knees pained me something awful.
As usual, I arrived at the VA clinic several moments early. At least that part of my life hasn’t eroded and collapsed from total neglect, I thought as I walked across the parking lot.
I checked in and took a seat far away from everyone else. Moments later, the door swung open, and a cute nurse called out, “Mr. Freeman!” I pushed myself out of the chair with a grunt and followed her.
“Please stand on the scales for me,” she said. My heart raced, and I felt cold sweat dampen my neck.
“Do I have too?”
“Please, the doctor needs it.”
I stepped on the scale and watched as the needle moved past 300. It rested at 313 pounds. The nurse wrote it down, and I stepped off the scales. I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to slink away to my vehicle.
My appointment went well enough and after some encouragement and tests, I went back home. On the way back, I ran through McDonalds and bought a Big Mac, large fries, and a large Dr. Pepper.
Then, I stopped by Dollar General and bought six Monster energy drinks, two boxes of Fig Bars, and some Reese Cups. This was my life. I wrote posts for my blog and drowned my self-loathing in bad dietary habits.
“I’m a busy man! I don’t have time or the money to commit to a fad diet!” As wrong as my thinking was, I wasn’t completely wrong. Fad diets wouldn’t work. Better physical and mental health would require a lifestyle change for me.
In February of 2021, my mom and I made a change. We went from excessive carbohydrates per day to less than 20 total. We gave up bread, potatoes, and rice. Slash the starches and bring on the eggs!
The weight fell off. As I write this post, I am down from 313 pounds to 218. I’ve hit a plateau, but I feel great. I went from a size 44 waist to a size 36. Every 2x shirt I had in my closet got donated to Goodwill and veterans’ charities. I threw my old jeans away.
My aches and pains are minimal, my mind is clear, and I don’t struggle with depression as much as I once did. My doctor was blown away by not only my weight loss, but at my success of keeping it off.
It’s hard work sometimes, but my health is worth it.
I’m struggling to close this out, and I don’t want to come off as a crass, preachy know-it-all. Life’s short, and it never ceases to amaze me at the people who refuse to live. They exist fine, but they don’t seem excited to live life to the fullest. Or so it appears to me.
We all come to the end of our lives at some point. Some sooner, some later, but it all ends. Someone will write our obituary. It’s on us to make sure they have something to write about. I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t want them to only say “he spent a lot of time at work.”
Y’all have a great day.
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