Fighting the Fight: It is in the Jeans

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When I was little I remember my Grandma was overweight.  Obese I guess you could say.  Didn’t mean anything to me, she was just Grandma to me.  I just figured it was normal, she always had more love to give, kept us in line and helped instill those values that all of us Grandkids (do you capitalize that?) grew up to admire in ourselves.  She was diabetic, so was my Grandpa too.

“The sugar.”  As I have heard it called.  Grandpa has “the sugar.”  I remember hearing someone say it when I was little, dunno who.  Grandma had “the sugar” too, so both were on insulin, would give themselves shots – still seemed normal to me.  Figured all Grandmas & Grandpas were like that.  I payed it no mind.

It never seemed to affect our family much.  Yeah – occasionally mom would rush down to Grandpas and Grandmas blood sugar was up/down to some crazy number and they would do the normal procedures to bring it down/up.  Some grapefruit juice.  Maybe some peanut butter.  Put your feet up.  Drink some water.  Take a shot.  But the mass majority of my short time with my Grandmother – was just normal.

I don’t really remember ever seeing my grandma eat crazy.  I’m sure she had her vice, like us all.  Just a bit more than the next person.  Like I said before, didn’t bother me at all, just Grandma.

My Grandpa always had a big belly, but didn’t seem all that out of shape.  He would work all day/night and never seemed to miss a beat.  Men just had bellies.  The unmistakable beer belly.   My Grandpa was old, didn’t ever see him drink a beer, but it seemed like his belly was a remnant of a past life of drinking and smoking and living life as younger version of himself.  Late nights-military crowd-hard working-blue collar belly, like a hollowed out tank no longer in use, but still there in all its glory.  Never remember him eating anything either that would make him overweight.  Peanut Butter.  Cokes.  Might have done it.

Once again, didn’t seem a big deal.  Weight never has really bothered me.  People that are overweight seem to be nice people… I’m nice. haha 

My Mom seeing her own mom go through all the struggles of an overweight person, I’m sure fought the fight with great vigor each day.  Same as I fight with it today.  My Mom has that dragon whooped now.  She has lost a remarkable amount of weight and is practically a new person these days.  Of course we all waver at times, but my mom has more determination than anyone I know and I commend her for that.  She opened my eyes to my own problems with weight… and food.

As a kid, it wasn’t ever like I was fat.  I was husky – ok!  That is different.  I think.  haha

It isn’t. But your body does crazy things growing up.  When I got into swimming in high school – 165lbs – muscle… tip top.  Didn’t matter what I ate.  I think that puts me where I am today.  My body saying… “Dude, we can eat whatever we want remember?”  “Bacon sandwiches”  “Chicken Fried Steaks”  “French Fries”  “Remember?”

Yeah.  I remember.  Metabolism of a freakin’ field mouse.  Long ago.

4 years and your body thinks its found a way of life.  Funny thing about that is… no one will pay you to swim 5 hours a day.  Your bank, grocery store, post office and doctor don’t just take care of itself.  Birthday parties, dance recitals, holidays, court dates, classes and dates do not just get gone to, while you swim.  You have to go out in the real world and make a living, take care of yourself and try to keep your metabolism from eating you into a coma.  No one prepares your ass for that.

175-180 – that was my fighting weight, if you will.  I had gotten down to 165 at one time at my lowest while swimming.  Once I bulked up to 175 it was more like it.  By senior year, one gets a complacency that you get when your 3 years deep in dominating and you know you could do better than anyone else with 1 hand tied behind your back – so you gain a lil’ weight – fat with confidence I suppose.  185 when I graduated.

At my heaviest I had ballooned to 240.  A weight created a unhappy me.  I had left myself go completely.  In 8-9 years I had gained 55 lbs.  Now I was in for the fight of my life.  The same fight my Grandma fought, my Mom fought and now I, a 28 year old male living in one of the fattest states in America… was fighting the same fight.  Bring it on.

It’s definitely in the jeans genes.

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