Struggling with my weight has been a constant theme throughout my life, but once I crossed over the 30-year mark things inexplicably got even more difficult. It was as if the little neurons controlling my metabolism had a secret union meeting that I wasn’t aware of:
“We work, and work, and work, and what do we get for it? Nothing! All we hear from corporate are complaints about how we’re not efficient enough! What, they think it’s EASY regulating homeostasis? They think monitoring blood sugar is a walk in the park, do they?! FINE! Then we QUIT! Let’s see how Tubby likes things without ANYONE at the controls!”
And then they all high-fived and walked out.
Or, at least, that’s how I imagine it. Whatever went down within the molecular make-up of my body, it certainly wasn’t an improvement. Without my habits or lifestyle changing, I somehow transitioned from a status of “constantly struggling to not gain weight” to one of “handily losing the fight against fatness.”
I was discussing this phenomenon with my wife a while back, and I informed her that I was thinking I probably needed to try to get a handle on things, because I was feeling like my weight was starting to get problematic. You know, sharing my feelings from a place of vulnerability, and all.
“You’re questioning whether you should try to lose weight?” She responded with uncharacteristic candor. “Seth, your boobs are bigger than mine are. Yeah, you definitely need to lose weight.”
Ouch.
Seeing my shocked expression, she reverted back to her typical empathetic self and tried to backpedal. “…But if you think about it, that’s more of a slam against MY bust size than yours, right?”
I informed her that referring to my pecs as my “bust” was not the greatest morale-booster and headed off to the bathroom to prove that her claims were exaggerated. I did a few hops in front of the mirror to check the jiggle factor and, lo and behold, it turned out my wife was right. There was definitely more “Baywatch bounce” going on up top than seemed appropriate.
I’m not generally a vain person, and I wouldn’t say that I have any great aspirations of physical prowess, but even so, discovering that “bosomy” could now be used in a description of me was a bit of a reality check. This wasn’t a “shrug it off” sort of realization.
I share all of this because I’ve recently started taking and distributing a nutritional supplement called Plexus. And, though I mainly started taking Plexus supplements to deal with over-arching health concerns like chronic fatigue, insomnia, and regular energy dips and spikes, there was definitely a superficial motivation (or two) in play as well.
So far, adding Plexus to my life has been a win on every front! As I’ve been improving my gut health, I’ve absolutely been experiencing better overall health (better sleep, more energy, significantly suppressed appetite), which has been super encouraging, because I haven’t really made any other serious life-style changes. And, with the passive weight-loss I’m experiencing taking my Plexus products, I think it’s actually going to help me get this Dad-bod back in shape!
…Or at least reduce the cup-size of my man-boobs.
Hoes, Toes, & Garden Woes
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