I'm my own worst critic. It's true. After a lifetime of fucked up choices and real bad habits you come to a turning point where you look at yourself in the mirror and realize that "it's now or never". March 2010 was the month where it hit me. I didn't like the fact that I was fast approaching a 40" waistline, my face ballooned, and every time I walked around S.F., I felt as if I was carrying an elephant on my back. You would think that 3 years ago with my brush of death and warnings from doctors that I'd get the message but unfortunately I'm stubborn as a bull and tough lessons don't come easy to me.
Yep, I decided to go on a diet. Give up the wonderfully unhealthy shit I was eating and get my fat ass moving again. It hasn't been easy. Giving up pasta, to go, and fried foods was tough. I was getting migranes like crazy and was constantly hungry. Then I made another step at joining 24-hour fitness. I've never been to a gym in my life and here I am, 38 years old doing this.
"What the fuck did I get myself into?" is all I kept asking myself. So I pump up at night. Less people, no distractions. The weird thing about this is for the first couple of weeks I was sore and my body felt "hot". I knew what was....just my muscles essentially being "awakened" as this old workhorse now beginning to take force. I actually like what I'm doing.
And already some people have taken notice. For the most part, I've gotten positive response and a even a few fellow muscle men have reached out to me offering advice. Even some fellow buds have reached out to me embracing me so to all of you, I say a big "THANK YOU".
But on the flip side, I've had a curious bunch that watch but say nothing, then a few haters have come out and attacked as what they see as me "suckling up to the musclemen and roid heads" which is NOT the case.
Let me make it quite clear : This is not about vanity or outer appearances. I could give a shit. This is about my health. Too many people in my family and friends have dropped like flies from various illnesses due to poor health and diet. My own mother died of complications of diabetes in 2008.
At 5'6" and 240 pounds I could no longer ignore the fact I was tired all time, and I walking around the city I felt as if I was to give out. Back east, the doc told me flat out "you need to lose weight or be on blood pressure and diabetes medication for the rest of your life". Fuck that. That is no way to live. I made a vow to myself a long time ago that I'm not going to be on pills for the rest of my life no matter what happens. I'd rather be dead.
I realize I might just piss off a few in the gay bear community for being honest because so many of you have been welcoming and good to me, but speaking for myself, my health is important to me. If there's a chance of me making it to 50, I have to do this.
And for the haters here's a line that I'm borrowing from a bud he posted on his wall on Facebook as a direct message to somebody that was trying to piss him off: