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Hefty Dad Saves Kids From Halloween!


Another Halloween is over and bags of candy collected from Trick-or-Treating sit on a high shelf in one of the kitchen cabinets. This is actually not a hidden, kid-safe place, as I have caught my 6-year-old climbing on top of the counter and reaching into the same cabinet to get a juice box, but it is nonetheless out of sight, and for the most part, out of mind.

And now

I have begun my foolproof plan once again to save my kids from ingesting too much sugar (who am I kidding? – corn syrup) by eating most of the candy myself. After dinner, they get to choose one or two pieces of candy out of their bags as dessert. They perceive that their candy cache is dwindling, and since they are they only ones they know of eating candy out of those bags, there is no question that it is they who have been burning through the Reese’s Cups and Tootsie Rolls. I don’t know how many years I’ll be able to keep up this deception before they bust me.

Or, rather, I just bust myself.


The tempations of Halloween candy. The CANDY, I said!

I never lost last year’s Halloween weight, and now, here I am packing in more wasted calories. Not that I’ve ever cared about that sort of thing. But now I’m getting older, and it’s packing it all in my gut. It used to be, when I would gain weight, my body would evenly distribute the poundage just about everywhere: a few in the gut, a couple on my ass, a noticeable pound in my face. Whatever. I didn’t care.

But when “growing out of clothes” no longer only applies to your young children but to Daddy’s jeans…I think I may have a problem. Seriously, if I had kept trying to wear my old pair of jeans, I would not be impressing anyone with my muffintop.

In only 5 months, I have gained nearly 20 pounds. I contend that three factors have contributed to this sudden weight gain:

  1. I stopped running regularly 4 months ago. OK, in reality, I pretty much stopped running completely. I was supposed to run my 2nd half-marathon two weeks ago. Skipped it. It would have killed me.
  2. I began a regular habit of sampling micobrews. And I say “sampling” because, at most, I’ll drink one bottle every other night, but usually consumed after the kids are in bed, which means bad things as far as metabolizing the stuff effectively.
  3. My diet has been total shit. I can’t even tell you what I eat or don’t eat. Even though I still avoid meat on most occassions, it’s not like I’m eating healthy fruits and veggies at every meal. I eat what the kids leave on their plates, or I throw a burrito in the microwave or some nachos. Quick and easy, with the goal of trying to not be hungry. And again, always eating something after 9pm.

This scale MUST be in kilograms. Otherwise, what's it good for?

The World Health Organization currently labels me “obese” with a body mass index of 32.1. My goal is to drop 38 pounds (my pre-college drinking weight) by January 1st. Even then, the WHO would still call me “overweight.”

Bullshit. The Woman Currently Know As My Wife agrees with me that the WHO statistics are skewed. But she still looks at my tummy, and with her eyes says to me Da-a-a-a-a-mn, boy…

Either way, I need to lose it. And to be honest, I don’t care how I look compared to how I feel every day. I feel like complete shit. Sluggish. Unmotivated. Tired, even after a quad pumpkin spice latte. So. Back to running then? I hope. And starting today…OK, tomorrow…I’m laying off the Halloween crap. Maybe I’ll stand outside a dentist’s office and hand it out to kids as they leave, just not my own kids, right?

Now, excuse me while I finish this Butterfinger.

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