Feb
20
Hamster wheel
Filed Under Uncategorized | 17 Comments
There are times when I don’t mind my soft, flabby belly. It happens whenever I reinvest myself in a health and fitness regimen, and I suddenly have this newfound patience with my unwanted midsection. At night I lie on my side and I run my hand over the pillowy flesh around my waistline and I regard it with something like fondness. I think of it as a transitory state. It feels so familiar, and yet I’m about to bid it goodbye. Am I almost sentimental over this belly fat? I think I am.
Soon enough, though, I become frustrated. It’s not leaving as quickly as I’d like, after all. My belly is a houseguest who has overstayed their welcome. Lying in bed, I pinch the rolls, crush them between my fingers. I imagine them dissolving under my unfriendly touch. My body feels like something I’m wearing, rather than something I am. The sensation of touching my skin creates jeering little surges of self-loathing. Lazy slob. Pig.
It’s ridiculous and unhelpful and I know it. Will you stop, I think. Meanwhile, my belly is exactly the same. Or maybe it’s ever so slightly smaller, or slightly bigger. So many miles of headspace over so few inches.
Feb
19
Cruel parental photojournalism
Filed Under Uncategorized | 15 Comments
When we were sledding in Sunriver for Dylan’s birthday I was at the base of the hill rapid-firing photos with my phone when this happened:
I promise you I was at his side nanoseconds later, although the photographic evidence totally makes it look like I just stood there like a heartless asshole. “Hey, I know your face is covered in bleeding abrasions and I’m not entirely 100% certain your neck didn’t just snap right in half, but say cheese!”
He was fine, thank god, but damn. Parenthood certainly has a way of unexpectedly elevating your heart rate, doesn’t it?
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