I am so damned tired of trying to lose weight. I can play this game, try to convince myself it's all about being fit and a better athlete, but after a year and half of that story, my mind ceases to be fooled. It's all about the pounds, baby. To make matters oh-so-much worse, it's not even that I'm not losing weight, it's that I'm gaining weight. I seriously need to go have my shoulder checked out, it's totally fucked up, but I don't want to talk to my doctor about why I'm no longer losing weight, or worse, hear her nurse tell me exactly what number I can attach to my body right now.

It makes perfect sense that I've gained weight. I stopped playing hockey in March, sat still and depressed for two months, and didn't cut back on my caloric intake. Of course I gained weight. All I need to do is take another look at my eating habits, give my body time to transition to a new sport, work a little harder to get back on my running schedule, and be patient. Logically, that makes sense. Emotionally, it feels like one big lie, and all I have to look forward to the rest of my life is my mind trying to convince my body it needs to go away.

While I was out running in the park today, I passed (repeatedly) by this little girl on her bicycle, and everytime we passed, I wondered how she was going to handle her body when she got to be a teenager and an adult. You know you're old when you suddenly get the urge to talk to other people's kids and warn them about life: "Don't do drugs! Stay in school! Keep riding your bike! Don't talk to strangers! Don't ever, ever, ever, EVER go on a diet!" Anyway, she was such a cutie, smiling at me everytime we passed, and it made me a little sad, because by the time I was her age, I'd already stopped making eye contact with people, much less smiling at them. I hope she gets to keep her joy.

God, I hate the fact that I'm looking toward my 36th birthday and I'm still struggling w/the negative body image routine. That is so screwed up.

On the other hand....I think I impressed the wife this evening by dropping and giving her thirty push-ups on my knuckles. I guess my bulk is good for something.